I don’t want to tempt fate, but the sun is shining (although there’s a bitterly cold wind blowing) and everything outside is starting to look suspiciously green and verdant. Is this going to be the start of Spring or are we going to be back to the endless rain again next week?
Let's hope not, because I’ve really had enough of the wet, and I really need the allotment to start drying out so I can get some digging done. While I’m talking about digging, and the allotment, I managed to get up to the plot for a couple of hours on Sunday morning, and have finally managed to get the main season potatoes in the ground. Tradition states that you plant potatoes at Easter, but as Easter moves around, that seems like a bit of a stupid idea, and even more so when you consider that statistically it’s more likely to snow at Easter than Christmas. (I assume it stems from the fact that people had a day off at Easter which gave them time to do it). Either way, the ground was far too wet at Easter to even consider digging, although I did get some early spuds into big pots, and as a bit of an experiment buried some more in last year's compost pile to see what happens. But getting anything into the ground has had to wait until this weekend (which some years would have been Easter anyway. See I told you it’s a silly tradition). I note that the potatoes in the compost heap have already broken the surface, so we will see in a couple of months if they're any good, although I suspect not as I’m guessing that the slugs will get most of them. A few years ago I planted Pumpkins into the compost pile in a similar experiment and they did really well, so I think it’s worth a try and there’s nothing to lose except a couple of seed potatoes. The seeds in the greenhouse are all doing ok too. It’s surprising how much warmer it is in the greenhouse, sheltered from the wind and with all the glass radiating the sun's warmth. The summer bedding flowers that I pricked out into individual modules last weekend are starting to get established in their new homes and I’ve had to move the Sweet peas and most of the Cabbages, which are going great guns, into the cold frame to make space for other stuff. I’ve also sown French and Runner beans this week, which are now in the cold frame waiting for the sun to do its magic, and I think that that’s most of the early seeds sown for now. There’s still plenty of stuff to get sown directly into the soil once it warms up a bit, but for now, I think it’s time to get on with some digging, ready to start planting stuff out in the coming weeks.
Strangely, it’s been a quiet weekend on the running and cycling front too. Looking through all the events in the local area, there was nothing on either front for this weekend. I guess that the London Marathon is the focus of everyone's attention on the running front, but I don’t know why there’s no bicycling fun going on.
The fact that there’s no organised fun to get involved with doesn’t normally stop me though and this weekend has been no different. Last weekend I pushed my cycling commute home on Friday afternoon out to 60 miles, just to get a few more miles in, which worked quite well, so this weekend, with nothing else to do, I've taken that idea one step further and pushed it out to 170 miles (180 if you add in the ride in to work on Friday morning) with a night out in the hammock on Friday night to make it a bit more of an adventure. I sorted out what looked like a reasonable route one evening in the week, The plan being to head out straight from work on Friday afternoon. Before heading up to the edge of the Cotswolds, and then looping back to end up back at home on Saturday afternoon. So, to that end, I dug the camping gear back out from the loft where it’s been languishing, feeling lonely, since my little adventure at Easter and as soon as I could escape from work I was away. Friday afternoon, had a viscous, cold, wind, blowing that made for some really hard miles. With the predominant wind direction being South-Easterly, I thought that I’d get away with it, but for the first time in forever, the wind on Friday was somehow coming from the North-West, also known as straight in my face all afternoon! Not an ideal situation, but all character building stuff. Although if I’m honest, I think that my character has had enough building for the time being, and it would be nice if the wind and rain would take a break and the sun would just come out for a bit.
An afternoon of fighting to make progress against the wind saw me in Witney for tea time, where I treated myself to one of Lidl’s finest donuts as a reward for my efforts and spent a few minutes huddled out of the wind, trying to stay warm enough to enjoy it.
With a planned 170 miles for the two days I ideally needed 85 on the Friday to even the mileage out, and looking at the map as I munched on my doughnut, it seemed that 85 miles would see me somewhere between Burford and Northleach, which seemed achievable. As is often the case, as the afternoon turned towards evening the wind died away, and whilst the climbs between Witney and Burford were somewhat testing on tired legs, there was plenty to keep my mind occupied and distract me from the task in hand, as I passed through pretty little Cotswold villages with expansive views across the rolling countryside from the hill tops. By 19:00 I’d reached Burford and took the opportunity to pick up some water ready for the night and for my breakfast in the morning, as well as the obligatory bedtime cookie. (There’s no point in putting in all that effort if you can’t treat yourself once in a while is there?)
Pushing on from Burford with one eye open for potential overnight Bivvy spots I had a few really pleasant miles in the evening sun following the River Windrush as it made its way from its source to link up with the Thames at some point downstream.
Having discounted a couple of possible overnight spots, I finally found somewhere suitable to hang my hammock just as darkness was descending, and called it a day, with 87 miles on the clock (98 if you include the 11 in to work in the morning). Setting up for the night the skies were clear and the full moon provided plenty of light to see by. In fact it was such a beautiful evening that there didn’t seem to be much point in putting the Tarp up, and I settled into bed with a beautiful view of the night sky silhouetting the naked trees above with the stars shining through. Beautiful!
Less than an hour after settling down for the night I was rudely awakened by spots of rain falling onto my head and the wind whistling through the trees. The moon which had been so bright less than an hour ago was long gone, and I was getting wet!
Struggling back out of my warm sleeping bag I had a mad rush around in the dark to try and get the tarp set up before everything got soaked. Whilst the still strengthening wind tried its best to hamper proceedings by pulling things in every direction I didn’t want them to go in, and generally making a nuisance of itself. Finally back in bed again, I lay for a while listening to the wind in the trees and some Deer off in the distance calling to each other, before drifting back off to sleep. Now, I’m pretty sure that I didn’t dream it, but around midnight I awoke to the sound of footsteps on the road which was a few meters away. Between my arrival just after 20:00 and midnight there hadn't been a single vehicle passing down the road, but footsteps, that was strange. And not just any footsteps either, but the rhythmic footfall of a runner. Laying still, the footsteps grew louder, before passing along the road a matter of feet away from my little hideaway and progressing steadily up the hill. I’d say how strange, and I’m pretty sure that I didn’t dream it. But a runner, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, really? If it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve been that runner, progressing steadily through the darkness on more than a few occasions, I’d say that I was definitely dreaming. But in actual fact, I probably wasn’t, and it probably was someone else out on their own adventure through the night. Either way, dream or reality, good luck fellow adventurer, I hope your night time exploits were rewarding and enjoyable, and thanks for not disturbing my slumbers!
By the time the dawn chorus alerted me to the start of another day, the overnight wind and rain had moved on, and the day dawned, cold and clear, with the hints of a light frost glinting from the roadside verges.
Sitting in my hammock with a hot brew warming my fingers and watching the sun slowly rise through the trees is always a magical moment, and Saturday morning was no different. I couldn’t spend all morning swaying gently in the morning sun though, as there was still the small matter of another 85 miles to cover if I was going to get home today. So to that end I was packed up and on the road, with the cold, frosty, air nipping at my fingers by 06:30. With no sign of my night time companion I made steady progress along the quiet country roads as the inhabitants of the roadside houses slumbered on, blissfully unaware of my passing. Through Northleach, Cricklade and on to Royal Wootton Bassett where I stopped and joined the early morning shoppers to replenish my supplies and pick up a second breakfast.
From Royal Wootton Bassett it’s all familiar roads. Roads that I’ve ridden a hundred times before on days out and longer adventures. They're always different though and there’s always something to see that you've never noticed before.
That’s the beauty of travelling slowly, you’ve got the time to notice things that you’d never see in a car. They would either be gone in a flash or you’d be too busy looking at the road to even notice. Not by bike though. There’s time to look around, time to take in your surroundings and time to learn the lay of the land and how different places and roads interact with each other.
Lost in my daydreams, the miles ticked steadily along. Marlborough came and went, as did Hungerford. And before I knew it I was on the home straight. One more long drag of a climb, one more steep one, and then it’s all downhill from there.
There was time for one more brew stop first though. Another chance to sit in the sun whilst I waited for the kettle to boil and one more chance to sit with my back against a farm gate and watch the world go by for a few minutes. Before I knew it though it was all over. By mid afternoon I was back at home with another 85 miles in my legs, just as “The Emma” was getting up from her night shift. Plenty of time for a brew, sort my kit out and chill out for a couple of hours before tea time. And that, in my book, isn't a bad way to start the weekend. 170 miles, a night out in the Hammock, sunshine, moonlight nights, rain showers, stunning expansive views, the freedom of the road, strong winds and most importantly a few hours of freedom with nothing to worry about except turning the pedals and where to stop for a brew. That’ll do me, thank you very much!
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
March 2024
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