Thankfully there was only the one occasion when I only got as far as ‘Ellie’ when there was a Big Bang and then things quietened to just flashes.
I heard rustling and unzipping from next door - I wasn’t the only one awake.
‘Are you awake Sharon’ came Jo’s voice. ‘Yes. You ok?’ I replied.
‘I’m just fixing my tent. Warning - I’m in my cycle jacket and pants’ at which point I hastily opted to remain within the confines of my own canvas - there’s been enough flashing already for one night!’
Having repositioned her wandering tent peg Jo returned to the safety of her tent and told me about the growing en-suite water feature beside Bab’s tent. We both peered through the dark towards a pond heading towards the corner peg. It had by now stopped raining so unless it started again, we felt it was safe to leave Babs sleeping.
I closed my eyes.
I woke with the brightness of morning and more rustling from next door. Keen to check for puddles of my own, I got myself moving. The offer of coffee was too alluring.
Though the en-suite water feature was now ebbing away, we all knew that the damp in the air would mean our tents would be that much heavier today. Breakfast was a leisurely affair, partly due to tiredness, partly due to the knowledge that nothing would be getting dryer due to the mizzle surrounding us.
‘Why do things never pack the same way twice?’
I couldn’t remember what went where and ended up with very uneven bags - It wasn't till later in the day that I would come to realise the effect of not trying again, while trying to control a speed wobble whilst heading downhill.
Once certain that we had left no trace, we headed out of camp and rode across the heathland towards brunch.
We didn’t get far through the atmospheric scenery before being distracted by a family of donkeys against their misty backdrop.
The little one, wasn’t sure what to make of us and the strange, silent beasts that carried us. It was scarily much happier to approach the car that had just drawn up.
By the time we reached our chosen breakfast stop, the sun was out and we could loose our jackets for a while.
You can’t visit the New Forest Lavender farm and not sample the lavender scones. Of course we left no trace there either.
It wasn’t till we were just about to leave when another customer called across - ‘Do you have a flat there?’
We all looked down at our bikes, but it was Babs that had won the puncture lottery. She started readying her steed for repair while I did the next best thing and ordered more coffee.
The coffee took longer than the repair, and we were soon on our way. Through village, hamlet and individual houses. Down some roads we knew and others that look like they have not been used in quite a while. At one point I was worried we were trespassing.
But it all reminded me how pretty my surrounding area is and how easy it is to get to it by bike.
We eventually reached the point where our paths would part, but not wanting to finish just yet, decided to have what is rapidly becoming a traditional parting drink at a handily placed pub.
After clinking our glasses to a successful tour and raising a toast to further adventures, I headed south while Jo and Babs took the northerly route.
But that wasn’t the end of the story.
Just as I reached Romsey, I heard the familiar rumble of thunder, but unsure of its direction, I wondered if the others were caught in a storm. I stopped and shot them a quick message just as the heavens opened and gave me a complete soaking.
Just as I reached Romsey, I heard the familiar rumble of thunder, but unsure of its direction, I wondered if the others were caught in a storm. I stopped and shot them a quick message just as the heavens opened and gave me a complete soaking.
‘Snack stop and tyre pump - slow puncture’ came the response.
I rode on in the rain, mulling over their good fortune with the weather and wondering if I was the 'rain magnet' we had been discussing the previous night.
It wasn’t until it started hailing and I ducked under a nearby bus shelter that the other part of the message hit me - ‘Snacks’ I said aloud, with a huge grin on my face, as I remembered my own stash.
All too soon, I was back home. The tent was thrown over the washing line - as ‘Accuweather’ promised a couple of dry hours - and I headed off to get a shower and warm through. The sorting of the rest of the gear could wait.
And what of the others? Well, the slow puncture became a full blown (or should I say unblown) puncture. Another cyclist came to their aid with another mechanical and they eventually reached home a few hours later.
Did it put them off?
No chance!
Keep your eyes peeled for tour number 3.
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