Mountains. Forestry. Leaden skies.

Machen mast 2 (1 of 1)

Mountains. Forestry. Leaden skies.

I set out to beat the foreboding skyline, to dodge the curtain of rain.

Climbing first through forest and along ridgeway.

I rode through trees packed so tightly together that I never saw the branch that whipped my face and bloodied my nose.

A Honey Buzzard, spooked, beat powerful wings and blurred amongst the trees.

The mountain rises above, silent and waiting.

I force the path, stamp the pedals.

Gorse knifes my skin, brambles wrapped around crank arms. The forest pulls visitors back.

I shoulder the bike and escape at the gate.

The mast signals more; the roof of the valleys.

Top of Machen (1 of 1)

Machen mountain, Saturday morning: My cross bike, a tribute to Julie and skies so heavy it hurts. Can’t beat three peaks training. 

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