the second of June
Highest speed yet, of 81.3 kmph down a hill before breakfast. Stuff my shirt pockets with fresh picked cherries, so that it looks like my chest bleeds. Eat porrige for tow and loos my way. I cycle on through a gorgeous canyon. A naked lunch, swim in the Rio Ebro, then bathing on the warm rocks. Wash clothes in a small pool, and hang them to dry from the back of my load. Struggle 1000km high, and loose a clean pair of undies on the subsequent downhill. Wide open altiplano of wind farms and deserted towns. Hours between the sight of people. I have found my own route, almost empty of cars, that takes me in the right direction. Its my road.
Fat fluttering moths around my hilltop tent near Nuez des Ariba, pitched on hard grass that survives all weather. Its like a bed of needles. Litres of water, and little less wine. The wunsets on a happy peter who has the best view, of cliffs and wind turbines, and is a little closer to Caroline.
