More than a feeling..or, is this the road to Hull?

Out of Oundle, and we’re pretty swiftly into the Fens. For those of you not familiar with the East Coast of England, it’s flat. Really flat. Like someone’s taken a celestial steamroller and crushed all opposition beneath its wheels. Then man has come along and peppered a few farm houses here and there, the occasional hamlet desperately clinging on to passing trade and subsidised farming. The day is beautiful and sunny as if it’s welcoming me out on my little adventure.

So, first stop Boston. This town where the tidal rivers Witham and Haven merge is a strange amalgam of tidal river port and farming community, and always makes me feel like I am closer to the sea than I really am..or further inland than I really am. Where I come from rivers stay in their place unless it rains heavily, and rarely, if ever, go down to mudflats and sandbanks.

But this town is where the fun starts.. finally heading north down wonderfully winding B roads and lesser known A roads, and the Fens turn almost instantly into the gently rolling hills of the Lincolnshire Wolds, almost as if someone has crumpled the sheets on a well made bed. There are windmills both old and new, and towns with wonderful names like Mavis Enderby and Belchford. Later on I will regret not visiting Wetwang, or the abandoned village of Wharram Percy, but I have to press on, heading north into a sombre sky. The sun has passed, and a steady mizzle has me feeling glad that I’m in a car today.

The road unfolding in front of me brings a strange and deep peace that settles into my mind, my heart, and even into my bones. At the moment there is nothing to decide, nothing to juggle – no pressure, no demands. I don’t feel guilty about what I’m not doing, or wonder if I should be somewhere else. There’s just me and the open road, crunching miles under my tyres. A brief stop in the old Roman village of Caistor and then it’s on to the Humber bridge.

A moment of panic when Waze tells me that it’s 70 miles to my next stop, and I assume the bridge must be shut.. then I remember that I’ve told it to avoid toll roads and we’re only a couple of miles the other side of the estuary, over the bridge. I’ve crossed with this bridge before, but this time I have a real sense of vertigo and dizziness crossing under the high pillars that hold the catenary wires, and I have to focus hard on the road ahead.

The Wolds of the East Riding of Yorkshire bring more wonderful roads that wind and dip and swoop and bring deep tranquillity back in a heartbeat.. I can see why the bikers like them, and so I take a diversion of a few miles cos that’s what the book suggests, and stop for coffee at the Seaways biker haunt. It’s a bit short of trade today, with just one scooter riding local in the shop, but the pie and the coffee are good, so I’m heading toward the coast and Scarborough.

I’ve never been to Scarborough, so it’s time for another diversion to a windswept and rainlashed sea wall. You have to be keen to be out today, but there’s plenty of takers – dog walkers, ramblers, young couples strolling romantically if determinedly hand in hand.

The last leg takes me round the edges of the North York moors and roughly up the coast to Whitby. While I expect to return to Robin Hood’s Bay the next day, I decide that a stop is in order, pausing just long enough to get a couple of photos before jumping back in the car. You never know what tomorrow might bring, so it’s best to take memories when you can get them.

Finally, it’s into the hostel, sitting quietly in the shadow of Whitby Abbey on top of the hill above the town. It’s almost ethereality quiet – the kitchens are closed and everyone is staying in their own space. But rooms are good value – a twin is less than £30 a night. I get settled – the room is spartan but comfortable,, and I’m reminded of a monk’s cell, if a monk’s cell had bunk beds.

Time for a walk down the hill into town – fish and chips by the sea seems to be appropriate, and I take a stroll down the harbour wall, the twin lighthouses at the end flashing red and green to guide the trawlers and fishing boats in to harbour. A gentle stroll round the town turns into a high energy climb back up to hostel.. time to write this blog before I turn in for the night. Tomorrow promises sunny spells…

Peterborough – Boston – Horncastle – Louth – Caistor – Barton-Upon-Humber – Pocklington 0 Fridaythorpe – Foxholes – Scarborough – Whitby

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Ripley and Timmy have an adventure

Ripley says (an introduction): I came to live with Mummy and Daddy in June when I was eleven months old, but in September Mummy and Daddy got married. Lots of their friends came to see them and they are very very happy. After they got married Timmy who is my Daddy’s Daddy came to live with us to look after me and Frank and Cherry and Beetlejuice while they were on honeymoon in America. And I started borrowing Timmy’s Facebook page and writing about our adventures. And when I had finished and Mummy and Daddy had come home again (yay!) and Timmy had gone home (boo!) I thought I would put them all the stories together in one place. So I did.

This is me.

(I’m a girl, by the way)

This is Mummy and Daddy.

This is what I wrote.

Ripley says: The reason I am stealing Timmy’s Facebook page to tell you my stories is that my Mummy and Daddy just got married and are in Los Angeles. And they miss me and want regular updates. So Timmy is looking after me. I’m called Ripley because all the animals have movie names. I am named after Ripley from Alien because I am a heroic female role model. Cherry is named after Cherry Darling from Grindhouse because she only has three legs and she is a heroic female role model too. Beetlejuice the hamster is named after Beetlejuice (aka Betelgeuse) from the movie of the same name and Frank is called Frank because his real name is Doyle Wolfgang Von Frankencat and he is named after the lead guitarist from the Misfits, who played himself in Animal Room.

In other news, today I chewed my way through my lead. Timmy was actually quite smart because he had already knotted the slip ring on my lead ‘just in case’. I am doing my best ‘it wasn’t me’ impression but he is not convinced. Perhaps I can blame it on Frank.

Ripley says: today I did lazing around while Timmy did his accounts. I try hard to pretend I am a baby deer as it confuses people. Every now and again I get up and run round like a wild thing just to make sure Timmy is still awake.

Meanwhile, Frank looked disapprovingly on from the stairs. I think he is cross that I ate his food yesterday, but he eats Cherry’s food when she’s not looking so it’s only fair.

Ripley says: today we did a big walk in the fields. I want to eat lots of the interesting things but Timmy won’t let me. Sometimes I am too quick for him though. Sometimes he looks a little bit green when I eat something.
We went through this field of corn. I like corn, but Timmy didn’t tell me it was corn until we had gone all the way through it. I got my own back by dragging him all the way back to the car, then I ate his orange pen and chewed through the strings on his diary. Now I am going to have a nice sleep and look cute.

PS here is a picture of some double decker cats. Cherry is hiding, and I am not sure what Frank has on his head.

Ripley says: Today I woke Timmy up at 5am so I could go for a walk. After that he seemed to need a lot of coffee. I tried to have coffee but I am not allowed. So I ate the carpet instead.

Ripley says: today we did books. Timmy said he absolutely devoured the latest Jasper Fforde so I thought I would try that. I can’t see what all the fuss is about, it’s bit bland for my taste. I did get my teeth into the latest Empire magazine though.

Ripley says: it wasn’t me, it was the shark what done it.

Ripley says: these are the Penthouse Pets. Well, they live on the top floor and mostly they look really pissed off at me cos I can jump the stairgate and eat their food if Timmy isn’t fast enough.

Ripley says: Today I did guard duty. I guarded the house against cats and postmen. Then I went bonkers and ran round the house.

Ripley says: Today we did some work in the yard and I helped Timmy with some computer stuff.

Ripley says: today I took Timmy on a big walk, so in the afternoon I sat in the garden and soaked up some rays.

Ripley says: today Timmy took me out on my long lead. It was great because I could run and chase my stick. I am really good at running because I have very long legs, and I am absolutely useless at stopping because I have very long legs. After a while I got fed up and made Timmy fetch the stick while I chased a fly. Then on the way home I jumped in the brook so I was a soggy doggy, but I have been dried and combed so I look cute again.

   

Ripley says: Today was a really ‘citing day. After I got Timmy up we went for a walk down to the town and I met my friends the big black labrador and the baby black labrador and I was a good girl and didn’t bark at any other dogs then I had breakfast and a lie down and then Jonny’s mummy came over and took me for a little walk but I was still tired from my morning walk and so we sat and I had another lie down then Timmy came back and he’d been to big town and bought me a new harness and it came in a plastic box that I could chew instead of chewing my harness and we went for my lunchtime walk then I had a biiiiiig snooze all afternoon then in the evening Timmy took me out for a long walk with my long lead and I chased my stick and I had a thoughtful moment while I watched the sunset and I explored the hedges and then we walked across the playing fields and I found a ball and I chased that then I tried to tie Timmy up with my long lead like the dalmatian does in Serendipity and then we walked back home then we drove down to town in Timmy’s car and I got sausages because I had been a good girl.

Then Frank escaped and Timmy had to search for him with a torch and I barked ‘cos I found him. Now I am going to chew my new box some more and catch up on my beauty sleep.

Ripley says: yesterday was so ‘citing that today I let Timmy have a lie in and we had a short walk until I decided to just sit down and not go any further then I lounged about the house. Linda is coming to look after me tonight so I will have someone else to play with. At least Timmy hasn’t lost Frank today.

Ripley says: I had Linda over to look after me on Friday ‘cos Timmy had to go out dancing and laying a floor, whatever that means. I am not sure what they did to him but he wasn’t very well when he came back, so we had a lazy day of sports. We went and watched the cricket, I balanced a ladybird on my nose (but it flew away before Timmy could get a photo) then we did some running and playing tug of war. We went for a walk down the road but the cats weren’t out in the garden where they usually are when I go to say hello. But I spotted a cat that was obviously trying to plant some sort of explosive device under Timmy’s car so I gave it ‘the look’ until it slunk off. Then I did some more sleeping and stretching. I am a very binary dog.And here are some gratuitous pictures of cats just to prove that they are both still alive and well and Timmy hasn’t lost either of them.

Timmy tells me that Mummy and Daddy are coming home soon. Hooray!

Ripley says: this evening we went out with my long lead again and I did a lot of running up and down. Sometimes I didn’t go and fetch my stick so Timmy had to go and get it. I like to make sure he gets exercise too.
When I felt tired we had a picnic in the grass because Timmy brought treats with him. Then I did some more running.

Then the best bit of the day happened. I found the osier beds by the brook and went running and splashing and digging up in the mud and I went roun…d and round and round and tried to tie Timmy up in the long lead again but he was a bit too fast jumping over the lead although I think he looked like an Irish dancer. Then we went home and Timmy said I had to have a bath so I had a bath and a shower and some of the time I was a bit scared and Timmy held me close and that made me feel better. And it made Timmy all wet and soggy. So I got my revenge. Now I am all clean again but I smell faintly of raspberries.

Ripley says: Drama! Excitement! Last night Timmy left a door open and Frank got out. By the time I spotted him through the fence he was in the garden next door, but by the time Timmy had got to next door he had gone. So I jumped the fence to look for him but he had vanished. Timmy had to wander up and down the fields and round the houses looking like a burglar. Then he had to come and rescue me and carry me out of the garden next door round the field and through the gate at the top. While he was doing this Cherry got out, but since Cherry has only got three legs it wasn’t hard to get her back. Frank was harder as he had just completely gone missing.

He turned up an hour later back in the garden next door, and he wasn’t very happy at all. I heard a lot of spitting and yowling and some cat words that are not very polite. Timmy had to jump the fence (he is getting quite good at this) and encourage Frank to jump the fence again. I think he may have used some human words that are not very polite.Then I escaped out of the front door and ran round the block very fast. Timmy can’t run that fast, but eventually I stopped to talk to some children and they brought me home.

After that Timmy had a drink and a lie down.Timmy has gone to the airport now to get Mummy and Daddy so I am being very quiet.

Ripley says: Here’s a couple of pictures that Timmy found on his camera.

There’s a picture of one of my places that I am always really ‘cited to get to when I walk past, ‘cos sometimes there are cats there and we have a staring contest. They usually win.

And there’s a picture of me standing by the side of the road not chasing cars. I am trying to be good at not chasing cars because apparently they can hurt me a lot and because Timmy says I won’t know what to do if I catch one.

Ripley says: Today was the best day EVER. I mean, I know playing on my long lead was ‘citing, and so was running in the osier beds and getting muddy. And finding out how to get into next door’s garden and making new doggie friends was ‘citing too.

But today Timmy went out early in the morning and when he came back he had brought Mummy and Daddy back with him and I was so ‘cited and I didn’t know whether to say hello to Daddy or Mummy or Timmy and I hugged Daddy lots and lots and then we went outside before I got too ‘cited so I didn’t do a wee on the clean carpet. And Daddy played ball with me in the passage by the side and I ran and ran and EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUL. I love my Mummy and Daddy. I like Timmy too, but I LOVE my Mummy and Daddy.

Although Daddy has put on a bit of weight. I will take him on long walks.

Bollocks to Brexit

A couple of weeks ago, I marched on Westminster.

I joined the People’s Vote March in London, along with maybe a hundred thousand of my fellow countrymen, demanding that we the people have our democratic say in the Brexit process.

I’ve never marched before. I could have stayed at home and carried on rebuilding the computer that will replace the one I ran over a couple of weeks ago. Or fixed the car. Or gone on a bike ride. Or a hundred other things that clamour for my time and attention. But I felt this was sufficiently important to actually take a day out, shell out on a train ticket, get myself down to London and be part of the rally. It was hot. It was crowded. It was slow. But it was so, so worth it.

Would one person make that much difference? Maybe not. But a hundred thousand other Brits made similar decisions. They chose to give up their day for something they believed passionately about. They came from up and down the country. They were young – and old. They came, at a guess, from all parts of society, but what did seem to set them apart was that they weren’t just marching because someone told them to. They weren’t just marching because they felt they’d be left out. Each one of them made an individual choice that said "Brexit is not working, and we need to do something about it". And maybe my presence stood for the huge number of of my friends that feel the same way. In that case, millions marched today.

Two years ago I woke to the result of the Brexit vote, and I wept. I wept at the loss of my dreams for unity and peace. I wept at the loss of my hopes for a world united. I wept for my country and its xenophobia and haughty pride. I wept for my children and the destruction of their future.

Since then, not a single thing has happened to convince me that this was a good idea. The £350 million a day that we were going to spend on the NHS? It was a lie. Brexit is the only way to control immigration? A lie. The economy will be just fine? Another lie.  There will be no downside? Really? The free trade agreement will be easy? Complete hogwash.

What we see is a government that two years after the Brexit vote still have no idea how to implement it. The only thing that seems clear is that we will be worse off. We will be worse off individually – in our pockets, in loss of international mobility, in a more limited future. We will be worse off as a nation, through loss of businesses, loss of political power, loss of trade agreements, loss of international influence.

What I see, two years on, is a Britain shorn of kindness. We see a government that saw the Brexit vote as a mandate to rule. Narrowly holding on to a majority through deals and skulduggery, this government has shown its true colours as a government of the rich and the rich alone. We see our NHS stripped of its benefits and parcelled off to the private sector. We see decisions that strip our citizens of their basic human rights.

But are we surprised? What we felt was faceless EU bureaucracy was actually the very system that fought for the rights of the individual over the rights of big business, forcing better working conditions and equal opportunities on employers. That demanded high standards for food and services. Of course the business owners wanted out. They wanted a return to the old days where they made the rules – where money was absolute power.

But we see the destruction that Brexit is wreaking – and remember that big business, global business, doesn’t care. Airbus is likely to move out of the UK. So are BMW. Banks, financial institutions are all likely to relocate. London as a centre of trade is going to be destroyed. Unilever, my old employers, proud for a century of their dual nationality corporate centre, are going to move head office to Rotterdam. We get blue passports, but the price we pay is likely to be restricted travel and travel visa charges. Our NHS lacks doctors and nurses because no-one is joining us from overseas. Food rots in the fields because we lack the influx of labour that allows our farmers to pick their crops. We see that Trump’s America is not going to do any of us any favours, with levies and taxes, quotas and duty… did we really believe we were better out of a huge trading coalition than in it? Really? Trump is already talking about a G3 comprising China, Russia and the US where the EU is left out.. do we really think little Britain gets a seat at that table?

For fuck’s sake, what are we doing?

I believe in democracy. But a vote is just a part of the democratic process. And a vote based on ignorance, lies, half truths and lack of knowledge, distorted by our press and influenced by outside interference, is not a democratic vote. We are a wiser nation now. We know the implications. We can see the future. There will still be those that believe that we are best to return to an island nation – to pull up the drawbridge and distil our xenophobic hatred. There will still be those who believe that it’s best to get rid of the protections of the EU and the European courts so they can stamp their imprint on ordinary folk.

That is not what this country needs. This country needs to see the future coming, a future of increasing globalisation and co-operation (we pray) between nations. We need to have a seat at that table, able to trade on equal terms with the others, able to be part of a decision making process that shapes the world throughout the rest of the 21st century. We are a strong country, and a powerful country. But we can only be that if we are prepared to play together with the rest of the world’s leaders, and not to take our ball and go home and sulk. We need leaders who are prepared to make the hard choices. The difficult choices. To stand up to those that seem to hold the cards and represent this country as a whole rather than the minority.

Let Brexit have been a wake up call. For that, it may have been worth it. If it helped us realise how precious what we have is. How important it is to be part of Europe. How much value that membership really gives us.

But now let democracy rule. The majority of the people in this country do not want to leave the European Union. Let there be a vote to demonstrate what we want based on what we now know. I’m certain we’ve got it wrong.

Aviemore Alliteration

(My apologies for the delay in posting this.. it got buried after my visit in May. And my apologies for the poor pictures – I managed to forget to charge my camera before leaving)

   I have two sons. One of them lives across town from me. Close enough that I can walk his lurcher, Ripley.. of which more another day, perhaps. The other one… he lives in Edinburgh. Which is MILES away. Which means I have a perfect excuse to go up to Scotland four or five times a year. Hop on a train in Peterborough… hop off at Waverley station. Piece of cake.

And one of my goals for 2018 is to have more adventures. So rather than just visiting Davey and his girlfriend, wandering the streets of Edinburgh, drinking lots of coffee and coming home again, which is all very nice.. it was time for an adventure. And time for some thoughtful space. And to have a little fun. And perhaps do a little alliteration on the way. Because alliteration actually aids amusing anecdotes….God forgive me….

Moggies, Meandering and the Macabre

So first off, having walked to work with D, I had the morning to myself. I had wanted to visit the Cat Café in Edinburgh for a while. So I spent an hour in the company of a dozen assorted ragdolls, Norwegian forest cats, Siamese and more (https://www.maisondemoggy.com/meet-the-cats/) all with their own fabulous space, lots of toys and lots of space to hide. Being around animals has the not unsurprising effect of making me deeply deeply happy, and this bunch of somewhat dismissive felines with their ‘another day, another human’ approach to their day had me very much comfortable with my life.

I spent the rest of the afternoon following the footsteps of grave robbers Burke and Hare round Edinburgh city centre – there is a wonderful trail at geocaching.com which is well researched and brilliantly written, if slightly disturbing. OK, very disturbing.. especially when you get to the end. Apparently Burke’s skeleton is on display at Edinburgh Anatomy museum. Who knew?

Magic, Musing and Merlin

Day 2 had me climbing Arthur’s Seat. It’s one of my favourite spaces in Edinburgh, and although my preferred access route is a steep and rocky climb, the views of the city are exceptional, and the sky was clear, even if I did get the sense that I might get blown off the side of the hill if I wasn’t careful. I took a little side trip to Merlin’s Chair, the second summit, a space I have always loved, and often spend time just sitting here… and found myself getting insight and understanding as to what was coming up next for me.. as the wind blew all the dust and cobwebs out of my head. Good job I have no hair…

And then, after helping polish off a 20" pizza (something which requires extra care when manoeuvring it through doorways) I bid adieu to the Edinburgh clan and headed off on the train to Aviemore, deep in the heart of the Scottish highlands. Train travel is a wonderful way to get around, and I watched rapt as mountains and lochs, burns and seaviews unfolded in front of me. There’s still snow on the top of the Cairngorms, but the spring foliage makes everywhere look truly fabulous, deep greens contrasting with the lighter and brighter colours to create a canopy of colour, while here and there blossom dotted the valleys.

Falcons, Forests and Futures

And so into Aviemore. Having made my bed up in the hostel, it was time for a wander. I discovered that I was about 300m from the Craigellachie Nature Reserve – a haven of tranquillity and beauty a few yards from the busy A9. And then a wander round the woods and trails that orbit Aviemore itself, finding myself drawn into a deeper and deeper sense of peace and calm – a tranquil sense that not only was everything all right with my world, but that changes coming up in my life, while not yet fully clear, would add even more to that complete certainty of the perfection of everything. A few minutes conversation with the cows, and then I found myself being entertained by the swoops and and cries of a family of peregrine falcons, fuelling delight and happiness at a perfect evening.

And so back to the hostel, armed with supplies for breakfast. I wonder what I will do tomorrow!

Munros, Mountains and Memories

It seemed like a jolly good plan to get on the bus for Cairn Gorm mountain centre. This half hour journey has to be the best value on the planet as it winds uphill from the Spey past lochs and pine forests, deeper and deeper into the Cairngorm mountain area. And all for £4.35 return.

On arrival, I only planned to wander a little way up and then take a leisurely saunter back past the loch. I wasn’t actually going to climb the darned thing! But a wander up the mountain side, through the eerily still and silent ski lifts and poma tows seduced me to go that little bit further.. until I found myself climbing the ridge route up to the peak, and trailing past trickling burns, now quieter after the majority of the snow had melted – and tramping across the snow that remained, snow that had drifted deep (followed by an attack of vertiginous panic which led me to take a different route). Then I just wanted to see where the funicular railway went. Then I found a rope climb path to the peak. It would have been rude not to try, especially as the folk who’d taken the easy route up on the funicular weren’t allowed to…

The view from the top was spectacular, although I have to confess that heights do make me slightly nervous… a state which was ramped up when, while eating my lunch, the Heriot-Watt automated weather station started its 2pm measurements, the resulting jump in the air causing my day to top out at about 1247m above sea level.

Having escaped the visitor centre (I swear, there’s no way out if you’re a walker without going past the ‘Staff Only’ signs) I ambled back down. I swear down is harder. If I had a snowboard, I could have run the remaining snow down in a couple of minutes, but I was forced down the zigzags of the green routes. On the way I was somewhat surprised to make the acquaintance of a couple of ptarmigan, also out for a stroll, who I christened Pterry and Pteresa. (One of my friends has a ptabby cat called Ptolemy, a fact which always makes me happy).

Although my delight at the achievement was somewhat reduced by realising that I had only walked 6km according to the satellites…

Trees, train tracks and trekking

So, the next day I havered over the possibility of renting a bike. I havered too much. Having walked across town to discover that the bike rental shop was closed on Sunday operating from their down town location near my hostel, I decided to walk.

I met the local weather forecaster on my way out of town, and he wasn’t wrong.

Fortunately, it cheered up.

Scotland has the unique ability of making something which in England would be dull and flat into an exciting trail, so with the Cairngorms to my right and the Highlands to my left, I tromped through pine forests, only occasionally overtaken by mountain bikers. I realised also that I absolutely love pictures of paths, a fact which is [a] convenient, because I am usually on one and [b] enlightening..everyone’s on a journey…) Every now and again the Speyside steam train would puff past, full of jolly tourists.. I can’t help thinking they were missing the real fun of being close to nature.

Having reached Boat of Garten, the only solution was to turn round and walk back.. this time on the wrong side of the tracks. My feet struggled with every step, but the route I had taken led me up and down through woods and moorland. At one point I saw a family of red deer in the distance, out for an evening stroll.

And so back to the bunkhouse… feeling an insane amount of joy as I removed my aching and (it has to be said) somewhat ridiculously soggy boots.

Return, relaxing and rebooting

And so back to Edinburgh – a three hour trip again through gorgeous scenery as mountains seemed to amble past my window, as streams and rivers unfolded beneath viaducts and bridges and sheep played in the sun. And then the luxury of a First Class seat back to Peterborough. Something has shifted inside me… a Rubicon has been crossed and the last couple of days have made more of a difference to me than I know. Exactly how that plays out over the next few weeks, I am yet to learn. But something significant has changed in the depths of my being, and it feels like life is rebooting…

More adventures this year!

Find out more at www.timhodgson.org

Down by the water

As regular readers will know, I regularly take a trip out to Rutland Water for some down time. It’s one of my favourite places to be, and it’s not far away from home.

For those of you who don’t know, Rutland Water is a huge artificial lake in the middle of England (the biggest by surface area in the country), created by flooding the Gwash valley. Down under the waters are a couple of villages, flooded when the dam was built.

And I have always been fascinated by Rutland.. this strangely named county that’s the smallest in England. And for someone who lives in Northamptonshire, the hills of Rutland are just that little bit more extravagant.

I am sufficiently crazy to want to cycle there – then I can cycle round the reservoir, see a bit of wildlife, get some exercise…

When God designed Rutland, for some reason she decided that all the hills and valleys should run east to west. For a poor soul on a bike, carrying a tent, a sleeping bag, camping gear and a few odds & sods necessary to survival, this means big hills. Long hills. Tire your thighs out till they burn kinda hills. On the upside, I am now toting a backpacker tent rather than the two man version that I had last year.

But around 35km later, I am happily at my favourite camp site overlooking Rutland Water, and my new tent is set up and coffee is brewing (thanks to a fabulous little gas burner which was a Father’s Day present from my son). There are few facilities here, but it’s peaceful and has fabulous views of the Water. I do have one final task for the day though.. cycle to Oakham cos I need some food. Back on the bike and an hour later I am making dinner. As the light dies, I can see an owl hunting over the field not 20 metres away.

The weather forecast was for a shower. This is, of course, England. At night the skies opened for a downpour, causing one of my friends to ask if I had been washed away. But the sound of the rain on the tent is calming, and relaxing, and the waterproofing holds. I am snug and dry, and deliriously happy.

The next day sees me back on the bike for a ride round the reservoir, taking in a few diversions on the way. The first of these diversions is to sit and ponder for a while in Costa in Oakham.. the other reason for the trip is to look at the next phase of my life. Lots of things are ending, and I am becoming freer to do different stuff.. so I am looking at what the reboot looks like. And more on that at another time.

I’m also collecting bolts, for my other hobby, geocaching. Some madman has hidden bolts around the reservoir perimeter with numbers stamped into them. Collect the numbers on the bolts, put them in the right sequence, and the co-ordinates should lead me to a hidden treasure trove. Following these hides around the water leads me to different spots that I would not have otherwise found, and I find myself cycling down a broad road in the middle of nowhere, where the silence seems almost absolute apart from the birds and the roar of tyres on gravel.

A few hours and 36km later, I’m back at the tent with a few more geocache hides collected. And all the bolt numbers. Unfortunately, the calculation yields a location 12km away. Somewhere, I have gone wrong. I decide one of the numbers is wrong, recalculate it and cycle off in search of the final location. In the end it turns out that the cache setter has got one bolt wrong, and I am rewarded with a box hidden in the trees and full of odds and ends for the junior cacher. I log my find and rehide it, feeling suitably smug to have not only solved the puzzle, but done that when the puzzle is incorrect. Go me!

No rain tonight, but I am rewarded with a clear sky, and a beautiful view of the stars. The light pollution is low around here, and the Milky Way arcs overhead. It seems as if I can see the constellations leaping out at me – the Great Bear, Cassiopeia, all seem vivid and real. And I marvel at this incredible infinity spread out in the night sky… I am both awed and humbled at the sight.

The next day, I awake to a beautiful clear sky. It’s time to break camp. The tent’s a bit soggy, so that’s going to end up adorning my living room to dry out. And the legs are starting to tire. Those hills are going to be painful on the way home. My spirits are lifted half way by a fallow deer that crosses my path. And the views across to the Harringworth viaduct always lift my spirits.

And a couple of hours and another 35km later, I and my rucksack are back home. Inspection of my tyres shows that the rubber is missing – 122km of riding has finally managed to cycle the rear tyre down to the kevlar lining. On the up side, unlike my rather traumatic outing last year, I have experienced zero punctures. This is probably down to the kevlar and puncture proof inner tubes rather than improved riding.

As ever, I feel deeply tranquil and at peace.. my state of Zen has been restored, and some of the thoughts I have had will, I am sure, soon blossom into options for my future.

I’d rest and take it easy, but in around 3 hours I will have to lay a dance floor….

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