Rather not be anywhere else…

29er trail

The sun is beating down relentlessly. Park those fears of an early summer. Dust off your short sleeve cycle jersey. Pack away the arm warmers. Ditch the ¾ lengths. Reach for your weapon of choice. For the moment, mine is my 29er. Big wheels, big bars, big fun seeking out those trails that roll and pitch like a dinghy on a blustery Bristol Channel.  When the trails are this dry, this accessible and whispering sweet nothings on a refreshing breeze, I’d rather not be anywhere else….

Bute park 1

…Those were last night’s thoughts. Then I walked my daughter to school this morning; she scooted, I pushed my singlespeed. We sliced through Whitchurch park, chatted and enjoyed the early morning sun. I dropped her off, entered traffic briefly and joined the Taff trail. A long line of cyclists snaked fore and aft. Half a mile East of the trail, the main northerly conduit to the city centre was traffic choked. There’d been an accident. Or road works. Or perhaps both. A colleague took 25 minutes to drive less than a mile. You can imagine the frustration. Yet my wheels span without distraction or hindrance  the freewheel. clack-clacking and accompanying birdsong. On a gorgeous morning  in Bute Park, I’d rather not be anywhere else.

…But then this evening…..

With thanks to Julian for a first rate mtb ride on Monday evening.

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