No mobile signal.
I’m going to savour those words for a moment.
No. Mobile. Signal.
Even for those longer in the tooth (like me), it feels odd. Initially at least.
The world has become an endless torrent of bleeps and pings and flashing things.
But noise pollution was replaced with bird song, water droplets, the wind dancing through trees, crackling camp fires and the sound of kids running, jumping, paddling, splashing, cycling.
The way forward might be the way back. Rides without the bleeps, pings and flashing things. KOM segments in the mind alone. Destinations of mystery. Reliance on oneself.
Do for your ears, what cycling does for your body.
Set. You. Free.
Not since surf weekends in the mid-90s do I remember not being accompanied by some form of reliance on the phone. They have their place of course. But that place doesn’t extend to the banks of the River Hay, Herefordshire; an unexpected blessing.