Soaked to the bone

"He who knows how to breath in the air of my writings is conscious that it is the air of the heights, that it is bracing. A man must be built for it, otherwise the chances are that it will chill him. The ice is near, the loneliness is terrible - but how serenely everything lies in the sunshine! How freely one can breath! How much, one feels, lies beneath one!"

Today I rode over the Reefton Spur to see if there was any snow left.  It poured rain and I was sodden and freezing.  But it was still fun to be out.

And what a pleasure it was to descend from the mountain and experience, closer to sea level, the warmth of a Spring day even when it was considered a cold one.  The chill is permanently gone from the air.

It is also fun, in a childish way, to have all the cars slow right down due to their fear of driving in the heavy rain and - feeling the sure-footed-ness of the bike - to over-take them like a Norse hero with a belly full of laughter, the kind of laughter that scorns the storm.

I merely hope, mortal that I am, that I don't fall ill from the chill I experienced on the mountain - I was feeling affected in my soaked and speeding state - as I have glorious rides awaiting me in the coming weeks.