Can I borrow a tent? Said Ange.
I have many tents, said I, come and get one. And bring your bike.
It was a little later than usual when we met up, Phil was playing too, and we were all kinda relaxed tonight, so we took a few detours so I could show them some other local trails.
The climb up the Kilpatricks was in golden evening light with a hint of autumn within.
The trail was drier than we’d imagined and after stopping to watch the sun slip away, we tore down the hill like Roger Moore being chased by guys in black on skis with machine guns before stopping at the garage for cuppas to the scent of burning brakes.
A simple joy, and although I know every pebble of the route, an unending one.