The image doesn't do justice to hours of cleaning then rubbing with Scotchbrite fiber. I decided to take some flash images at early dusk and it really didn't work as planned. The poor old grass is looking threadbare after the permafrost melted.
I must wipe the storage grease off the new chain. I always thought it was there to protect the chain on its travels. Not just to stop rust in the bike shop or warehouse. It is a dust magnet according to one YT biking expert and should be wiped off before use.
The Danish or British news will often trigger a monologue on the ridiculous. Or a ridiculous monologue about some daft item on the news. Take your pick. I have a [very] weird sense of humour which few others seem to share or even understand what I am trying to get at. My rants are often written with a broad grin. There is a saying that one should have the wisdom to know what cannot be changed. That doesn't mean the windmill should be ignored for general tilting purposes.
I do tend to wander through and around my life with a constant "eye out" for a potential photograph. I never go anywhere without my compact camera. Not even to the trike shed. I'd hate to miss a UFO if it flew over and I found myself without my camera. The camera lives in a cheap, lightly padded, "leatherette" vinyl case when I carry the camera in my jacket pocket. Then the case goes into a latched, soap dish type of plastic container when I'm out on the trike. Just for extra protection against crushing by the shopping. Sometime, usually in summer, I might slip the camera in its vinyl case into the back pocket of my cycling jersey. This only occurs when there is the potential for lots of images in a new area of exploration.
I have a lifetime habit of not wanting to stop on a ride except for brief "field gate" emergencies. That would mean I have to get off to open the saddlebag to find the camera buried in the spoil heap of shopping and other vital debris. I suppose I learned at a young age that stopping broke the will to reach my goal ASAP. I simply cannot ride slower than trying quite hard. I get on and I go as fast as reasonable possible at a pace which will not completely exhaust me too soon to reach my goal and return. Though I might well ignore the return journey in my decidedly fuzzy, speed/range calculations. I am a martyr to headwinds on return journeys. Having ridden myself inside out on the way to get there with a beneficial wind. Well, you have to, don't you? Else, why bother?
At the end of a long ride I am often dog tired and usually suffering from hunger knock, If I stopped I might be sorely tempted to just lie down in the verge and die. I kid you not! A bicycle is a life saver because it supports the rider when total exhaustion would fell a walker or runner. Saddle soreness has the opposite effect but must be ignored.
I was well past normal retirement age before I discovered chocolate bars and apple juice. Before then I'd simply go completely without eating or drinking on a ride. At up to 8 hours duration an 80+ mile ride would mean missing meals into the bargain. As well as my not eating snacks to keep my strength up due to the heavy exercise. Well, I suppose it kept my weight down to that of a cycling fit POW. Behaviour bordering on the completely and utterly insane, when I actually stop to think about it now.
When I did take food I'd often give it a long, free ride and then bring it all back home again. It just did not appeal while I was out. Or it would cause indigestion which was worse than being starving hungry and as weak as an earth worm.
I'm not very keen on drinking water but adding anything to the bottle would he infinitely worse! Now I am sent on my way with a mature Cheddar cheese sandwich, a large [organic] banana [or two small ones] a small carton of pure apple juice and one or two muesli chocolate bars. This would be for a planned ride in excess of 60 miles which means missing lunch. I didn't get on with the "energy bars" I tried and they often repeated on me. Corny Dark Chocolate Muesli Bars didn't for some reason. But I can only tolerate one, or perhaps two, in one long day of riding.
My wife, The Head Gardner and Chief Medical Officer, will ring me on my mobile phone, at our usual lunch time. To enquire whether I have eaten. [Usually the response is negative.] And then she will ring me again an hour later and remind me, yet again, to eat. After riding 80 miles I will sometimes stop to sit and eat on the cycle rack outside the local supermarket. It is often the only seat I see all day and only a few short miles from home. Even then I only eat to avoid accusations of wasting the time of The Chief Nutritionist and Head Chef of Tricycling Team UK [in Exile.]
There are very few country cafes or village pubs in Denmark and I wouldn't use them if there were. Bakers are fairly commonplace if a greasy pastry appeals. Though it never has. Most villages have supermarkets but I am never tempted to buy food for riding. I have bought bananas and digestives and brought them home without touching them despite being absolutely trashed from a long ride.
Today, I walked the forest route anticlockwise in a cold breeze. Lots of birds of prey and two very distant deer. My photographs failed to capture anything worth showing. Heard my first Blackbird's song this year. I took my hat and gloves off for the last leg to avoid overheating. Only to have my hair completely re-arranged by a racing petrol tanker/trailer on a blind corner. A feral cat was hunting in the verge, took one look at me, and fled! I blame the new hairstyle. Einstein would have understood. I wonder if you can still buy hairnets? I haven't seen one for years.
The sun finally broke through at lunchtime. The wind seemed to have decided it would hinder progress whatever my direction. I even spent time on the tri-bars to make better speed. Going well on the refurbished Trykit. 23 miles.