What a difference a day makes. It was (as Lance Armstrong would say) there was no chain on the bike and the whole rig glided along as though on air. Damn, it was chilly this morning without my gilet (am I going on about that a bit?) but by 10 I warmed up until the day got really hot. Lovely! It’s like cycling through warm cotton wool.
This morning was a bit surreal. I’ve resigned myself to being woken by the Dawn chorus, although some of them have sounded like a bunch of drunks on their way home from an all-nighter. But this one was spectacular. I went out for a pee one night and was blown by the night sky, and the birds singing was a bit like that. It had depth and layers and repetition until something new started. So, I just go to bed earlier now knowing they are going to sake me at six.
Today I was heading for Coulon and when I got to coulogn I just thought I’d read it wring. I was a bit fed up because I’d only done 45 miles and it seemed I was supposed to stay in this dump. Quicy changes when I realised my mistake and pedalled on withe hot sun at my side and the, by now, strong northeasterly at my back for another 20 miles.
Colon is full of Brits. I’m in a bar and there are three families around me. I made the mistake of asking for a grand bierre that they kindly served in a tankard. So much formmy anonymity!
I’ve run out of gas! Who told me you can buy screw top canisters everywhere? My ‘girlfriend’ in Mllets who sold menthe Pocket Rocket, that’s who.
AnywAy gentle readers, Santander is almost 400 miles nearer than when I set out so I must be doing something right
To the south!
How about this for roadkill?