Wednesday 22nd July 2009 Day 4

ODO 364 - 468: 104km

Tender rump; Over one hundred kilometres. Long days. Nothing but food for thought; ten pounds a day. Such lovely helpful people; All towns have young punks. University town of Loughborough making me feel old.

It felt good to be riding again. The day of rest did nothing more than help me sleep off my end of term exhaustion. My backside was still tender and sore on my unbroken in saddle but much better than I'm sure it would have been without the day off the bike. Most of my muscular pains had gone and whilst your legs get tired, the first hour or so is the hardest. Then you get into a bit of a groove and it all becomes easier. Speeds that felt fast and were a push at ten am fell slow and easy but half three in the afternoon. Higher gears get used and hills becomes less taxing.

The route today travelled more on roads than previously and roads mean ups and downs. Sustrans, credit to them,have done well to find nice quite back roads and country lanes to follow. The hills and turns create variety and a change of pace. Having to look for signs at every intersection and turning keeps you alert and of course suburban streets mean people. Hellos and nods boost your excitement at every blind corner. A young boy washing his mum's car filled my water bottle, although he was a bit cautious when I first approached him. Once he worked out what I wanted and that I posed no threat the smile on his face showed he was more than happy to help.

I had a great chat to an elderly gentleman in the town of Market Harborough. Incidentally the ride form Northampton to Market Harborough was gloriously flat and straight for the majority. He cycled a bit and was interested in myself, where I was off too and my bicycle. He pointed me in the direction of a good bakery for elevenses which in quantity turns out to be more like lunch take one of three. Then returned to his mornings shopping leaving me to enjoy the tranquil surroundings of the town square.

The weather held off although there were a few very light and un-sustained showers. Poor weather where there is no shelter encourages you to keep riding for what else is there to do. The exercise keeps you warm and dries your clothes remarkable quickly when the rain stops.

I noticed how long the days feel. Not in a dragging on sort of way but during my reflection time in the evening I realise how much I had to concentrate to remember it all. The morning seemed like a distant memory.

About ten miles south of Derby where route 6 takes a turn to the north; if you take the forest trail to the east it comes to a section where the trail narrows and becomes muddy and difficult to pass. It is here you will find an old brick bridge which spans the gully you stand in. Climbing the bank reveals on one side a field of crops. The other side remains a mystery as the bank is too steep and overgrown to ascend. The vegetation on the bridge suggests it has not been used by vehicle or creature in many years. Beneath the bridge, however, are picnic tables and what look like wooden recliners and it is here in the cool stillness of the woods with the distant noise of a motorway that I made my camp for the night. But be warned for when you wake in the morning and look above you you'll notice many missing bricks from the underside of the bridge. An observation you may wish you had made before resting your sleepy head exposed to the falling debris.

My isolated camp site with nought but the distance noise of a motorway (I assumed the M1) felt lonely. I missed my late night ravers who had visited me without acknowledgement of my presence for the previous two nights. My thoughts focus on the social interaction I had experienced throughout the day. Wild camping, particularly dinner times are best shared. I missed my travel companion Amos and wondered if I couldn't find someone to share the experience of the big trip. I spent time pondering why I enjoyed this sort of experience so much.

I'm inherently quite lazy so the physical exertion whilst manageable is not really considered fun. The isolation is fantastic forabout 90 percent of the day. The other ten percent it is down time. I enjoy my own company and the peace of being independent but during meal times I want conversation and human companionship. Is it because it's different? Or is it because it takes me from the real problems of my life? It's much easier to focus on whether to make my camp on the level but muddy ground or soft grassy patch that is uneven than to face the real dilemmas of my life. What is the purpose of my life? What do I want to do with it? Am I …? Some heavy questions I've been working on now coming up ten years. Any answers - no. But what a wonderful life of experiences I am living as a result of this quest.