I was up and at it from 7am. The plan was to leave the bags behind, and destroy the local hills and Cols with a reduced load.
The weather was mighty fine, the roads were super slick, and I was blasting some Jackson 5 like a sufferer of shameless disco fever. It was for sure a good time. I had a ride along for a while with an old French dude. We were taking it in turns to lead the train. Then we hit a col, I turned around to check how he was doing. I understand that I’m a much younger man, but it was comical how much he was obviously suffering trying to keep up (his jersey was unzipped all the way, his big grey hairy chest was glistening with sweat, heavily panting and could even muster a singular word). Like a cruel demon, I rubbed it in by picking up the pace, applying full gas until he was out of sight (I wish I had said something like ‘aaahhh finally I’m warmed up’ or ‘suck my dust old man’
I returned to my tent for a true Mediterranean style nap before I slung all the bags back onto Olivia Fox. I had now set my sights on returning to the coast.
It was an easy ass 70km ride, mostly downhill. I stopped in Beziers for some fresh food supplies, a chat with my man Rupee P, and had a much needed catch up, and enjoyed some chocolate and peach ice cream
I hit the coast by the time it was dark, set up my tent (I’ve named it ‘The 3 Musketeers’ by the way) and got me some solid beach sleep.
New number 1, ultimate, supremo cycling track
Jackson 5 – Dancing Machine