Time to Panic
In four days we leave on our first serious tour in over two years.
We were lying in bed a couple of weekends past when the panic set in. It happens before every trip. For months you anticipate and day dream about the ride and think of all the great setup work you'll do to be prepared.
Then, two weeks before departure, reality hits like a ton of bricks. Lists grow like vines, equipment is swapped in and out (we really did need new panniers, didn't we?), maps are plotted (or so you thought), and by the way who's going to take care of the cats while we're gone?
On Saturday we rode with our new eqiupment setup for the first time. It wasn't really a ride – Mary wasn't feeling well and I could tell her heart wasn't in it. We managed one climb up Pink Lake and turned around. (When inflating the tyres next morning I saw that the pressure was almost down to 60 psi. Hmmm, maybe she was pulling her weight after all.)
Yesterday was a full length, fully loaded ride to the top of Champlain Lookout. We were rather pleased with ourselves, except I had to stop for lack of fuel 5 km from home, and afterwards the legs felt like concrete.
Last night Lady Como was disassembled. I undid bolts and Mary documented steps (just in case). Lady Como rests in suitcases, waiting to be reassembled in some small hotel room on the far side of the Atlantic.
We are both out of shape and are carrying too much weight, but I don't care how steep those hills are. Our walking shoes are packed and if we have to walk it will be with smiles on our faces.
Four more days of panic. Then let the good times roll.