Shite weather is built to be enjoyed if approached in certain ways. A family day out saw me hit the couch at 2100hrs like a Fallschirmjäger crashing through a chicken coop roof which contrasted well with the quickly following Sunday morning where the girls buggered off to a kids party and left me all lonely with the rain running down the living room window. Even an episode of Kojak and my Spongebob lounge pants failed to brighten the new day.
The rain came and went with the whims of wind that carried it. I could either see the hills on the horizon or I could see no further than my side of the river. Perfect for going out to play in the Kilpatricks and the bike was needing to stretch its legs after the wheel repair.
I like trail running or mountain biking in the rain. Moving that bit faster I can cope with the conditions better, wet-through and muddy doesn’t seem so bad when I’m working hard, warmed up and concentrating.
There’s an added aspect of pure joy too, playing so close to home I don’t care how manky or wet I get, there’s a hot shower, a boiling kettle and woolly slippers waiting. Camp never has that stuff, so I tend to approach it with less enthusiastic gay abandon on my way there. I like a clean tent.
I met a family staying at the holiday cottages high on the hillside, three weans with maw and paw venturing up the track in the gathering dusk. The Kilpatricks are a proper tourist destination now, imagine that.
The wee bit of banter by the gate gave me a timely rest, it’s a climb I can’t complete in the saddle in one take, but I’m working on it again.
I stopped again only once by the reservoir. It was silent, driech and dreary. I chilled quickly in my sodden clothes but it was silent, deserted and windless, the hills were all mine this evening. I breathed out and sighed in unison and then sat for a minute drinking some Robinsons’s orange. Magic. And, time for a photie.
The descent was fast and loose, the track was swimming. I’m relearning the trail, so I can relax and bit and keep the brake levers covered but not pulled.
Holly shrieked at the muddy man who appeared at the door. Apparently my legs were scary.
I’m tired tonight, but it’s an honest tired which I don’t mind at all, I earned it.
What the hell would I do without hills at my door?