Flooded fields

Sunday. Last day of being a free spirit before return to the daily grind.  It rained, all day, again.  Bucketed it down.  Thrashed it down.  Poured it down.  Tropical style, without the warmth.  I hid in the gym, pretending my legs weren't all that sore whilst avoiding the squat cage like the plague.


Then, at 3, the skies calmed and, for the briefest of times the sun came out.  A steady, slow turn of the pedals, to loosen the legs and make the very most of the last evening of the holiday.  It was one of those rides where you think, "well, if this is the last one I ever do, it's been perfect".  Goodness knows why, it was just riding roads on a mountain bike through floodwater.  Goes to show, you never can tell where you'll find peace.

I adore this photo, it's reminiscent of the dead marshes. Something special about a blue evening sky reflecting in the water.

The water was tumultuous though, spilling out of drainage ditches across the lanes. Hub deep in places and cold on the toes, although air temperatures didn't drop until the sun went down and I could finally see my breath. 

More of that reflected sky. The mirror effect stronger in the darkest of lanes, lighting up the way as the light fell.

My favourite road. After a stiff climb, Raycombe lane rolls sheltered for a brief time, until you pop out the hedgeline and the sweeping panorama opens out across Bosbury. 

Leafless trees get drowned roots as water pours across the fields from Wellington hillsides.  A passing van created a wake which lapped up around my wheels and toes as I stood taking photos. Not that it mattered, they were already soaked.

This was deep, cold and no doubt the reason hub bearings have started to give up the ghost. Worth it though, for smiles, just because and for no other reason.