The green, green grass of home

Almost every day since pulling my new BMW apart a deluge has descended from an otherwise clear blue sky. it hasn't been like this constantly, a number of days the clouds themselves have descended, obscuring any view of anything. And so I sit staring impatiently through my kitchen window, muttering quiet obscenities about the awful weather. My bike sits under wraps, we both wait, with bated breath, for a break in the weather. There are only ten days left before my planned departure, and not a single aspect of my planning has been completed. Talk about cutting it fine, this is getting a little too close for comfort.

The list of things yet to do are being ticked off slowly, too slowly, many distractions scream for immediate attention. A foul day's weather allows time to devote my book, it is in its final edit by me. Soon, not soon enough for me, it can go to the proofreader. Yet as the torrent of rain slams against the window pane I can't sit still. I know discipline is called for, I should apply myself to the task in hand. But I can't sit still, it takes all my willpower not to bounce off the walls. Faced with such boundless restlessness I had to get out, I wasn't going to hide indoors, it was the perfect time to test my combination of waterproofs. Would they keep out the rain or were there any irritating leaks? I'll ride all day in the rain, as long as I remain dry. I don't even mind getting wet hands too much, it's almost impossible to keep them dry, only when becoming wet and cold does it prove unbearable. Wet and cold feet are miserable too, in fact wet and cold are miserable, whatever you're doing. Even SCUBA diving is hard to enjoy once you're cold. So I made the most of a perfect opportunity and had a ball in the bargain.

Vicious weather had hurled itself at the cottage all afternoon, it was relentless. It could be said a moment of insanity came upon me, I'd prefer to call it inspiration. Howling winds raged across open space, swirling hectically round rock and through trees, chopping and changing in force and direction it proved completely unpredictable. Where it would come from next was pure guesswork, there was no chance to prepare, each fresh gust could buffet us any which way. Riding open, straight roads with heavy winds is relatively easy assess, gusty or no, it generally comes from a predictable direction at least. Leaning the bike into the wind keeps it in a straight line, being buffeted by gusts makes it a bit more exciting, but it's all part of the fun in riding. A windy road amongst broken landscape produces a turbulent maelstrom, pushing you first one way then another, lifting you across the road, then slamming you down at the tarmac. Having to negotiate bends means changing your profile to the wind, made worse by the violent, unpredictable outbursts. In this latter case, the bike must maintain the ability to steer accurately round the bends, it calls for different tactics. Rather than leaning the bike into the wind, I find myself hanging off the bike, keeping it upright while using my body as a windbreak. There is always an optimum speed, too low and you become the wind's plaything, pushed whichever way it desires. Too fast and stability becomes decidedly dicey, yet you must maintain enough speed to slice through the wind, a precarious balance must be found. Any change in direction or strength of the wind can easily blow you clean across the road. All in all, this wild and unpredictable experience holds enormous potential for top class grin factor. A bit of caution must be used, though driving hard into the wind is the way to make progress, getting the angle of lean right in such adverse conditions is precarious to say the least. In all fairness I haven't had so much fun on a bike in a long time. Many a month has passed since riding has had me hollering and whooping with joy.