Monday, 6 August 2007

Heat and Dust

The edges of my eyes are still red and my skin is bronzed where I sweated off the suncream. Yesterday was a proper summer's day. This weekend was a proper summer's weekend.

Saturday night we escaped. Tent up next to the river. Dunster Castle behind us. Mist clinging to the long grass in the valley. Hip flask, Jack Daniels, sound sleep.

Morning saw a beautiful sunrise, tinkering with bikes, hot tea and bacon rolls. 500 riders pouring out of Dunster and climbing up and up and up (and up) into Exmoor.

The views were breathtaking, hazy, summery, golden. The ups were sweaty, hot, bent double. The downs were eye watering, dangerous, fast, flowing. The end was welcome, more tea, cold cans of coke, congratulations, washing in the river and a sleepy crawl back down the motorway to Bristol.

People who don't have weekends like these are missing a huge chunk of happiness from their lives. Next year...


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