It started great for me, a week off in January with an overnighter on the bike with a friend down south, but then the following week everything turned. I was sat at my desk at work in tears, feeling alone, unloved and useless with thoughts of suicide. I had felt like this for a long long time but being a man in my 40s it’s not something I talk about, just suck it up princess. But something had to be done because I felt like I was letting my family, friends and work colleagues down by being in this state, so I made the hardest decision of my life and admitted to myself that I have a problem and I need help.
At the doctors the next morning everything came out which made me feel a little better. Antidepressants were prescribed but I hated the idea of taking them, I kept telling myself that I don’t need them, I’m better than this. Not only have had feeling like this for a long time I’ve also been lying to myself. I’m taking a few days off work to pull myself together but the day before and the hours leading up to going back I am absolutely terrified of going back and being around people, even though I work on my own there is always someone around. But I got an unexpected text message from one of the bosses of where I work. Even though I don’t actually work for him, he took the time to make sure I was ok and have a laugh with me. That conversation with him and other people at work completely turned me around. I was happy! The happiest I’ve been for years. I’m cured!
But then a couple months later Covid and lockdown happened.
I’ve been badgering Chris, the landlord of The Hollybush for ages to get out and do some bikepacking but he’s a busy man with running one of the best pubs in Derbyshire but this time he’s get himself a bivvy bag and I’ve given him a spare sleeping bag and roll map so there’s no excuses now.
The plan is ride out to Ashbourne, up The Tissington trail slob down somewhere and then tomorrow, down The High Peak trail back to The Bush for tea and biscuits. Simple, nothing too strenuous for his first time.
We started off from Alvaston park in good weather but a little breezy and overcast. Heading along the old Derby canal path, Sustrans route 6, the heavens decided to open but not with heavy rain but that fine mizzle that soaks you through. A fine August summer day. But it’s not cold so we don’t bother stopping to put waterproofs on.
Left turn at Swarkestone lock and onto the Trent and Mersey canal for a couple of miles until the disused railway line to Melbourne, straight through to Ticknall and the Staff of Life pub. Can’t go on bike ride with a landlord and not have a pint or 2.
Needless to say by the time we reach Ashbourne we’re a bit wobbly after 6 pints so we decide to have 3 more…
Up onto the Tissington trail and it’s nice and flat, but it isn’t! Anyone who’s rode along here knows it’s on a slight incline and after the beer it’s a struggle, plus there’s a head wind (every cyclist loves a head wind). Every pedal turn feels like we’re going up a 12% climb! We’re bitching and moaning at each other all the way along. Talk turns to where we’re actually going to stop the night and we decide on Biggin because there’s a pub there. We’re about 6 miles away and we’re feeling every inch, every couple of miles we check the distance to go and that couple of miles is actually a couple of hundred metres! It feels like we’re riding in a bog and going nowhere fast.
Hours later and we’re turning off the trail and into Biggin, a fantastic mile down hill, freewheeling all the way to the pub and making the decision that we’re not riding back up the hill, we’re staying around here no matter what! Over another pint and a hoofing big big cheese burger we’re deciding where to sleep, the bus shelter up the road was mentioned but the pub has a campsite. We ask the the barman the question of can we chuck our sleeping bags out on the campsite, to which he replies with for a tenner, you can have the caravan. Deal!
By 9pm and few more pints we’re both nodding off in bar so decide to turn in. Que comedy moments of trying to assemble caravan beds while drunk. Lots of swearing and falling over.
The next morning, slightly hungover and Chris is moaning he’s cold. So I’m being mother and doing breakfast. I’ve brought a couple of boil in the bag breakfasts, instant coffee and my stove because we had the intention of sleeping outdoors but as we’re in a caravan the bags go in the kettle and are done in a couple of minutes. More importantly is sorting out the toilet situation because neither of us fancy using the one in the caravan. Can we hold out until we’re out on the trail and at the Parsley Hay and the public loo? Probably not, so this might be issue. But as I’m wandering around outside the caravan, stretching my legs I noticed that the pub toilets are open. Saved! We can ride comfortably.
Back on the Tissington trail and for some reason it feels a lot easier today. No hills at all, it’s like someone has been out with an iron. At Parsley Hay it’s time for second breakfast of pork pie and strong coffee.
Refuel done and we’re on the High Peak Trail, which is the opposite of The Tissington Trail because it’s slightly downhill from this end and we’re flying along, dodging lone riders and families, it’s really busy for saying it’s a Thursday morning.
The miles are flying under the wheels today and we’re soon at Middleton Top and another coffee or 2, we’re actually killing time waiting for the pubs to open.
Down onto the road and into Wirksworth to The Rising Sun just before 12, hanging about outside the landlord comes out saying that he can’t serve us because his barmaid isn’t here yet which got a funny look from Chris, I could tell what he was thinking, why don’t you serve us then?
Beers are in and another bloke turns up on a bike doing a trip but he’s going a tad further than us. He’s set off from Lincoln that morning! I’ve done that ride and it’s at least 50 miles! And he was going to Whitehaven in Cumbria, he’d be there in a couple of days at that rate!
When bikepackers meet up, there’s always the chat about kit and route, with nods off appreciation and admiration. It’s the same I guess with everyone who has a shared hobby, you’re instant friends with complete strangers.
Back on the trail to the end and into Cromford and another couple of pints then onto the Cromford canal just has it starts to absolutely hammer down! Total torrential downpour, a typical August day. Oh well, coat on and carry on to Ambergate and shelter at the Hurt Arms. This could be 4 pints by now, memory is a bit fuzzy, the rain is having an effect.
For the first time since yesterday morning we’re on a busy road, in the rain and heavy traffic. It’s not fun but it’s got to be done for a few miles into Belper and a couple of more pints at The Belper Tap. I can see how this day is going and it’s downhill. I have a serious thought about taking it easier because I’ve got to get up again tomorrow and do it all again with another friend but there’s only one more pub to go.
Arrival at the Hollybush at about 3pm is just like a normal day for me but I think Chris is expecting a heroes welcome, but there’s loads of people there who Chris knows plus the staff and we have a great laugh and the beer is flowing easily. So easily that it’s soon dark out and closing time and all I can remember in between is Chris falling on his arse. Time for me to go home. I can’t actually remember riding the 10 miles home just that it was midnight when I got there and I’m falling asleep in my chair and waking up in the morning with a poorly head but ready to get back out again but that’s another story…
Ugh, it’s about 4.30am and I’m awake and sweaty, I’ve made the schoolboy error of falling asleep in my bivvy bag before getting undressed. But at least being awake at this time means I’ll get to see sun rise. So I’ll just lie here and wait. 10 minutes later it’s nearly 7am! I’d better get my arse into gear and get moving. There’s not much to pack up so by 7.15 I’m on the move.
It’s starting to rain as I’m packing up, so nothing is put away properly, just stuffed in the ruck sack. Walking along the river into Matlock thoughts soon turn to breakfast and the toilet, there’s nothing open at this time of day during the week so it’s McDonalds. Desperate times. I need a poo and I’m hungry.
Egg McMuffin and a coffee later I’m heading out of Matlock through the park and up High Tor for the first proper climb of either day, getting a proper sweat on as I go up passing leisurely dog walkers and runners. Freaks. Dropping down into Matlock Bath feeling soggy with rain and sweat, spirits are lifted with a brew and knowing that it’s flat from here until at least Belper.
Stomping along the Cromford canal I feel like I’m going nowhere fast because I’ve rode this way so many times I’ve got bike timings in my head, it’s taking hours to get the other end at Ambergate, but as I’m getting there 2 women ask how far it is to Ambergate, so map out to have a look, “errm, that bridge there”. Just as I’m talking to them about the walk and stuff I realise that I’ve hit 10 miles, just another 20 to go! But it’s 12 o’clock and it’s Sunday, so that means one thing and it’s time for a pint (it is still Sunday isn’t it?) so off the canal onto the A6 and drink at the Hurt Arms in Ambergate. While having a pint I’m thinking of mileage to go and thinking a couple more pints and I could be home in time for tea. *Big smile*
Those hills that I was ready for in Belper have appeared a bit sooner than I expected and jumped right out in front of me in Ambergate, just want I needed after a couple of pints. Up Holy Lane and past Shining Cliff Woods, this is bad enough on a bike never mind on foot! A bloke passes me on a bike, instead of the usual cheery hello, we just grunt at each other with a knowing nod. At the top there’s a lovely view of the valley but I’m too knackered to get my phone out to take a snap. Plodding along a single lane road I have to jump in the hedgerow (bastard brambles!!) a few times to let the odd car and van past. Walking on tarmac for a couple of miles seems strange after being off road for so long it feels like I’ve got flippers on and my feet are flapping. Looking for a footpath of to the right that will take me back down to the river into Belper. A steep descent downhill and wander up and down the line of a hedgerow and I’m on Wyver Lane and very familiar ground because around here is one of my favourite mountain biking play areas.
Happily bimbling along I bump into a couple of young women who are doing the same walk but the opposite way, I give them some tips on the route and where to stop, I told them of the campsite where I stayed last night which would save them £10 each.
FUCK! PAIN! Lots of pain! Blister popped on the little toe on my right foot, I can feel the pus oozing between my toes as I double over in agony rolling on the floor. Shoe and sock off and its not a pretty sight down there but all I can do is whack a plaster on it and carry on, but with a limp and a lot of pain. So much pain that I feel like I carry on. That’s not going happen now is it? So I change my gait to something a little more bearable and push on.
Hobbling into Belper town centre and I need to stop for a pint and mainly because of my feet. Sat with my drink I’m thinking about what lies ahead, I’m about 15 miles from home, I’ve walked this bit a few times as my training route. I know it well and I can have it done in a few hours but my feet are a now a concern but I’m going to crack on.
Leaving Belper on the opposite side of the river and climbing uphill again, leaving the houses behind for a good 2 mile tab to The HollyBush. I’m going well but every now and then I miss step and catch the blisters and the corn that I’ve already got. By the time I’m on Dark Lane and stumbling in the Hollybush I can I feel my calves tightening up. I can hardly move my legs so with a heavy heart and another pint I’ve decided to get the bus home. With the pain I’m in and covering 37 miles in 2 days, I think I’ve done enough.
I’m in Hope for the first time in a couple of years and I’m going on my first adventure since January, the pandemic and lockdown easing. I’ve left the bike at home and I’m going for a walk. The plan is to walk the length of Derbyshire, following the River Derwent on the Derwent Valley Heritage Way. That’s the plan anyway but right now I’m on a train to Bamford and hungover to buggery.
It’s a long trudge up to Ladybower from Bamford station, I’ve forgotten how far it was. I was probably better off walking over from Hope but at least it’s downhill from there.
A cup of tea and a coke (I need the sugar rush) at The Yorkshire Bridge then it’s across the dam at Ladybower to the start of the trail and the source of the Derwent, but first, it’s the obligatory photo of the plughole.
Here we go proper, the start of The Derwent, downhill all the way home! And the first wrong turning of the day! Bimbling along the Thornhill track, to pretty much back where I started in Bamford I can see big bright rucksacks in front of me, got to be DoE. Only DoE go out like that with the bright waterproof covers on their sacks with sleeping bags hanging from the bottom and wearing Addidas tracksuits. I catch up with them and they’ve got the map out so I ask them where they’re heading. Just to the main road and the garden centre, they reply. That one across that field then? Happy faces all around.
Crossing the said main road, walking right next to the river, amongst oak and other trees the I wish I could identify, the sun comes out! This is a pain because the forecast said rain so I left my shorts, sunglasses and suncream at home. Bloody weather! It’s that sunny and warm, I’ve got my trousers rolled up and people are paddling in the river. And I’ve got sweaty boobs.
Heading towards Hathersage all I keep thinking is “don’t go to Alpkit! Don’t go to Alpkit!) As I get to the road again I check the map and I’ve gone past Hathersage! Bargain! I don’t think my credit card could afford actually going into the Alpkit shop even though I don’t need anything. But to my right is a pub, time for the first pint of the adventure. Crossing the river and walking through some woods gave some shelter from the sun for a couple miles. Soon I’m skirting around Grindleford and Froggatt hitting the 10 miles mark.
Around the edge of Calver and into Baslow for lunch, then across Chatsworth Park.
While going through Chatsworth, I get the first rain of the day and the wind gets up, so waterproof on and trousers down. But it doesn’t last long so I change back but I’m starting to notice I’m going slower and short of breath, I’m getting hills, first proper hills of the day. The kind that makes you get your head down and take longer strides. I’m away from the river for the first time as I go over these hills but I know when I get over them it’s down into Rowsley and walking parallel to the A6 that is flat around these parts. Pint in Rowsley and plan where I’m sleeping tonight. Looking at the GPS and thinking Darley Bridge which is about 3 miles away and there’s a campsite at the pub even though I’ve only got my bivvy bag with me.
Walking through the trees with the river to my right and the old peak rail to my left it’s starting to get dark and I’m tripping over rocks and roots, so much so that I decide to get off and get on the disused railway line that’s now a cycle path. (This wasn’t here the last time I was this way). As I hit the village of Darley Dale (the home of the famous DFS sale) and I’m on tarmac I’m stomping along but I’m starting to feel my legs but I can see the pub and where I’m sleeping! 20 miles done and 2 or 3 pints later and I’m nodding off in the pub so it’s time to get my head down. Night night!
I’ve not done my blog for a quite a while, don’t know why, maybe after last years big ride I got a serious case of post adventure blues and just didn’t do anything for months, maybe just got bored of it but I’m going to try and keep it going now.
Here’s what’s been happening,
Last year I did my biggest big ride to date, started in Brighton and rode around the south east coast to Boston then inland to Derby, and it was the best ride yet! No hills and no rain! I did 630 miles in twelve days.
I rode the Peddars Way in Norfolk which is an old Roman road from the coast at Hunstanton to Thetford, the weather was a bit crap on this one but it was great fun living the history of the road.
But the main thing I’ve done is get another new bike!
I’ve become stagnant on my bike in recent months and not done anything apart from the commute and ride to the pub. Time to do something even if it’s just a 30 mile cobweb blower as I’ve signed myself up to ride the coast of Wales in August.
It’s 6am on a Sunday morning and my alarm is shouting at me. As I roll over thinking 5 more minutes another voice shouts at me telling me to get up because 5 minutes will turn into 5 hours and you won’t go anywhere.
8am and I’m still sat in the kitchen, still not dressed and still not motivated to do anything apart from drink more coffee.
Forcing myself into gear, I’m up and out within about half an hour but with no idea when to go. Riding along the old Derby Canal cycle track, my head is down and I’m feeling slow and lethargic, I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be one of those days. Swarkestone lock, just 3 miles in and I’m thinking of turning around and going back home. No, carry on to Melbourne and see what happens there.
Onto the Trent and Mersey canal and the old railway line, I love this stretch of tracks with this bike, so fluid and fast. First smile of the day. So feeling a little better with myself I’m straight though Melbourne and Ticknall and Repton and Willington and into Etwall. But…it’s starting to go very dark over Bills mothers with storm clouds looking like it’s going to hammer down with rain very soon. Stood on the track that could take me straight back into Derby for about 10 minutes trying to decide what to do. Go home and beat the rain or carry on to Ashbourne.
Sustrans route 62 out from Derby to Ashbourne is great. Quite country lanes with views over open fields, the odd small village every few miles and hardly any traffic, I’m starting to enjoy myself. But on arrival into Ashbourne there’s a few spots of rain and my knees are starting hurt, time for second breakfast.
Sat at the café at the start of the Tissington trail with a bacon butty and a mug of tea (pubs not open yet) properly debating whether to go home or carry on and risk the weather and my knees because after here there isn’t a easy cut off point without turning around and going the same way as I’ve already come. As I’m pondering this I get talking to 3 blokes on bikes with panniers and all the kit and it turns out they’re training to do John O’Groats to Lands End (downhill). This gets me thinking of Wales and why I’m out doing this ride today and they inspire me to carry on to at least Parsley Hay anyway.
The Tissington trail from Ashbourne to Parsley Hay is a 13 mile stretch of old railway line that joins onto the High Peak trail and the Pennine Bridleway at the top and a bit further north on the road take you into Buxton.
It seems flat all the way to Parsley Hay but it’s on slight almost un-noticeable incline, so by the time I get to the cycle hire and café at Parsley Hay my right knee and calf muscle is agony and it’s hacking it down with rain. Decision time again. Onward to Buxton or down the High Peak trail to Cromford. 15 miles with no shelter to Cromford or just 10 miles to Buxton with no shelter but a very good pub?
On the main road into Buxton, rain hammering down, wind blowing me around, cars and trucks flying past me, legs hurting I’m starting to think this was a bad idea. I want to be at home in front of the fire with a beer, but I’ve got no choice now, there’s no easy way out, so to Buxton.
As I pull up at Buxton Tap House it’s still raining but this pub is worth being wet for and I’ve done 55 miles without a pint so I’m ready for it!
Talking to the bar staff about past and future adventures this pint is going down too easy, so lets have another! Sat outside with the second pint, watching the world go by, saying hello to people going in and out the pub, the sun trying to peek through the clouds and I’m finally happy. This is why I ride, to see this country of ours. My legs are still hurting a bit though but I’ve got to push on before I set.
Onto the A6 for a quick couple of miles, then onto the glorious Monsal trail, another old railway line but this one is slightly downhill and it’s fantastic when the weather is rubbish and there’s no one about. I’m soon zipping along at speed through the tunnels and dodging the odd dog walker. And I’m grinning! Even though it’s started raining again.
All too soon I’m off the trail and in Bakewell and back on the A6 fighting traffic again. Time to shelter from the rain and have another pint? No! Carry on you’re already wet, what’s the point of getting dry to get wet again?
Staying on the A6 I get my head down and go for it, passing Haddon Hall, Matlock Bath, Cromford and Belper. It’s at this point I start to get stomach cramps (to go with the sore legs) and I realise I’ve not been for a wee since before Buxton. Luckily I’m just around the corner from the Holly Bush so dive in there and use the plumbing facilities and have a pint while we’re there.
Back on the road and to my local for one last drink as I’m really starting to hurt. I’ve really done too much today. Stood at the bar, with knees creaking every time I move I glance at the distance on my GPS…94 miles! Bugger me! I’ve never been this far in a day before!
I’ve got just under 5 miles to get home, it’s going to be the scenic route, I will hit the 100 mile mark! As I ride down the river on the last couple of miles, shouting and whooping to myself for being an awesome rider, I realise I can’t see in front of me ( it’s nearly 9pm). Bugger. Front lights gone so the normal way home. I can’t see my GPS either so I’ve got no idea of the mileage. It’s got to be close to it or have past it? As I hobble though the door at home, I can hardly bend my knees at this point, I’m frantically rolling my sleeve up and pressing stop on my GPS. Waiting with bated breath while it does its gubbings….99.1 MILES! BASTARD! Not happy, grumpy at being so close but so far away from the magic 100 miles. Still not bad for saying this morning I had no enthusiasm to ride my bike and wanted to turn around after 3 miles. But so close to 100 miles! I will come back and try and get it but not for a while as my legs are agony and spending that long in Lycra shorts has made my goolies shrivel up.
Where was we? Ah…I remember, we’d just done C2C and a bit more. That was 2 years ago! I here you say, so here’s a brief catch up before starting afresh.
The main important thing that’s happened is…new bike!
She’s a Charge Plug 3, her name is Butt and she’s lovely. My first proper tourer adventure bike. She was a lot to get used to at first as I’ve never had skinny wheels and drop handle bars, I even had to Google Presta valves and the flappy gear shift brakes are just strange. But I’ve still got the old girl who I still get dirty with, so all is good there.
Where have I been in the past couple of years?
Last year I did the Pennine Way again. It rained. A lot. 9 days riding and it rained for the first 6. I was a mess, feet were battered, I think I got trench foot, visibility was almost zero at times, but I made it 😃
I got a hammock for my 40th birthday in January and used it wild camping in January, bloody freezing! The following photos are from then and other times since.
Also, I’ve done The Peddar’s Way in Norfolk. It’s an old Roman road that runs along the coast and inland to Thetford. I did it with my friend Jason who lives down that way. We started in King’s Lynn (nothing but chavs and mobility scooters) out through Sandringham to the coast at Hunstanton before turning onto the actual route. It was great weather and the going was good with country lanes and fun off road bits. We ended up in Great Massingham and spent the night in a church yard facing the village pub. In the morning we got woke up by the church warden with coffee and cake!
After riding a few miles on the Sunday morning, the weather turned. It was like being back in the Lakes a couple of years ago. Very strong winds and heavy rain all the way to Thetford, but we made it be it slightly damp.
I think that’s the important bits covered, but watch this space, something is coming…
Spent the night in my local pub in the peak district and I woken up with a hangover and cuts to my legs after falling out of the pub looking for shooting stars. Twat.
Home today, I don’t want to go. It’s the end of bloody hard and demanding but fantastic ride and I feel kinda sad that it’s going to be over in a few hours. But at least I know where I’m going today, done this route loads of times, nothing can go wrong….
I was going back to Sheffield and ride the bit I missed out from yesterday, but with tired legs and a hangover I’ve just not got it in me So I’m going to carry on from here, come on girl, time to go home!
Down the road into Castleton, off road over to the High Peak Trail down hill all the way to Cromford then along the A6 to home and meet up with Christine from The Legion for a chat and a brew somewhere along the way. Easy.
Only a few metres up Cave Dale and we come to a stop! I’ve got no power in my legs! Shit. Now what? I’m not binning the ride and getting the train home from here. I’m too close to quit.
Plan B. Tideswell. Monsal Trail. Bakewell. A6 and only 1 major hill.
Hitting the hill going up into Tideswell I grind to a stop again. Much shouting and swearing and pushing later and we’re through Tideswell batting down hill into Millers Dale and on to the Monsal Trail, another old railway line. That big down hill and the super flat bit did wonders for my legs because they’re feeling a lot looser after that and according to Strava I hit 42mph somewhere along the last few miles. Bugger me…I must’ve had my eyes shut when I did that.
Time for a pint or 2 in Bakewell and give Christine s call to say I’ll be in Cromford in about half hour. I should’ve checked Google maps before I said that, because its a tad further than I thought. But I’m a speed demon! I’m at the top of my game! I’ll do it or I guess she’ll wait.
The A6 from Bakewell is a fantastic road ( I can’t believe I just said that) It’s a long smooth slope and we’re soon flying along into Matlock, we have to slow it down a bit here because the traffic is busy and the road get s a bit narrow but as soon as we’re out of town we speed up again.
Just before Matlock Bath I glance at the time and I’m confident we’ll make in the time I said, grins all round.
BOOOOM! What the fuck was that!? Looking around for what the noise was I realised my back wheel wasn’t going round. In fact I’m fishtailing all over the place and there’s a bus behind me with the driver leaning on the horn. Panic! Fuck! What’s happening? Stop Stop Stop!
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It’s over! A 6 inch rusty nail has gone through the back tyre, in the side and out the top! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!
I’m in bits, there’s nothing I can apart from sit at the side of the road and cry. Phoning Christine to tell her what had happened and that I couldn’t make it to meet her was one of the hardest calls I’ve ever had to make, but she offered to pick me up and give me a lift home.
When she got there I was in tears again and I couldn’t stop apologising for failing to complete the ride, she told me to shut up because I’ve done a fantastic job and not failed anything. Sniff sob…whatever.
Home now with a beer and feeling sorry for myself but, I shall return…
Second thought of the day, breakfast! A lovely couple around the corner from the pub offered to cook me breakfast today, people are amazing, I’ve cycled the length and breadth of England and I’ve never met a bad person. I love you all! But more importantly they’ve got a Tassimo coffee machine and after 10 days of crap coffee its the pure nectar!
Back at the pub, tent and stuff packed down and the old girl loaded up and we’re mooching along the Trans Pennine Way again which is great until we get on the New Junction Canal, the towpath is closed. Time to go off piste, no map so making it up as I go along, just heading in the general direction…as the saying goes, miles and smiles.
Back on track after what seems like a 10 mile detour we’re soon on the edge of Doncaster and scooting along the river Don. It’s getting harder to push the pedals round, check the brakes, they’re ok, legs feel fine, hmmmmm something’s not right. It takes me a few miles to realise that we’re going up hill for the first time for what seems like a hundred miles. Time for a pint.
Still climbing and really starting to feel my legs, I would’ve thought I’d be fit by now but I’ve got to get off and push. 200 feet in 5 miles doesn’t sound like much but I’m really suffering, even walking. Head down, onwards and upwards, moaning out loud to myself until I realise there’s people around me. Don’t care, been told a few times I’m mad.
Top of the hill and I can see down into Sheffield and looks bloody miles away! The lights fading I’m knackered, maps out of date, don’t where I’m going but at least its downhill.
After a few too many wrong turns into dead ends and missed turnings we’re down amongst the old steel works of Sheffield and in the half light it’s a bit creepy. Lets get out of here onto a main road.
I was planning on riding on to my second home of Hope today but after that last hill I’ve not got it in me plus it’s getting on for 8pm. I’m gong to get the train out and come back in the morning and do the last bit.