Today me and Steve took the journey in what started off as a 2 degree, frosty and foggy morning. My house is situated on a 'fogless' hill, so as I left it didn't dawn that I'd need flashers to warn cars of my presence. Within a couple of hundred metres I hit it and my distrust of cage drivers became apparent as I stuck to the bikepaths for safety.
The fog rolled over the hills until we reached clear skies. Steve decided to disrobe as he was getting a bit toasty, but as Murphie's Law would have it, the fog came in again until we reached Lake George.
Steve's bike, looking ever so colour coordinated with his apparel.
A bit of a moonscape, with windmills in the distance catching the wind from the open plains. Well worth the ride for the view, but breakfast was calling.
Steve took a moment to contemplate........the journey home.....after all, he is old (his words not mine).
And this is the last thing his breakfast saw once we reached Spill the Beans.
