Hill beneath your wheel
There is nothing, and I mean nothing, like feeling the wind play across your face, watch clouds billow through, gaze at the silver glisten of ocean and feel hill beneath your wheel. Devon twinkled to the South. A frozen glaze frosted the Brecon Beacons to the North. A blackbird’s fluting call accompanies the view. I feel the blood pumping around my system, hear the thud, thud in the eardrum. I sit perched on the 29er, sole and temporary king of the hill. The Woods plunge in the middle distance, roots exposed, soft earth revealing rock obstacles. A reward for all this endeavour.
It feels like weeks, months, years since I last rode here. It’s not of course. I’m sure that this bike has seen action on this hill since Santa blazed across our skies. But weeks of persistent monsoon have dampened the circuit boards and played havoc with memory. In 1 hours time, I’ll be coaching the kids session in woods that lie 3 miles South East. But right here, right now, this hill, this ride, this view, is all mine.
Loved every moment of Saturday’s ride.