I’ve a friend with a facebook album about her time in South America called Brrr and fuck all this walking. It always cracked me up, they were probably in one of the most beautiful places in the world going on amazing walks and the lasting memory is it was cold and they had to walk a lot. My memory of this period of the cycle was pretty similar.
Finally I was on the home straight, not long now surely. I stopped, put a jumper on, had a flapjack and a few jelly babies and keyed in Johnny’s address as the destination. If I know Johnny as well as I think I do he’ll invite me right in for tea and strumpets. I can almost taste them. Could not believe the remaining distance: 21 miles. This was sick, I’d just managed more than half way and I was ready for bed.
The panniers were just so much heavier than I anticipated and were really slowing me down. Even on a downhill on a good road at full speed I only managed 37kph. Should have listened to that fashion guy - before you leave the house always remove one item from your panniers. Who needs clean boxers anyway? The extra weight was also somehow straining on my back and neck. My legs were fine except I guess I hadn’t tightened the cleat on my right foot enough and it was pointing slightly to the left which was making my knee a little sore. Fuck it though I hadn’t really put any effort in yet, I’d start pushing it out and I’d be there in no time.
The flapjack jelly baby sambo gave me a nice burst and I was flying for the next while but eventually I started tiring out. I knew I hadn’t managed 10 miles since that last stop but was still disheartened to see 13 to go. Message from Johnny 19.05: ‘Gona put some dinner on, how you getting on?’
Legend. ‘Sounds good, I’ll have that. 13 miles away but kind of slowing down, aiming for 8pm.’
After warming up my hands so many times and them still being cold I started debating whether or not to warm up my feet. The left one which I was rarely clipping out of was by far my coldest extremity. It wasn’t worth the hassle though. Stopped, warmed my hands, and hoped I’d done 6.5. Damn it, still 7 left. Went on. Stopped. Warmed hands. Hoped I was down to 3.5. Damn, 4.6. It was getting late and it was pitch dark and I just passed a sign for a pet cemetery; get me the fuck to Hook. I knew there was a river just before the turn for his house, get me a river and I’m home. It was still way too early but I couldn’t help but look out for it all the time. 4.6 miles should be easy. Stopped again at 2.2. Fuck sake no more stops. Came to a hill, was this the river? Be a river. Can’t see one. Another slight hill, looked to my left ‘be a river, be a river…yeah you are!’ No it wasn’t, it was a tiny little stream not much bigger than the one I left behind the billboard but hot diggidy damn it was good enough for me.
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