I started with empty legs.
The carbon fibre dream bike felt nothing more than an overly expensive plastic two wheeled toy. Even in the early morning the heat was already in my mind and registering on my arms and brow. Away from the black top the full reservoir gleamed like an acre of dirty choppy topaz. Into Haigh woods recent very British Summer levels of rainfall had left the trail untrustworthy in level of grip.
Leaving Tingley truly I stopped on the long grass descent to gossip with a dog walker, the sun still fairly low there was no need to rush, my destination only moving away from me at a geological pace.