I'm having trouble remembering as far back as this time yesterday, because my brain is seriously fried from a spectacularly awful morning. But give me a moment, and I will try...
Ah yes. It was mostly fine heading out after lunch, although stage 4/6 was super hilly - 515ft of elevation difference overall and it just kept going up and down and up and down and then there was a HUUUUGE uphill where I looked at it and went D: and then whacked the power up to full and let Florence deal with it. #cheating
My favourite thing about Birmingham was the roving packs of Canada geese hanging out on the (superbly maintained) towpaths. They did not budge an inch to get out of my way, but they all turned their heads and hissed at me as I carefully wove between them, all too aware that my ankles were in easy pecking distance.
I had a lovely time with my first couchsurfing host, who made me dinner and offered me a bubble bath and didn't mind at all when I fell into bed at 9pm. Winning.
Today was grey and wet to begin with, but the good news was, even though I was facing an elevation difference of 450ft, I was already at the top end and almost everything would be downhill and flat. I was looking forward to a long but relatively easy morning. Ha. Hahahaha.
It was largely rural canal towpaths, so yeah, it was flat alright. Flat and wet and muddy and bumpy, with a clear and present danger of me skidding right into the canal if I didn't go slowly and carefully the whole way. I had to do about half my usual speed. There was more than ten miles of it. And just as I came off to go through Lichfield on the roads, Florence's control panel blanked out and her motor died away. That was fifteen miles ago and I've had to keep getting off and resetting the battery every mile or so since then.
After Lichfield it was back on another rural towpath again, and another wet muddy stripe to traverse. I had to stop and scrape out the mudguards and clean off the chain because I could feel the extra drag it was all creating on the back wheel. There was a glorious couple of miles where the canal ran parallel to the A38, so I rode up the inexplicable pavement on the edge of the dual carriageway instead, but then they parted ways and I had to get back on the towpath. It very quickly narrowed to a squelchy ribbon through the grass, and googlemaps chirped continue for four and a half miles from my pocket, and I stopped and stared and then bellowed "FUCK THIS" at the universe in general. I turned Florence around, and found a longer and hillier route by road for the rest of my journey to Burton.
If I have to look at one more mud stripe towpath ever again in my life, I think I am gong to start screaming, and maybe I will just never stop. They are without a doubt the single WORST recommendation Google has ever given me.
I'm supposed to be on another towpath out of Burton when I head out again, but to hell with that; I've already plotted a new route by road. It will be a mile longer and more hilly, but it will probably still be faster, and it will definitely be less stressful. I've resigned myself to not reaching Nottingham until nine o' clock at best; I can't skimp on Florence's charging time so I'm stuck here til five.
I already feel as exhausted as I did in the last ten miles of yesterday, and I still have another thirty to go.
I think I'm going to sleep well tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment