Mountains, roadworks, seaweed, a mirror and a TWOC

I’ve tried to make a point of capturing a few more images during the past few days.  I realise that for the hard of reading, more pictures = more attention.  Furthermore, as I’m a bit of a lazy git, what with a picture painting a thousand words and all that, I can save myself hours on the old QWERTY.

Let me begin with the boy’s first felony.  He took a shine to a rather spiffing Lamborghini and promptly relieved its owners of said Italian loveliness.  Exhibits A & B, your honour:

ImageImageI believe this is known as a TWOC in police-speak.  No doubt Dan will correct me if necessary.

On the way out to the scene of this heinous crime we passed some roadworks.  We’d have crashed into the truck if it hadn’t been for this chap:

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This is a pretty standard device on the roads here.  The best bit is that the arms wave, but I think he could do with a sandwich or a bowl of noodles.

The journey home found us getting thirsty, so we stopped for some banana milk (cue Lizzy) and a packet of seaweed crisps.  We did share them, but the boy was too busy to photograph his dad:

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I know it’s seaweed, but the photograph in the middle reminds me of a line in this:

Spinach in your teeth (@1:42) is definitely not a good look, however cute you may be.

Yesterday was quite warm, so I set off reasonably early for my weekend ride.  I followed the river up to Hengshan and then crossed the bridge before starting to climb the mountain.  This is before the painful bit, looking at where I’m heading and back down the river to where I’ve just been:

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As I started the climb, I spotted another cyclist just ahead; I had him pegged at about twenty seconds in front, but I could not close the gap, and after twenty minutes I simply had to sit up and creep up the final few hundred metres.  I stopped at the junction, scoffed a banana, downed a bottle of Pocari Sweat (yes, that is the name of a sports drink – Japanese, I think?) and tried to capture the moment on digital celluloid:

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A welcome, fast descent awaited, marked by this bridge at the bottom.  An old boy was walking along the centre line for some reason; perhaps he doesn’t like heights?

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The views either side made the pain of the climb worthwhile, and I still had a long steady descent along the valley to come.

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This was a timely reminder that you never quite know what is around the next corner:

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Actually, it’s usually dogs just wandering around.  You can never be sure what they are going to do, so I always prepare for a sprint should the dastardly mutts suddenly turn and give chase.  (I must have passed hundreds in recent weeks: just two have decided to have a little dig, but no contact made with my flesh as yet.  I still get that cold feeling and goosebumps when I fear that a dog is going to start ripping chunks out of my calf.)

Other hazards include pretty much anyone who happens to be on the road.  Not far from home yesterday, some old bloke decided to get on his scooter and pull out into the road with nary a glance.  I anticipated that he may well do this, but he kept on going, right across the lane into the space at which I was heading at about 25 mph (*cough* slightly downhill and a following wind *cough*), so when I eventually arrested my speed and swerved back to the nearside, I turned to give him the most severe of my withering looks.  Of course, he was completely unfazed, unlike my shorts which had a few moments of abject terror foist upon them.  Thankfully, chamois shame was averted, dear reader.

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