An old building. Not beyond use. Ripe for repurposing. I can’t see its future, I’m uncertain about its past. Its present is unprepossessing yet lures me to it. Boarded up with finger holes, ply paint peeled. I thought they were artworks when I drove past: clever silhouettes of cityscapes, real or imagined. Closer inspection revealed no hint of intelligent design. But now that I’ve told you what I thought, maybe you’ll understand why I decided to publish my photographs of them.
[Read more…] about Nothing To SeeArchives for October 2023
Flight from Rome
The bike packed, the bikebox booked and a boarding pass on my phone, it was breakfast time.
Happiness and Nothingness
They say that serotonin levels increase in proportion to sunlight exposure. So, in theory, I was getting happier and happier as we approached Rome. But I’m pretty sure that our 29 days in the saddle offset that happy hormonal benefit. The serotonin was probably keeping exhaustion at bay, at best. The only times I felt happy in Rome was after three dopio espressos reanimated me.
Day 29: All Hills Lead to Rome
We spent a breakfast-time hour looking for a place to stay in Rome. Pads and phones enabled the winnowing. We chose a just-in-time or last-minute methodology for hotel bookings for the entirety of this trip because you’d never know how far you’d get in a day. Age becomes a factor after retirement – who knows what bits will exceed their shelf lives without warning.
[Read more…] about Day 29: All Hills Lead to Rome28: Bolsena to Sutri on Via Cassia
It should have been easy cycling on the national route. The gears on my bike gave up again and we got help. It turned out that the gears took a knock that misaligned the front and once that was corrected, they were fine.
But it was brutal climbing up 300m from the caldera to Montefiascone with jamming gearing. It was still only 20 degrees and hard work. Truth is that my bike is much less suited to this journey than Chris’s steed.
[Read more…] about 28: Bolsena to Sutri on Via CassiaDay 27: Slog
The heat. The white roads. The gradients. The breeze.
Where are the shadows? Why not fill the pot holes?
The views. The deer. The vineyards. The hilltop castles and churches. The cypresses. The firecrests, the cirl buntings.
As breathtaking as the hills are for cyclegrims, this is even harder work than the spines of mountains we’ve previously crossed.
[Read more…] about Day 27: Slog