Lost for type

For 3 days now I have been lost as to what to type for our yearly weekend.

To fully describe our little holiday will take days.. . So what do I do. This blog is for when we are old and infirm, we can look back on our adventures, but to put into words what a monumental and privilaged few days we had would be an epic undertaking.

So instead... I just sum it up with pics (I havent found a way to put video on the net yet)

loooooong slideshow


Follow that link. Its sufficient to say that all who attended had a moment of clarity that weekend. A point, however brief, where life had proper meaning...  where one feels so alive it hurts... where one elevates to such highs of adrenalin and friendship that you know, deep down, that it does'nt get any better. A few snapshots...

• The single most focused section of track that you hit as hard as you can an know that your mates are right behind you.
• The horrific climb that pales into insignificance because you are chatting and suffering with your riding buddyand admitting to each other that  the sheer pleasure of being out is over compensation.
• The joy in watching your best buddy face his demons and walk away knowing he is stronger.
• The horrific walk back up the hill to find mates, that are not behind you and discover that the only reason is a puncture and not an injury.
• Seeing a mate, previously blighted by falls and injury, regain his mojo in front of your very eyes.
• The pleasure in mens faces that they forced themselves to carry  on, and NOT take the bail!
• The ritual piss taking and self deprivation that highlights the best in the human mind.
• Bank Top
• Olivers Pale Ale
• Cold Cold Rivers.

But most of all, being in the finest place on God's green earth with the finest mates God could ever deliver doing the finest sport God could invent, drinking God's own drink.

Did I mention I had a good weekend ??