Argie bargie with cyclists on my canal getaway

TOWPATH Tours is calling me to the Leeds and Liverpool canal.

I set off from a village across the valley where a former Downing Street spin doctor, who shall be nameless, has his country retreat.

Lucky him, but I don’t suppose he gets on to the towpath very often.

What am I saying, it’s only my second time this year.

Approaching a swing bridge over the canal, a roadside display says “Bradley in Bloom: Pardon the Weeds, We’re Feeding the Bees.” Not many around, but it is only 9C.

According to new signage saying the village was a centre for weaving mills, it’s two-and-a-quarter miles to Skipton.

Pedestrians have priority on the towpath, according to the Canals and River Trust. Well, you could have fooled me. The cyclists are almost as badly behaved as they are in London.

They regard this as a rural highway free of cars. Some have bells, and others shout “Excuse me!” if they feel like it.

One silent racer, who almost ran me over from behind, was treated to a brief lesson in Anglo-Saxon vernacular, in what my father called his “parade ground voice”.

But they can’t destroy the pleasure. Trees are coming into full leaf. Wildlife is abundant: mallards, a couple of swans, geese on the field over the canal, and a heron that waits until I’m only yards away before flapping lazily across the water.

With sunlight dappling Skipton Moor and the peaks of Sharp Haw and Pin Haw to the west, it was enough.

The names of boats on the cut always intrigue me.

I like Georgian Star “canal towage and astronomical observations”.

In under an hour, I’m in Early Doors micropub for a pint of BB18 bitter, brewed in Earby. Worth the walk.