The Excitement

The first day. Ah, what a day! I woke early (or didn’t sleep, would be more accurate) and looked out the window – grey and wet. Welcome to England. Well, I knew what I’d signed up for and didn’t stress over the weather – I had things to do, such as unpack and assemble my bike, so I got busy. A friend came by and picked me up to deposit me in Eton, west of London and close to the bike route I would be taking. I was safely deposited, along with all my gear, on the pavement of Eton’s high street. I attached my panniers and, tent, etc and was left with my small backpack on my back. Not ideal for 54 miles, but it didn’t fit in the panniers. Oh well!

I got going in the right direction eventually, with just a few false starts. And then, I was on The Path! And the sun came out! And the roses were fragrant! And life was *perfect*! I rode through fields and along the canal on a singletrack path, complete with ruts, stumps and my first water crossing of the trip. My bike bounced along stoutly, and seemed to be bearing the load admirably. I was doing it! I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt like the sun was my welcome gift. I pedaled on.

Hours later, I was still pedaling on. I realized that my average speed was, well, embarrassingly minuscule actually, and wondered how I was going to traverse all these miles before dark. Granted, it wouldn’t be dark until after 10…but as it was I didn’t even have water in my bottles. The excitement was good, but it wasn’t going to carry me on it’s own. I needed water desperately and it was past due food time. I hadn’t started riding until after 2pm, hadn’t had anything but breakfast, and it was after 4. Time to take a break. I spotted a pub and shakily parked my bike. I clacked into the pub with my water bottles and politely asked for a glass of water and menu. I drank the water in a gulp and the bartender asked if I’d like my bottle filled. Gratefully, I accepted. I ordered some food and went outside to a table in the garden. The bartender brought me more water and asked me where I was headed. He was surprised when I told him. “That’s a good distance – must be 30 miles from here”. Yeah, I know…I pulled my map out to look for a Plan B option to stop somewhere after Reading, rather than going to my planned destination of Newbury. Nothing seemed super obvious, so I was momentarily without a backup plan. No worries, it would work out.

Back on the bike and fortified with food and water, I was determined to make better time. I was on a nice smooth ‘A Road” that was fairly wide and had a bit of a shoulder. And it seemed to have a very slight downhill grade, which motivated me to reach speeds in the low 20s. Life was good. I needed to check my location before this coming roundabout though, so I would pull over. Except I crashed. Yep, and hard. (more about this later).

The end result was that everything did work out – I was actually given a ride all the way to my campsite by a kind passerby who stopped to help when he saw me go down. People came to my aid – strangers went out of their way to help me. I was connected to people and made friends for the moments when it mattered. My smile wavered while I assessed my condition, but I think it just got bigger after that. Nothing broken, no concussion – just some nasty road rash and a couple small cuts on my head. Life was good, people were good and I was blessed. My heart was overflowing.