Thursday's ride was rather more adventurous than I'd anticipated. The plan was simple - go the long way into town for an appointment and then head for home. Like all good plans, it went wrong before it had even started and instead of a leisurely mooch around the country lanes, I found myself belting it up the main road in an attempt to get there on time.
Appointment done and dusted, I decided to go the long way home instead to clear my head. I somehow went the wrong way, despite knowing these back roads like, well, the back of my hand, and eventually found myself not where I'd intended to be and facing completely the wrong direction.
It took longer than I care to admit to get my brain to come up with a suitable route home, but I eventually set off in the dusk, grateful that I'd thought to bring my Hope light as well as the 'be seen' one that's always on the bike.
It was all going well until I turned a corner to discover a brand new housing estate right where the road had been the last time I went that way. The bewilderment I felt must have been clearly etched on my face as I was rescued by one of the last builders leaving for the day, who kindly pointed me in the right direction.
Having got myself back onto familiar turf (tarmac), I was happily enjoying the sound of the owls doing the rounds in the late afternoon darkness and anticipating the chocolate cake awaiting my attention at home when I once again ran out of road, this time by order of the highway department and one of their Road Closed signs. I had two options - turn left and head back into town or follow the diversion sign pointing to the right and hope it wasn’t going to take me up and over the horrible hill looming overhead in the early evening shadows.
Town at rush hour wasn’t at all appealing so I hung a right, crossing my fingers that the sign at the next junction would take me around the hill and not over it... Turned out that the junction was devoid of any useful information so I went the way I wanted and was just starting to think I'd been sneaky enough to make it when my light revealed the sad truth, courtesy of another road closed sign.
Luckily the lanes round there are conveniently meandering so I was able to loop back to the first sign, grumbling under my breath as I grudgingly made my way into town. Stopping at a junction on the edge of town, waiting for a gap in the traffic so I could turn off and avoid the town centre, I tried to ignore the fact that I was less than quarter of a mile from where I'd begun my homeward journey nearly an hour and a half earlier!
I was pleasantly surprised by the traffic on the main road - not nearly as busy as I'd feared and the drivers were far more polite and respectful than I deserved given the unfriendly grudge I was still holding against the cyclist I'd encountered earlier who didn't have any front lights on the bike itself, relying instead on an overly bright head torch. When our paths first crossed, it took a few seconds for me to realise that I wasn’t about to be transported to a spaceship via tractor beam and several minutes for my eyes to reboot and my vision to return to normal. Grr.
When I eventually made it home, I wasn’t particularly impressed when the bike computer insisted I'd only done 26 miles. It felt much, much more than that!