Try refreshing the page to ensure you are enjoying the latest version. I tend to make endless edits and corrections over time. Forgive the sometimes off-topic nature of my blog these days. Walking and enjoying the countryside are vital to my physical and psychological fitness and sense of well-being. They combine to undo the damage caused by an occasional excess of cycling. And, may even stave off another rant! Though I can't promise anything. My long-suffering wife, "The Head Gardener," refers to me as the Imelda Marcos of saddles and saddlebags. She is usually right about almost everything. So it may well be true.

22 Oct 2016

21st October 2016 No smoke without drizzle.


Friday 21st 46F, 8C, windy, heavy overcast, all day and night rain. Dark and miserably wet all day. My Brooks saddle cover is no longer waterproof! I tried an inverted bucket and then a storage tub. Neither was comfortable.

Saturday 22nd, 44F, 7C, light breeze, heavy overcast, more unbroken rain forecast after early showers. Still the same easterly winds.

A distant fire.

It was sticky underfoot as I used the spray tracks to cross fields. A huge cloud of white smoke was going up in the distance but quickly turned black. The site of the fire was hidden by foreground trees but seemed to be next to a large cattle shed. Gunfire broke out in that direction so I had no easy option to get closer via the track through the woods.

I turned right instead and climbed my once familiar route to the beech tree exit. The large fields, where the major drainage earthworks were going on, were still stubbled. So I cut across them towards home under heavy, grey skies. Much more rapid gunfire suddenly erupted behind me but I assumed it was further south. I saw three deer outside the woods, a couple of dozen pheasants at the entrance and then another deer bounding away in the woods. The light has changed completely with the paling of the leaves and the more open canopy. It has stayed dry so far so I am going out for my usual Saturday shopping ride with MTB winter boots, a rain jacket and assorted fingers crossed.

It was already drizzling when I left with a light, tail-crosswind. It rained steadily harder until I finally returned home. Then it stopped and didn't rain again. I couldn't be bothered with the sweaty rain jacket as my cycling jacket was damp proof enough. The crosswind had more of a headwind bias on the way back. I could see a very tall, district heating chimney for most of the second leg. Which only goes to prove that smoke never rises in Denmark. Several sociopaths/social inadequates brushed close past me in their haste to eschew all responsibility for their actions. All it ever takes is to ease off the accelerator just long enough to let the only oncoming car go past. But no. 15 rather soggy miles.

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