An open love letter to Lake Placid

Dear Lake Placid or Misty,

Can I call you Misty? I think I shall. Where do I begin, Misty? I think I shall begin at the top. (Get it, hills, top, mountains... geez I kill myself)

As you well know before the wonderful weekend, that I was a sophisticated traveller who had experienced many different cafes and cities. I have been smooshed into trains in Delhi, I have been chased by ruffians in London, I have cried on the side of mountains, and I have laughed on the shores of oceans. But during all of those trips, I had never travelled to the 'Land of the Free' (Miami airport notwithstanding).

What I thought was that everyone in your part of the world hated cyclists? Turns out that you had a cycle lane from the border of your country to the heart of your city. You know what Misty, that means that you have a cycle path into my heart.

Your mountains, your marathons, your bike routes, your beautiful people and your roadies, they all conspired to steal my affections away from my true love, Londres (Fear not London, I am still yours, and soon I shall be in you).

I think both of us agree that this weekend while less than perfect (your rains, Misty. They need to not happen when we meet), was wonderful. Brief though this visit was, it was full of passion. I shall be coming back to you soon, Misty. So just make sure that the coffee is brewing, and the rain stays away. This time, I promise you, I shall be there longer.

Love,

@Damookman.

In this one a chalet gets in the way

Before I start, I must congratulate my erstwhile torturers friends MT, KT, LM and GP who kicked the Mt Ventoux’s bottom.The quickest time recorded was by LM @2:12 followed closely by KT who did it in the exact same time albeit with more rest periods.

The ride began on a beautiful day with nary a cloud to be seen. This caused a great deal of consternation within the group as ideas of rain/hail/snow/sleet were quickly ruled out. Breakfast was consumed with the same enthusiasm as a person who is about to walk the green mile consuming his last meal prepared by the cafeteria staff. Thankfully, the cafeteria staff in question was LM and his lovely wife HM who made sure that we were fed food fit for a king (or Prince Chuck anyway). With my excuses for wanting to take a nap instead of climbing a mountain dismissed as malarky, we set off.

In this one I wake up in Bedoin.

How to describe Bedoin? Picture a storm ravaged coastline replete with massive mongooses. Bedoin is nothing like that. Bedoin is more like a tranquil shark with blue skies, remoras and mountains surrounding it. As I sit poolside, listening to wind pass through the surrounding trees, I feel completely at ease.

We all went on a 20-odd kilometer ride through the Pyrenian mountains to the neighboring city of Malaucene. A lumpy ride during which I was attacked by retirees in spandex verbally and by vicious chihuahuas physically. But perseverance is the key here as evidenced by this picture. This picture was taken when I was racing to save a puppy from drowning in a lake up the road. While details are sketchy, this image is not altered in anyway shape or form^**.

The ride was followed by a quick shower and a sojourn into the village to hunt Baguettes and Beer. Beer was obtained, along with a coffee based drink that looked confusing. Confusing because it came with tassels. Delicious regardless of its form this was consumed with much rapidity. Now I am waiting for dinner. I am right chuffed about it. For tomorrow, we suffer.


^** Image completely doctored. Any resemblance to any such events occurring at that time are purely coincidental. 

In this one I discover that retirees are full of lies.

People in Canada had a long weekend in the not too distant past celebrating the birth of this nation, as well as the one to  the south. No. I do not mean Mexico, although I would like to celebrate their independence day as well (doing this would involve drinking Tequila).