Tomorrowland 2014 - Quite simply amazing...

The struggle for Tomorrowland tickets started 2 years ago...

The Key to Happiness

We had just started working for our new employer in the French Alps and were midway through the season. The only wifi we had was that of a neighbouring chalet and was only accessible if you sat, with your laptop, on the balcony... The balcony that gets to -25 C at night and can get pretty chilly around 5pm, especially when you've been sat in an online ticket queue for 3 hours.

Alas, that first years attempt yielded nothing but very cold typing fingers. So this years challenge was made a lot easier with the introduction of a nice 4g connection inside our chalet. A group of us wanted to go and we make a group chat to discuss the goings on of our respective applications.

A couple of hours passed and no one had even a sniff of being anywhere near purchasing some tickets, let alone the 12 or 14 tickets needed if everyone who had shown interest were to come. Until, the joker of the pack, Alex exclaimed "I'm in guys... no shit" and the group chat went absolutely nuts.

Alex had managed to get through to the ticket purchasing options. We all thought he would only be able to buy 4 tickets, and so waited patiently in queue hoping for another person to get in. Alex then plunged the mood in to a darky abyse as he proclaimed that he was unable to buy the 4 tickets as the single tickets had run out. He could order separate day tickets but not tickets for the whole weekend. Until, with the click of a mouse, he found the holy grail of ticket ordering options.... The Friendship Camping Tickets... A no holes barred weekend Madness ticket for not 1 person or 4 people... but 10 people!

A right palarva then ensued as Alex's touchpad mouse died, rendering his browser navigation down to tentative Tab presses trying not to close the page or navigate away from the holy grail. Matt dropped off a spare keyboard and Kerry and I were in a position to purchase all 10 at once... and... after an evening on tenderhooks, Alex posted a screengrab of the receipt that said we were now in possession of 10 Full Madness Tomorrwland Tickets ....   HALLELUJAH!

We had a few months to hype our selves up, the group chat didn't stop all summer. That gentle 'Ding!' from your phone just someone letting you know you're on your way to the best party on earth, until one Thursday morning and we were all heading to the Eurotunnel with destination Tomorrowland engraved in to our BRAINS! We drove in to Boom, Belgium, where Tomorrowland is held annually, with a few small detours and a questionably safe 6 lane traverse manouver that we prayed we would never have to do, especially after a 5 day Dance festival!

Heading in to the festival was an experience in itself. Before actually getting here we could only dream of what we may face. Piecing together ideas from Tomorrowland's infamous aftermovies on youtube. And it didn't disappoint. What we didn't realise was that our Friendship camping was essentially a sort of VIP camping. Each friendship group was given a gazebo adorned with fantastically coloured mushrooms and candy sticks and all things nice enclosed in a picket fenced section of the camping field. Even when we have been VIP at Global Gathering it hasn't been this good. Heck, even our entry tickets were electronic bracelets with a heart button on to connect you via Facebook with fellow ravers when you simultaneously press them. To be honest I was actually pretty blown away already... and the music hadn't even started yet!

Kerry with her new billed friend

The festival doesn't officially start until Friday at noon, however us lucky campers residing in Dreamville, the Tomorrowland campsite, for the weekend, were treated to The Gathering. A 40,000 strong rave up IN the campsite itself. The main stage from 2011 had been re-assembled in the middle of the campsite, just for one night... one Night! We'd all solemnly declared to stay off the giggle sauce (or atleast practice moderation) for the first night... to which I went headlong in the other direction! How can you not want to have fun in a place that gives you a champagne reception and the daily Tomorrowland newspaper to enjoy?!

Amazing Themeing

I was lulled awake the next day by the campsite DJ rolling some morning tunes, grabbing a very pleasant shower and making myself beautiful again. Not something I've done at a festival before. I usually just condemn myself to a weekend of grime... not Tomorrowland. Everything and everyone looked so beautiful. That was the stark difference between Tomorrowland and other festivals we'd been to. The themeing. Everywhere you look theres a Madhatter looking bloke or giant frog, trees have woollen jumpers so you can get up close and cuddle, lakes are transformed with jumping spouts of water and flame throwing lillypads. Imagine the feeling of crawling in to the dark muddy rabbit hole and emerging the otherside in Wonderland... well this was Tomorrowland. And there's a universe on the otherside of that rabbit hole!

It does feel like the whole Universe is here. Whilst English is widely spoken, we were definitely in the minority, making it a vastly different experience. I had a physical conversation with some one (not like that) I mean, neither of us could understand the other, except for our actions and body language. I think he wanted a drink, or a lollipop... or a woodwind musical instrument... any way he was nice.

Main Stage

One particularly moving sight was that of an Israeli and Palestinian flag being flown side-by-side, despite the recent resurgence in violent over the Gaza strip. Small things like that really moved me. It showed that deep down, no matter what colour, belief system, ideology or brightly coloured snapback you were wearing, we can all have a ruddy good party!

My favourite set of the weekend was on the Carl Cox stage, late at night when Nero played their set. The music at Tomorrowland, on the whole, wasn't what I was expecting, but Nero blew me away with tunes blaring at 5 bigillion megaWatts including some of the colaborations they've made with the London Symphonic Orchestra.

Throughout the long weekend we ambled between over 10 different, yet equally amazing stages. Each encompassing it's own genre of music. I'd say that the music was very much influenced by the EDM movement that's sweeping over from the States currently. No I don't meant that every act was classed as 'Electronic Dance Music' because... well it was! But using EDM in the context of this doublette build up, minimalistic drop Americana that has definitely grown more prominent this year. It's not that I don't like it. I can get my groove down to almost anything! But it's nice to find that stage where the music just clicks and your body kicks off.

There scale of the place is not to be underestimated. Its freaking huge! Set in a recreational area full of open pieces of water. All interconnected with little bridges and small islands with parties erupting out of. The 'Rave Cave' was pumping out bass like those questionable clubs with stalactites of human sweat clinging to the ceiling. One stage had a sort of birdcage-matchstick type construction going over the audience. There was a slope down one side and I can remember having a very surreal experience similar to Dr Gonzo's dismount from the carousel in Bazooko's circus.

The Piece de resistance of Tomorrowland is the mainstage. Every year the production team put in a huge effort to come up with the most bizarre, visually stimulating and wonderful scene. What I didn't realise from the youtube aftermovies is that the main stage is nestled in a massive natural amphitheatre with sides rising approximately 6 to 8 metres above the theatres floor. When full the main stage was a sight to behold in itself. I guess over 140,000 people congregated on the sloping banks and bouncing dance floor when at it's maximum capacity.

My friends made the weekend too. We had such a good set of people, some I'd known for 18 years and one I'd only just met at the Eurotunnel car park! As usual at a dance music festival, everyone looked out for one another, strangers catched you if you fell and peace and love was everywhere. Why can't life be a Festival?!

Le Mans 24 Heures 2014...

Well ... what a weekend...!

Everyone knows what the Le Mans 24 hour is...so I'm not going to reel off facts, figures and other easily obtainable snipbits of information here. Google it... This is an account of what I got up to.

My friends departed for the ferry early doors on Thursday, hoping to get there sometime in the afternoon.  I was let off work at 8pm, quickly jumping on my bike and hooning the 300 miles to Le Mans, and the campsite, like an expectant father to be who's just got the message 'it' is coming...

When I got to Le Mans around midnight the roads were grid locked. It took me 45 minutes just to navigate to our campsite, only trouble being I didn't know which colour sign our campsite had been designated. The majority of the 24 hour track is made up of normally public roads... roads that my new satnav app wanted me to take.

There was a particular road that looked a 50 meter jaunt to another road, but it was barricaded off with some 5 foot heras fencing except for a little gap that the workmen had just made, so I shot through and up to the end of the road. That's when I realised I was now sat smack bang in the middle of a huge race track straight. Parked up every 20 meters or so were flat bed trucks and mobile work lights illuminating a huge army of orange clad French dudes setting up armco barriers. One passing flat bed had an oompaloompa on the back just pointing at the barriered entry I'd just blatantly ridden through!

I eventually got to the roundabout with a drunken Ross standing on it waving his torch beam in every motorcyclists eyes. The campsite was just as much a dilemma, with Alex threatening to violently show me how many beers he'd drank earlier that day. So after a few cold ones myself we all retired by about 1:30am.

Alex, myself and Ross partying hard

After a late breakfast that morphed in to Lunch we headed to a small village on the outside of the track called Arnage, 2km down the road. It lends its name to a section of the track, and has some nice bars, restaurants and a notorious section of the high street known to host all manner of tomfoolery with fans and their cars. It was also convenient that there was a bar showing the Netherlands vs Spain game in the World Cup Competition. For some reason though the morning beers had been flowing too well and we ended up walking back to the campsite for a reason I can't remember. Getting hacked off with walking the same unpathed road some of us ended up hitchhiking with relative success.

The Dutch game was a belter by all accounts. Netherlands wooping their arch rivals Spain 5 - 1. I say by all accounts because I soon got a bit bored and instead took my beer outside to egg on the cars and bikes on the road outside the bar. It's such a mad environment to be in. There's motorheads everywhere and all they want to do is spin up their wheels or get their engines to hit the rev limiter, yet the police seem to tolerate it. Its brilliant!

After another, hop skip and a jump back to the campsite a few of us went out hunting for more tyre smoke, getting to the front entrance of the campsite and being met by a huge crowd of people all encouraging the passing cars to get those rear tyres spinning like a yoyo. We got fully involved and ended up pushing the older cars back and spraying water on to the roundabout road so they would lose traction. There was a diverse number of vehicles too, with sports cars, motorbikes, old bangers, mums out in their zafira's and one notable 7.5 tonne truck that I'm glad I didn't fall under when trying to hold it back.

It's not all about the cars... they just happen to be there!

This is all at around 11 or 12 o'clock at a vague guess. It was dark anyway. And then suddenly out came a red flare that lit up the crowd as everyone cheered and engines roared. I'd probably had waaaay too much to drink at this point and before I knew it I was stood in the middle of the road holding aforementioned flare aloft screaming "WHO ARE YA!" at the top of my voice, turning around and thrusting the flare up in the air. For some reason the entire crown seemed to instantly quiet, just leaving the mouthy Englishman screaming something at the top of his voice while waving a flare about. Phil later said they probably didn't know what to expect from me next. Until I casually put the flare back on the floor and walked back to where my mates were standing.

As with any crowd there was a few who wanted to spoil the fun. It was when glass bottles were broken on the makeshift burnout pad that we all collaboratively decided to leave. The cars that were entering the area had no idea there was glass underfoot and would then try and spin up their wheels to impress the crowd, presumably causing some damage and potentially 4 flat tyres. We couldn't take on everyone and get through to them they were spoiling the fun, so chose to abstain and leave.

Not that leaving was a particularly bad idea. We stumbled across a very noisey and lively party hosted by some German or Dutch blokes. There was a good gathering of about 40 - 50 people all mooching about and dancing to the music.

Saturday saw us all taking the tiny land train up to the start straight for a spot of hat shopping as everyone was getting burnt scalps. I woke up to a badly burnt hand from the previous nights shenanigans. Meeting the Michelin man was a pivotal point in my life. As with the French version of Asterix, I tried my best to explain that I couldn't speak French... in French. He didn't care anyway, he just wanted a cuddle.

We continued North a bit and decided to plot near a chicane for the start and followed the race quite religiously for about an hour and a half, listening intently on the radios to the commentary. There was even a little mention about the Dutch rave in the campsite! But as the afternoon wore on so did the consumption of beer and interest soon faded in the race and became more about going to the toilet every 5 minutes, chatting with people from various Scandinavian countries and relishing in the brief rain shower that cut through the otherwise sweltering weekend for 20 minutes.

I think all of us had a quick alcohol induced sleep around 3pm on one corner. Quite how I'll never know as over 50 unsilenced sports cars hooned round the track meters away from us. That evening we watched some live music on the stage and enjoyed England being thrashed 2 - 1 by some Italian people in the World Cup. Kick off wasn't until 12 at night and the temperature dropped dramatically leaving only me, Phil and Alex left standing at the end, wrapping the three of us in the foil lined rug I'd brought along.

Recovery beer at Indianapolis

Sunday was a bit of a nightmare logistically. The 6 of us were all struggling with life, as comes after a few days full of beer. Getting on the bus to one of the other corners of the 8 mile track seemed like our best bet. Getting on the bus was fraught with French favoritism that I've witnessed in the Alps before, so, when no one was looking, I popped the rear doors open and Ross and I lept in just before they closed abruptly behind us, shutting everyone else out.

When we got to the Indianapolis corner, Ross and I went in to the ticketed arena next to the track and waited for a while, cold beers in hand, to see if the others had made it on to the next bus. An hour went by and it became apparent that they weren't coming and we spent atleast 30 minutes waiting in bus queues, walking a bit, thumbing with no luck and ending up back in the bus queue for a 45 minute ride around the track's Western perimeter until we got off at the start straight.

Up at the start straight we had a walk around, checking out the jam packed stadium and eating some much needed food. The other chaps decided to stay down near the campsite so after watching the end of the race on a big monitor in the Nissan garage Ross and I made a leisurely stroll back.

After what appeared to have been an absolutely quality weekend we all decided that we'd splash out on a big meal together as a kind of closing ceremony... You know, a quite one.. ready for the drive home in the morning. Well.... I know we went back to Arnage, and I think I had some sort of sea food, but after that I have total and utter blankness except for a raging fire billowing out of our BBQ back at the tents as we burnt all of the remaining fuel.

I woke up the next morning in a dire condition. Packing away my tent so the others could take it back home before I rode the 300 miles South and back to Moto Camping Dordogne. I made it 2 miles out of the campsite before I had to sleep with my head on the kurb of a McDonalds car park for 2 hours, eat two big mac meals and ride for 5 hours cursing that 'quiet night' we'd just had.

Le Mans isn't just for car enthusiasts.... It's not for the faint hearted.... It's for anyone who enjoys having fun... And I'm going to have fun at this place for years to come!

Home, Hammock camping and parties...

After a relaxing week in Amsterdam it was time to touch down with reality...

There always seems to be a few administrative things to get done when I'm back in the UK. Whether that's to do with the property I let out, Self assessment tax, vehicle licensing, MOTs, Insurances etc etc, so it always takes a few days and a couple of books of stamps to get it all done. But once it's done I'm happy in the knowledge that we can drive, ride and crash whilst being on the right side of the law.

I say ride because I've got a new motorbike! A lovely Kawasaki Versys 650 with a Givi top box and scott oiler fitted. She's really nice to ride as you sit upright and feel like your 'inside' the bike rather than on top. Kerry gets on great riding pillion, especially as she has the top box behind her.

She came from a friend of my Dad's who only bought her last October to ride through the winter months before taking receipt of a brand new BMW GS1200 last month in March. Over that period he only put 700 miles so I was fairly confident taking her in for an MOT and she passed no problems.

We have some really good friends and it's always a pleasure to meet up. Whether for a good tasting home cooked meal, Jaunt down the pub, or, my favourite, we all meet up for a big buffet style Indian dinner.

Ross wined and dined us one evening with a Jamie Oliver 15 minute meal... quite an impressive Chicken Laksa which is a type of mildly spicy noodle soup with lots of coriander and a nicely marinated piece of grilled chicken. I enjoyed it so much I attempted to cook it over at a different friends house, Claire, but I've got to say that Ross's was better! It's quite nice to not be cooking every day! Even though I have been keeping my culinary skills in check and cooking for my Mum and Dad.

Ross's Chicken Laksa

The van came out of storage ok once I'd charged the battery up. For some reason the solar panel had developed a fault with the controller and stopped charging them, however after a 5 minute reset all was good and it started to pump power in to them. I was a bit concerned for her over the winter. All we heard whilst we were in the Alps was of the torrential rain and howling winds that seemed to last 3 months constant. But the field where she was parked had good drainage and non of the nearby trees came down on her.

It took Kerry and I a whole day to sort all of our stuff out and remove it from the van. We threw a lot away, which is a great achievement seeing as everything we owned fit in to a motorhome! But we've slimmed down even more on stuff we didn't think we'd use again. The hoover came out and the inside cleaned from top to bottom, then I had to fun task of washing the outside of such a big vehicle, climbing on the roof and everywhere. All of this was so that she could go up on ebay and be sold. She's a good van and done us proud through 4000 miles of European roads, even if we did have to stop for a bit whilst she was repaired. Mind you stopping in the South of France isn't exactly a tough job!

Within a couple of days of the ebay listing being active I'd had 3 phone calls, one from a very interested guy who was due to get the train from Cardiff the following weekend. Well... If someone is prepared to get the train to come and view the van, I don't expect they would want to get the train home again! So I was confident that there was a sale in the near future. Nevertheless I had a viewing with pleasant couple from Brighton midweek. They were very interested and offered good money should she pass an MOT that they would pay for.

So we got her booked in for the Thursday and unfortunately she failed... Leaking fuel from the return hose on the injectors. The guy buying it said it shouldn't be much of a problem, but wanted to drive to his house to have a closer look. On the drive back we were chatting and he suddenly said "Aww heck, I don't need to have a look, Let's just go inside and we can transfer the money over now". And with that Mildred was sold. The metal's gone but the memories remain.

So now it was time to earn some money... And it was convenient that my Dad needed some work on his house. Throughout the very wet winter he had water pouring in through every wall. The mortar between the bricks was not up to scratch and the entire house had to be re-pointed. Basically my job was to spend hour after hour grinding the old pug out with a 4 inch grinding disk, then knock up a gauge of new gear ready to be squirted in. Sometimes it was mind numbing work, but after a few weeks we had finished and I was no longer pulling dust out of every orifice.

I also got back from the Alps to a lovely Christmas Present from my Mum. A DD Travel Hammock, a sort of camping hammock that can be used either as a bivi on the ground or strung up in the trees as a hammock.

I chatted with a guest in the French Alps about camping and it transpired that we both watched the same bushcrafting people on youtube... Mike got in contact when he knew I was home and we setup a little excursion to test out my new hammock. Mike is a tree surgeon during the day and so was in the best profession to teach me some useful knots and, having his own camping hammock, was a useful guide when it came to setting up the hammock and sleeping in it for the first time.

To say I had the best nights sleep I've ever had camping would be an understatement. When you get in the hammock it is like getting a big hug from all sides. Lying in the hammock diagonally means you sleep flat instead of the banana shape you expect. We stayed for two nights, cooking on an open fire, whittling sticks in to eating implements (partly because I forget anything to eat with!) and generally catching up, wilderness style. I learnt a lot and I have Mike to thank for that. Hopefully we can get some more nights under the stars this summer.


So my Dads house was now ready just in time to throw a big party. We spent a few days getting the garden and house ready, battling some 70 mph gusts of wind that resulted in one severely broken gazebo and 3 others tied down using every piece of rope available. He brought in 3 barrels of beer from the brewery he is a syndicate member of as well as a fish and chip wagon turning up later in the evening.

It was a brilliant night, meeting some of his old friends for the first time, catching up with his friends I knew, telling stories by the camp fire and finishing up in bed at about 3am! As parties go (and for an old boy) he sure does know how to throw em.

One day to recover from the hangover, then a little 650 mile jaunt down to the Dordogne region of France... To work on that campsite... Yeah... the one with sun, swimming pool and hangovers!

My First Venture in to Bicycle Touring/Camping

Bicycles have always been a great interest. They can give anyone freedom of travel at a more respectable pace than walking, and with some simple knowledge, can be kept on the road for very little money.

Aesthetically I think the bicycle, in all its many varieties, is a work of art.

My only regret is that I don't ride my bike enough! So in a conscious effort to reverse the tide of lets-jump-in-the-car mentality I've got so used to, I decided to head off out for a couple of days cycling and would have to carry everything I needed.

Blue line outward journey, Red line back

 I wanted a route that was somewhat familiar but with a sense of entering the unknown. So I decided to head out of Horsham towards Crawley but to keep going East towards Turners Hill and East Grinstead. I've never explored this part of the world except for fleeting visits when I was much younger.

I announced my plans, quite triumphantly, on a Wednesday. I wasn't to leave for a few days but felt I needed to tell someone! (And also to gain their opinions!) I always find it funny when I propose a 'ridiculous' idea to people and enjoy their 'can't do' attitudes. It makes it all the more important to do it!

With surprise Kerry's dad showed great interest. "When are you going? Who you going with? How long for?" all flew from his mouth, half-Geordie-half-Mackem accents clashing to make, sometimes, no sense to a Southern Fairy like me. The questions made sense though, not only aurally but semantically too. He was weighing up whether he was able to come! Mike isn't one to turn down a good adventure!

I knew then that I had a companion! And one I was grateful for. I should think the hardest part of a lone cycle camp would be just that, being alone. So I welcomed Mike's company and we frantically readied the bikes for departure the following Saturday.

Disaster struck in the early hours of Saturday morning. I woke to a massive pain in my face. Its difficult to describe but that's the best I can do. A pain IN my FACE. I couldn't get rid of it, I couldn't allieveiate it at all. Just a dull, numbing pain behind my cheek bone but enough to keep me awake for hours on end. I text Mike to tell him I couldn't cycle. I had slept all of 4 hours during the night. I was gutted. I drifted off to sleep at about 7am, disappointed.

But I was determined to get out cycling. I knew Mike would be feeling as gutted as I was and didn't want to let him down. I was up again at 10am and rang Mike to ask if he could still make it. He could! and we arranged to meet at half past 10. Thirty minutes to get ready. Easy, the bike was already packed, all I needed was to get dressed!

Mike out on the road

All set I hurriedly cycled to meet Mike, we arrived at the rendezvous at the same time, handy! We already knew our biggest issue. Rusper hill. Whilst not in any way big, the hill is quite steep at one section. The bikes felt good. It was the first time I had ridden with it fully laden and I couldn't tell there was any weight on the back. Until I hit the hill that is! I had to get off straight away. I struggle without any panniers but with this weight any incline felt like a tug of war match with a stern bull.

Once we had made it up everything seemed plain sailing. The first 5 miles were all very familiar territory. I ride this route to work sometimes so know exactly where I will need to push harder or where I can afford to relax a bit. It was a pleasant ride, the sun shone gloriously through the trees and we were soon in Ifield where we had decided to stop and grab some lunch from a shop.

Two 'meal-in-a-can's' and a few bread rolls strapped to the back and we were off again. We would traverse Crawley and stop just outside town in some woods to cook up the cans and generally chill. We found a nice green just off the road and I could try out my new stove.

The 'White Box Stove' is a nice little aluminium meths burning stove that ... comes in a white box! It is awesome. It's amazing how such a little amount of meths in such a tiny stove can produce good, sustained heat for 10 minutes, easily heating our food which we ate dipping bread rolls.

Stomachs full and the pace slowed. I was certainly feeling pretty tired at this point so the sight of a pub a few miles down the road was welcomed! Pint in hand and sun on face I thought about how I could easily get used to this! Then when I stood up my legs reminded me its not all rosy! The last miles were difficult. We hit Turners Hill which is not to be estimated. The 16 cans of lager we bought then hampered our ascents even more. We needed to find somewhere to camp.

I'd set my heart on camping next to Weirwood Reservoir, a view across the water and a decent camp fire. A few dead ends later and we found that it was impossible to get to the water edge. Tired and weary we settled for a nice bluebell wood. A small copse of mainly birch trees just next to the road. Just what we needed after cycling 24 miles.

The tent was set up with ease and we settles down to building the camp fire. It turns out Mike has some sort of compulsion to find any piece of wood and put it in the fire. So I was left to sit back and enjoy the countryside.

The cycle had really tired me out. It was very hard, alot harder than I had thought it would be, but sitting back against a tree watching the fire made it all better. And it was keeping the midges away! I cooked up a nice 'Curry-in-a-can' meal with one piece of chicken in no bigger than my little finger nail. I'd regard that meal as more a curry flavoured soup!

The beers went down very easily, and soon the light was fading (as was I) to the point where we had to retire to our sleeping bags. It was fairly cold through the night and we both had to get up for the toilet, cursing at how cold it was outside!
I woke up at about 06:00 and successfully managed to get the fire re-lit from the embers. The orange flames were perfect for warming my socks. Mike slept slightly longer, however I think this was to make up for what sleep he hadn't got through the night.

We were both knackered, even putting the tent away was a struggle and packing everything back on to the bikes took real time and energy. We were in no rush to get back on the saddle. I had a suspicion that the first few miles would all be up hill which made it even worse. I kept these dark thoughts to myself!

Lo and behold! we hit hills as soon as we left the reservoir. Big ones that seemed to go on and on. Cycling up them with a very tired and aching bottom wasn't fun. Each corner just gave way to another long incline. We'd only eaten a bread roll each. toasted on the fire that morning, and it was very hard to muster any energy. This is why I've never been so pleased to see a Costcutter shop in my life. I grabbed meat pasties and bottles of water which we wolfed down quickly and we soon felt a bit better and ready for the journey home.

After walking the bikes up Turners Hill for the second time in two days we decided to take a more direct route home. And we were so pleased we did! We seemed to roll on and on through the countryside, not a hill in sight except for the gradual descent we were on. Mike shouted in delight "Now THIS is more like it!"
The journey seemed to take less time and we stopped just short of Horsham to have a quick pint in The Dragon at Colgate. It wasn't even midday yet and we were only a few miles from home!

I could tell the mix of cycling and a restless night had taken its toll on Mike. I too was tired but had atleast done some cycling the weeks before hand. That and I'm half Mikes age!

Whilst supping our beers and admiring a large group of old MG cars growl past I spotted this little hitchhiker! He must be from Weirwood reservoir and had made it all the way to Colgate with me! A quick 10 minute blast and we were in Horsham. I bid Mike farewell and headed to the local shop to load my panniers up with wine. I needed it after all that cycling! 20 miles back, a shorter distance home which was appreciated.