The last few days can best be described as “repositioning” day. After the marathon bus ride to Düsseldorf, it was a relative quick cycle west. But relative is a relative term. While only 35 kilometres, the effects of a very long 36 hours converted the kilometres to miles and minutes to hours. Then, theoretically refreshed after sleeping in a bed, I decided to do 140 kilometres that day so I would have a mere 80 to catch the ferry to England the next day. After all, it was mostly flat terrain and the winds didn’t look to be strong.
It seems that on every bike trip there is one day when I over estimate my reserves and capability. This day was it. It started out okay, even leisurely with an enjoyable ferry ride across one of the many rivers in Holland. But then the heat, once again in the low 30s, started to sap any energy. Then I needed to put on some considerable effort and speed if I was to get the next ferry crossing before it closed for the night. I made the crossing just, only to discover the ferry actually closed 1 hour later. Finally I found a hotel. It was a chain motel sandwiched between a McDonalds and the Motorway that had all the faded finesse of the 1970s. I don’t remember much about the day other than tiredness and pain and this little memorial to a shot down WWII Lancaster Bomber. Only 1 survivor.
The next morning didn’t start with a bright cheerful sunny look. It had a adopted a foggy, cold look tastefully accessorised with rain. The temptation to get a train the rest of the way was great, but then I’d just have to wait longer for the ferry. So I cycled along, not singing in the rain, although I did splash a lot. Once the rain stopped I was able to brew a good strong cup of tea and everything was once again right with the world for a while. My body hadn’t adapted to the sudden cool weather.
Anyway, now I’m waiting for the ferry, lined up with lots of vans, cars etc so I can get on board, recover and sleep.