Google maps. As my mate Hutch said, it’s your best friend and your worst enemy. Well, he was right.
I’ve ended up in farmers’ paddocks, goat tracks and riverbeds. And you know what, it’s been damn good fun.
During one of google’s detours around Embalse de la Granda, a lake in Asturias, Spain, I found myself on another boggy track. After pushing the bike through a mud pit I stopped to wipe some muck from my hands on a thatch of grass.
Serpiente. It turns out that St Paddy had driven the snakes out of Ireland and into Spain (the small ones, anyway). Had I just disturbed Seoane’s Viper? Or perhaps Lataste’s Viper? Only the Good Lord, in His infinite grace, shall know.
My reptilian friend made for the bushes and I kept on truckin’ through the morass. At the end of the track, I stopped for a drink. A guy driving a van pulled up and said, “You came through there on that?”
Or at least that’s what I made out from the few words I know in Spanish and his wild gesticulations. He looked at his passenger, shook his head, and took off.
I looked up.
There was a painting of the good Samaritan scene together with a syringe smashed apart: I was at the gates of a drug rehabilitation center. And the guy that had just left must have worked there. Even he thought I was mad coming down that track with my load on. Hey buddy, I thought, it’s not my idea, blame google!
Anyway, enough of that malarkey. Here’s some shots of me at the beach.