‘Have you just come or are you going?’ the lady asked at the entrance gate to the Old Ghost Road.
‘ I have just changed my mind,’ I replied. Today, I took my heavily laden bike on the main road and not on the steep, narrow mountain bike route. My gut feeling was that this was the safest thing to do.
I was at the entrance gate with the German, Fritz, when a mountain biker came out of the little hut next door.
‘I don’t want this to sound bad, but are you sure you want to do this?’
Yes. I knew it was steep. And narrow. I’d have to carry my luggage up the steep bits separately. He went on, and I realised that my super heavy bike just wasn’t the right tool for this task. I checked out the first 500m of the trail and turned back, disappointed but sure I had made the right decision.
I continued on the main road westwards to join the other end of the Old Ghost Road. As the weather got wetter and more miserable, I was happy I wasn’t 1000m higher on an exposed mountain ridge.
I was planning to have lunch in Westport but my drowned rat instincts decided it was time to call it a day. Tomorrow morning there is a short break in the rain. I might try to do some kilometres before I get too wet.
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