That’s the fifth different stuff I’ve tried on the graffiti on the top entry sign at the Lang Craigs and it’s finally fading. I think it’s more giving up with boredom up that being chemically removed.
I was up there late again, the sun was hitting the skyline before I was at the crags and it was bloody cold. I’m going to have to start wearing long sleeved base layers again. I need warmer bike gloves as well ice climbing gloves might stave off the frost but I can’t feel the brake levers. Couldn’t feel the ground either, it was so wet on the descent that I had both wheels drifting which is quite er, exciting in the dark.
Although the sunset was a mere 3 out of 10, a wee while after the sun fell over the scenery there was a shot of pink on a what clouds there were high up and it lit up a vapour trail like it was a strip of neon.
Looking to the northern made me smile too, the winter skirting of pink, purple and blue is here. I was supposed to be at 920m right now, but being a one car family just now means some last minute adjustments as we go through the week.
Can’t complain about any of it at all. Sitting in the saddle heating my hands up before the final run down to the gate the world was a wonderful place. When I shot down the silent hill to the A82 roadside it was like suddenly waking up in a revolving tumble drier full of headtorches, it was a shock to my system after the previous serenity.
Reality is a noisy aggravating bastard at times.