With an unusual, and insistent, easterly wind today, I chose to ride out into the wind, which took me into the china clay pit country of central Cornwall. I’m not so familiar with these roads, and I was reminded how enjoyable it can be just to explore, and to follow your nose.
Unfortunately near the beginning of the ride I had a forced encounter with a close-pass dimwit who took offence at my raised arm in frustration as he skimmed past me at high speed. After stopping hard in the road ahead, he matched my (slow, uphill) speed so he could rant at me, across his mum in the passenger seat who stared straight ahead and looked as if she hoped her seat would consume her. It was a 60mph road, apparently, which would have been too dangerous for him to slow down. Etc, etc. I wasn't erudite, but I didn't swear, or lose my rag.
After I’d left him in some puffed up righteousness of his own invention, prodding toward his dash cam, the old mum ashen, I of course spent the next few miles angrily formulating "what I should have said". At least that irritation got the pace up for a bit: and it was soon forgotten when I caught the quiet drama of the white clay pits over the fields. In the summer, when it’s been drier, everything around is softened with the white clay dust, the roads are white, everything seems quietened. Not so much at this time of year, but there is something gently enchanting about the area.
The ride back “with the wind” just proved the cycling truism that there is no such thing as a tailwind, which seemed to have turned toward the south, not to my advantage, but I did get a few miles of benefit. A few other aggressive and thoughtless passes -from vans, mostly- reminded me that I’d drifted onto roads busier than I’d prefer, especially with a gusting side-wind. Next time I’ll be more careful with my road choices, hereabouts.
55km, just over 1000m ascent. I wonder if his mum told him off.
