If D Day is the day I start my odyssey than today is B day. However the day before A day saw some serious hardcore testing of tents, mattresses and cyclist. If any makers of mountain/cycling/expedition equipment are reading this you should forget giving your products out for free to various so called adventure types. If you want your products fully tested I have a gang of three to five year olds who can tell you in under ten minutes if your stuff is up to the job. I can now inform Quechua that their Ultralight Pro 2 tent will be absolutely fine up a small mountain , in a banana field with clumpy ground , go below zero degrees in the middle of a British winter and survive many miles strapped on the back of bicycle. It does not however last more than five minutes when housing an impromptu disco for Rio, Beni, India and Theo. So three days before the off I had to make a journey to a Decathlon store to get some replacement tent poles. Not a problem as I could combine it with a ride to see Maddy's brother's family and also to visit Thomas Stevens' grave. A beautiful sunny day it turned out to be too, unfortunately although Wikipedia tells me that Mr S is buried in East Finchley Cemetery, I wasn't prepared for quite how many graves I would have to look through. After about half an hour of searching Maddy came to find me to let me know she had found him. On closer inspection it appeared only to be his name sake and not the global cyclist/adventurer/theatre manager that my quest revolves around. Another half an hour was given over to searching but squid ink risotto was calling from N1 so we had to leave. I had intended to leave a small something with him whilst on my journey but this will have to wait till I hear back from the council as to where his plot is located.
R.I.P. Thomas.
En-route to Maddy's brothers we passed Hops n Pops off licence on Archway. I always stop in here when I'm passing and pick up any world beers they might have that I've not tried before. After a few of these at dinner it dawned on me that I had forgotten to get the tent poles. Oh well, any one for a German sausage beer? It's not actually made from sausages but it does taste very smokey, has to be tried to be believed.
Sunday arrives and I still have a broken tent pole to replace. We decide to combine the journey to the store in Reading instead of London and take the bikes on the roof rack and then go for ride somewhere near the Thames. We find a great spot at Aston and have lunch here by the river and then cycle down the Thames Path for some supplies in Henley and then cycle back for more food and amazingly some more world beers I discover in the Henley Wine Rack of all places. I'm thoroughly enjoying a Pacifico Clara as I write this. Very nice on a hot day, much what you would expect from a 4.5% Mexican cerveza. Definitely one to serve chilled. The planned 40 mile ride has actually just tipped the scales at a feeble seven miles but swimming in the river and eating freshly cooked sausages by the Thames has taken precedent today. At least I remembered the tent poles.
R.I.P. Thomas.
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| From Drop Box |
Sunday arrives and I still have a broken tent pole to replace. We decide to combine the journey to the store in Reading instead of London and take the bikes on the roof rack and then go for ride somewhere near the Thames. We find a great spot at Aston and have lunch here by the river and then cycle down the Thames Path for some supplies in Henley and then cycle back for more food and amazingly some more world beers I discover in the Henley Wine Rack of all places. I'm thoroughly enjoying a Pacifico Clara as I write this. Very nice on a hot day, much what you would expect from a 4.5% Mexican cerveza. Definitely one to serve chilled. The planned 40 mile ride has actually just tipped the scales at a feeble seven miles but swimming in the river and eating freshly cooked sausages by the Thames has taken precedent today. At least I remembered the tent poles.
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