If you were expecting ‘smug’, you came the the right place…
Four of us, Matt G, Mark B, Kim and myself turned up at Bloomfield in less than ideal conditions at 0900. We waited in vain for five minutes to see if the Flat Earthers, the Fair Weatherers, or the simply pissed would be joining us. Being charitable, it may be the former took Matt’s advice and sought spiritualist enlightenment on their Turbo Trainers.
Matt as ever decided that the weather was simply not a sufficient challenge and arrived on a bike built from girders; the very antithesis of Huw’s new gossamer-like Look.
It was decided following a democratic, fully inclusive initial discussion that we would modify the route to take in about 30 miles looping out to Creswell Quay and back to Amroth as Mark had cycled over from Laugharne. Not a hint of dissent from the peleton.
Matt’s ever hopeful commentary on the weather; ‘looks like its brightening up’ failed to cheer Mark who was soaked to the skin and getting colder by the minute. His attempt to warm up by sprinting up hills worked in part, but it was clear he was loosing touch with his extremities.
Kim cut off at Redberth and the remaining intrepid threesome headed south over the Pembroke Road then back up Devonshire Drive. The coastal section started by decending into Saundersfoot via Sandy Hill Road then up to the top of Wisemans Bridge Hill.
Before dropping down into Wisemans Bridge we paused for refreshments. I spent Saturday night slaving over a hot stove to make Flapjack which turned out to be somewhere between Richard and Janice’s efforts (apparently a fan over is much hotter?!). The proof of the pudding was the lack of proposals of marriage as I shared out the golden, slightly crunchy, squares.
Matt and I decided that we had made our point, said goodbye to Mark and headed for home from Summerhill; Colby could wait for another (warmers, drier) day.
As a footnote, perhaps our illustrious Chairman needs to put in more training, rather than resting, if he wishes to keep up with the Flying Doctor.
