sailing past me in third gear , while I rarely even got to use second . Soon I found myself stone dead last and worried I couldn ’ t keep up with the group . Uphill slopes required a two-legged paddle and full throttle , downhills a two-legged outrigger stance to keep from ploughing into the bank . I crashed many times , fortunately the soft sand meant that I could continue uninjured .
Heading west meant riding into a setting sun adding blindness to the level of difficulty . Mercifully , we pulled up at a clearing by the railway line and made camp for the night .
Exhausted , yet satisfied that I had made it , not relishing the thought of another day like this .
A fire roared in the middle of the camp , old railway sleepers the fuel of choice .
Fitful sleep in my tiny oneman tent , in my tiny sleeping bag . Little space on the bike meant economising on size and weight in
TRAVERSE 39