It Rained

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A refreshing break from the bad weather

It rained – suddenly roads were turned into streams and my inadequate clothing leaked. I was soaked to the skin in seconds. We were travelling downhill into Askrigg when water gushed up through the drain tops. The gentle rolling countryside of the Dales was transformed in moments into a threatening place where rains lashed, water courses overflowed and lightening crashed around us. All we had were two frames of metal and wheels of steel against all those forces of the natural world.
As we sheltered in the village pub we dripped and waited for the storm to pass. The damp stayed with us for the rest of the day. The short ride to Hawes felt like a long trek into town.
But when a taxi finally delivered us to our cottage, warm dry clothes never felt so comforting. The stream outside the window had turned into a torrent to live up to it’s purpose as the source of the mighty River Wharfe – feeding the waters collected from the hills above Oughtershaw into the channel that finds it’s way to the sea through the beauty of Wharfedale to Ilkley and Otley and on to join the Ouse at Drax south of York.
That was just one day of our holiday. Some days we walked, others cycled, but the rain was constant.

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