A day of more descent than ascent, hooray, not too far either. As I came down to breakfast madame’s two sons (7 or 8 or so) were squabbling because they didn’t want to clear the tables.
When I checked out they had achieved harmony and had a friend with them, all three happily laying the tables for lunch, discussing the finer points of napkin placement.
I set off in sunshine, expecting an easy day. Some winding lanes and a turn onto grassy track just where the local “Pony Club” were beginning a lesson. A collie dog started barking and chased after me, the pony club mistress shouting at the dog (or me) and twenty little riding-hatted heads on twenty fat little ponies watch me descend the track with the dog in chase.
Down in the valley was a good deal of water, plank bridges over streams or fords or tracks two inches deep in clear water. on one track deeply rutted with tractor tracks I cycled in the centre scaring groups of little frogs to jump into the puddles on either side, plop, plop, plop.
When things are going smoothly and life feels good for once there is always something isn’t there. Many old people go around with miserable looks fixed to their faces (have you noticed?) and the reason is that they know that if they relax and be happy some minor disaster will come and ruin things for them, so if they start off miserable they will be ready for it.
Getting off to cross a bridge I noticed that my rain jacket was not in its elastic holder on the saddle-bag. Damn. Did I pack it inside, did I leave it at the hotel? No – it must have fallen off somewhere on the ride. I had been going an hour – no point leaving it, little chance of finding a shop to buy a new one. I set off back along the tracks, frogs had returned to the central reservation, plop, plop, plop back into the puddles, collie was still there barking at my heels, the pony club all turned their little be-hatted heads again, the teacher shouted again. Back on the road I noticed a piece of twig stuck to the front wheel, making a tapping noise as the wheel went around, leaned over and pulled it off – followed by a hissing sound and little bubbles coming through the wet tyre surface. I had pulled the thorn out of a puncture. What next.
I continued while the tyre was servicible, keen to find the coat and it turned up on the grass verge a little further on.
Now for the puncture, set-up in a lay-by, the tyre and tube came off smoothly, couldn’t find the hole though, needed to immerse the tyre. There was a stream at the bottom of the valley a few hundred yards away, shortest route was through a field, a Charolais bull stood there, ignoring me and just grazing placidly – was it worth the risk? Well – these troubles come in threes don’t they? Best not to tempt fate, so I took the long way around.
Puncture safely mended I got back on the trail, at the pony club the parents had arrived in their SUVs to pick up the little ones, so twenty mothers and twenty be-hatted mini-riders turned and watched as I turned into the lane with the collie barking at my heels and the mistress shouting after me, the poor frogs were disturbed again too, plop, plop, plop.
The rest of the day was lovely, gentle September sunshine, green fields, plenty of downhill.
