Yesterday morning, our hostal owner greeted us with a warm "buenos dias" followed immediately with "Hace Friooooo" complete with pantomimed shivery arms.
Great.
After our equestrian adventure the previous afternoon, we took out some bikes with the intent to ride up to a lookout point above the city. This morning, a town seemingly too dry for clouds was an ominous gray, and even with three layers of clothing, the wind was bitingly cold.
Our gloved hands were bright red by the time we hit the dirt road that led ever upward, and the wind was howling over the hillside like something out of a horror flick. We pedalled on, past gate doors that swung spookily in the moaning gales, past cows that... well, there was really nothing menacing about the cows. The creepiness of the ride was enjoyably distracting from other discomforts (tip: dont ride horses, then bike. Rest That Area), and we certainly had the trail to ourselves. This was also my first real experience mountain biking, and I rode the brake hard, mindful that a face-full of rocky earth or a broken arm would require some pretty creative rewrites for Off Season.
At the end, or the middle to be exact, the lookout point was amazing and worth it. It was extra windy up top, as was to be expected, this hilltop is used as the launch point for paragliders. The ramp that they use is horrifying to behold, a few steps downward out into nothing. It ain't pretty.
The way back down the mountain was better (gravity and food fantasties easing the way) and we were glad we didn't wimp out under the chilly warning of that spooky wind. It was still howling when we rode past again, but almost all of the menace was lost.
No comments:
Post a Comment