One challenge at a time

 Having the right kit makes all the difference to an adventure. Sometimes it will save your life Sometimes it makes things easier Sometimes it adds comfort Bad kit can turn a nice little jaunt into a miserable outing and a challenge into a dangerous situation... no exaggeration.  So I thought I would do a quick blog about some of the kit that I took with me this time, having made some upgrades and spent a lot of money.  Back when I thought I was going to Iceland (that was plan b) I knew I needed better kit or in some cases, new kit having worn out the old kit. The first part of this blog will deal with the items that I wear.  To start with, I needed a new pair of shoes...  Easier said than done. The trekking/hiking shoe/boot market is massive with so many different brands, all claiming that their shoes re the best around. Given that I would be cycling, I needed a lightweight shoe or boot that would be tough enough for hike a bike, which I was sure there was goin...

 The last 2 days have been a blur of ruins and ancient history. The first day in Rome... and I left it for the shadow of a volcano and  one of the unfortunate towns caught in the destruction that comes from a volcano errupting. The train ride took a long time because I had caught the cheapest train but actually it was nice to watch the rolling countryside. A glimpse of an aqueduct stretching to the south of Rome was also fascinating. Eventually the train rolled up to Ercolano and I got out... a 15 minute walk to the gates of the acient city of Herculaneum and I was sweating, because despite the thunderstorm thebtrain had passed through on the way... it was once again pretty hot.  Ercolano itself is a bedraggled town by the sea, many of the buildings and the inhabitants loom worn and tired and old... It had an air of being forgotten and even in Covid times, there were strangely few people about. I slipped down sidestreets that made me think of the stories of the riots in a...

 I woke up feeling a little sad... today I would be leaving the peace and quiet of the mountains and returning to the noise and chaos of the big city. A bonus of Covid is that it is certainly quieter than it would have been at this time of year in Rome but still the fresh air and tranquility of the mountains would be well behind me. I did grin though when I realised that it was pretty much all downhill to Sulmona and there was nothing the cycling Gods could do in payback... at least for now.... they do have long memories I have discovered. Packing up my tent and sleeping kit onto the bike was easy, the manoeuvres perfected... each piece. of kit, its own little place. The bike, holding firm against all the weight looked good loaded up. A gentleman came over and asked to have a look at the bike, normally something I welcome... but he seemed preocupied with the amount of oil on my chain... very little as I had 12 miles of downhill to go and then it was going back in its box ready for ...

 Today I felt the sunrise... poking over the tops of the mountains as if creeping into the new day...  I felt the morning dew spatter droplets as I peered out of my space in this valley...  I breathed in the scent of pine, enhanced by the wet morning air...  I wandered down lanes, through woods and into the town, feeling the rays of the sun hit my face and the sound of the birds announce my arrival... I heard the rustle of leaves and caught the lizard out of the corner of my eye.. too fast to really see...  I sat amidst the trees and the pine cones feeling the world turn slowly...  I sat and watched the sun slide back over the mountain tops, lingering a little as if to say goodbye...  I felt the night breeze, cool on my skin  I breathed in  ...  I breathed out ...

 I awoke, refreshed, having heard no stags overnight and with a dry tent waiting to be packed up again. I took my time getting ready, nit completely sure what the day would hold. A plan had been formed for the next few days... basically today I would cycle to the campsite recommended by Arjan and Tamara... According to both them and my maps, it looked like there would be a bit of climbing to do but given that I expected the first half of the day to be one glorious downhill, I thought it would be fine. I set off, sun out as usual and waved goodbye to the peaceful lake in the mountains. I started to wend my way downhill. The scenery I descended through was a beautiful gorge with the sound of the river audible from up high. The road swept round hairpins and over tight bridges with some spaces fairly narrow... but there were hardly any cars in this place so I often had the road totally to myself. I grinned as I swooped downwards.... the cycling gods will have their payback for this I t...

 A slightly quieter night from the stag point of view though the owl did his best to take his place. I awoke to the sound of hooves and then the stag once again started up... I opened the tent flap to see the stag right outside my tent and a herd of horses grazing contentedly. Of course, it attendance with stag were the hoarde of photographers in their camo outfits, literally following the poor thing round. It was quite funny to watch to be honest... I mean I took a few photos, but they literally spent dawn to dusk running around after him! No wonder he seemed pissed off all the time. Anyway, once again I dried off my tent and packed it away, neatly stowing all the kit in the bags and then attaching them to my bike. I feel like I have the packing down nicely now and the msr tent is an easy one to put up and down. The gentleman from Holland, Arjan came over to say cheerio... him and his partner, Tamara had given me a possible destination for the next few days... they had recommended...