LEJOG - The hills are alive with the sound of...

The Mucky Duck was a down in the doldrums pub.  Everything was jaded including the regulars. Our room though was in good nick. There I was, jammed in a faux leather seat with my laptop on a chair. The bathroom door was wide open giving plenty of light into the room.  Kathryn as usual was busy about the place firstly closing the curtains early as she does back home shutting out the daylight then turned off the room light.  She then frogged off into the bathroom, closed the door and left me in pitch blackness.  What the ffff!  Oi!

Sadly, my high carbo fuel diet has turned my bum into a small wind farm.  Kathryn will vouch for that being that the duvet did not touch her all night.  I'm expecting to get the wind turbine installation guide any day now.

We were woken some time just after midnight to the sound a local repeatedly throwing up in the street with a police dog barking encouragement at him.  Great place Wayne.  At about 6.30 I woke feeling quite refreshed and had the biggest finger tip to toe stretch in bed.  If I had cramped just at that moment I'm sure London Alan would have been happy to take me to Fistral beach to surf on.  Luckily no cramps.  Good.  I went to the toilet 3 times with the now deflated balloon dog, not in that over 50's prostrate problemy way, and thought hey that's good.  I'm not dehydrated.  Audrey II was busy chucking the now demolished brick wall out the back door - might have been corn thinking about it...  Here's a photo of me rebuilding the bike after it's night chained to the hotel's bins...

Kathryn had a date with her string bag bi-plane and a desire to see the most expensive Cornish town (Padstow) before going home.  Thanks for the non support hun!  She was becoming more agitated at the likelihood of mozzies now that the weather had improved so left me with a small tube of DDT (?) and a warning to be careful with it as overuse might cause my bits to drop off...

I set off along the Camel Trail.  Not a dromedary in sight.  A nice couple passed me with a polite 'hello'.  Simply, I was taking it steady trying not to wake the twins.  Well that's my excuse.  My crap nav had been set to take me to Bude on Sustrans Route 32 which included the Camel Trail but for some reason it had me take a hard left onto a back road which shot off vertically up the side of a Cornish mountain.  Jeez!  I thought the road out of Mousehole was steep! The Sun tore at my back. Gasp! Somewhere on the climb I dropped a lung but was damned if I'd go back for it.  Whilst retching for breath I copped a big mouthful of cow poo vapours from a giant muck inhaler on the back of a passing tractor.  Mmmm nutty.  I made it to the top without stopping.

The trail took me onto a local A road.  Steep fast descents, slow uphill crawls.  Buses, trucks, cars, vans all scraped past me.  I passed a place called Menkee Barn, I imagined full of children running around dressed, Clouseau style, in long grey coats wearing trilby hats and fake moustaches, going ape.   Ma Boy by now was awake but had decided to stay in bed picking at the walls with what felt like a blunt instrument.  God knows where Our Lass was.  Perhaps she hadn't returned home from her Padstow big hairy rich girls night out last night?

I turned off down another high sided lane which took me down a valley to a cafe for lunch.  I'd been sat masticating for about 15 minutes when the couple who passed me earlier on the trail suddenly appeared.  Turns out the cafe is at the start of the Camel Trail.  Its probably a couple of miles or so longer and a couple of hundred foot flatter on the trail compared to my now missing lung and cow poo detour.  Twas great to meet them (again) and I guess they probably thought - how the hell did he do that?!   Tony and Gwen were from Queensland Australia on a long visit to the UK and Europe.  Both enjoy cycling and sailing and are live-aboards on a 46ft catamaran back home.  Bikes on the back of a boat?  Oh how I wish.  Lovely couple, lovely to chat!

Then it's up up up another hill onto the top of Bodmin Moor.  Another cyclist, Peter, also on his way to JOG says 'hi' and we cycle together chatting away comparing bum cream notes for a good hour across the top of the Moor before our routes differ.  Great to meet another LEJOG'er and perhaps we'll meet again further up?

The run down into Bude wasn't only down.  It's a huge steep rollercoaster ride but without the cars.  Legs felt tired but were still going strong.  As I went low and slow on another backwater track it seemed like time itself had suddenly stopped.  All sound drained away as though the volume knob on the planet had been turned down.  Not a sound.  No birds, no bees, no wind, even the bike tires had stopped complaining.  It was Eden like with beautiful flowers and ferns growing out of the roadside swaddled with angel like white butterflies who joined me momentarily on the ride.  I cried.

I finally found the hotel in Bude.  It's a good one.

I'm currently sat in an ice cold bath.  My deflated balloon dog has run away and hidden somewhere.  I'm sucking on an electrolytic dummy hoping that my legs come back to me before tomorrow...

Nite...