There Will Be Blood

 And there was... head full of Whiskey in an attempt to combat a nasty cold, I was just chopping some wood for the fire when the axe slipped and bit deeply into my hand. Oh well, it's not like I work with my hands or anything. I cleaned the wound with whiskey and bound it with a field dressing and it's now mostly healed- notes to self- stay away from the pointy end, don't chop stuff when you're drunk, etc.

 A few bikes we saw on our travels while we slummed it in our new van. The Scottish Islands are perfect for a leisurely bike trip. I might start planning one for myself soon.

 

 It's quite unbelievable that we have such perfect and uninhabited beaches like this, shame I was suffering from a nasty cold. There's even one that you can land an aeroplane on.

Holiday over, now where did I put that map of France?

Happy days #2

So the working week comes to a close for me and I find myself loving my life. Money is tight but I'm making more money than my bills for the last couple of months. I never thought I could make a living from massage and yet my business has grown steadily over the last year with existing and new clients. More to the point I've really helped people. They've crawled in and walked out. It's no miracle cure, it's hard bloody work and I love it.
For the first time in ages I have given myself some time to sit down with a good single malt and a Cuban cigar. The light is fading and it's getting towards zero degrees. But I have a candle and a wooly hat and I'm not going in til my fingers burn. Happy days.

Sunrise

6.30 this morning and I'm being gently prodded back to life after half a bottle of whiskey finally dispatched me to bed at 2am this same morning. I'm not a morning person at the best of times so this morning was never going to be easy. Nonetheless I got up-and-at-em with little fuss. I fought to put on the muddy, wet gear from the fast, loose and muddy ride to the remote hostel and put on what dry gear I brought with me while trying to defend myself against daggers from people who don't think they snore- I myself heard snoring in the bunk room before I found what little sleep I was going to get so I can't be totally to blame. The cold, dark morning was quite a contrast to last nights rain followed by mist followed by dense cloud followed by lashing rain and the onward ride, for once, was mostly downhill- a payoff for last nights hellish climb. Lights lit and we push off into what was shortly to become a fine sunrise; the four of us all had to be at work despite the previous nights partying. My bike cut through the trail like a dagger with only the distant clicking of the freewheel and scuffing of the singletrack coming through the din of the wind rushing past my ears. Thankfully I found the culprit of the maddening front brake squeek that was torturing me over the weekend; brand new brake pads dragging their leading edge against the front disk. I chamfered the edges like you have to do on old Harley drum brakes, problem solved and sanity saved. Slabs of jagged rock and freshly swollen rivers punctuate the flowing trail as the rhythm gets faster til i'm going as fast as I dare down the last death-or-glory descent. Once again I didn't die and once again the glory is purely personal. People just don't get it unless they themselves do it so there's little point in trying to regale them with the stories. I'm content; the meal we went there for was nothing short of a miracle, the company was excellent and I got five minutes of peace this morning for the zen hosing down of the bike. One day I'll try to explain why I ride a single-speed in the mountains but I'll have to figure that out for myself first.

Holiday Snaps

I can't quite believe that in just 10 days we took about 500 photos; ah the joy of digital photography. Every once in a while it does the soul good to immerse oneself in the great outdoors and do wholesome activities rather than just music and motorbikes. Don't get me wrong- I took a guitar and was pining for a motorbike the whole time. Beyond that we climbed mountains, cycled over big hills, scrambled up and down avalanches (for want of a better word) and finally barbecued on beautiful white sandy beaches while smoking big cigars and drinking fine whiskey. Sure we had midges, a force 11 gail and some rain but I kid you not, the rest of the time was almost tropical. I also came back with some of the finast Harris Tweed known to man to satisfy my cloth fetish.

Skye

August in Scotland infers midges, rain and deep fried food for some.
For me an Islay Single Malt and a Partagas D4 will have to suffice.
The sun shines on the righteous normally but today it's shining on me.