The previous day's exertions into the wind had left my legs feeling drained and there was a further 80 miles into another cold northerly in prospect. I was glad that I had resorted to throwing in the kitchen sink when packing - including my last pack of charcoal hand warmers. Simply open the pack, wait for the sachet to warm up and pop it under your neoprene bootie on top of your shoe. I use them a lot in the depths of winter, but resorting to them in the last week of June has got to be a first. The valleys up through the Scottish borders are exceptionally pretty, with more sheep than cars. I gave them a wide berth on the bike, but Dad was roped into helping round some up by a shepherd and a very overworked sheepdog. My legs were dead, with the slightest gradient forcing me into the granny gear, and I had a real bad spell between 30 and 60 miles.
81.1 miles, 14.6 mph
No comments:
Post a Comment