I persevered. And I was rewarded.
Knockbuckle Bridge had been relieved if its maintenance works – only noticing the fact that the bridge at Gateside too had been freed, after I had avoided it – and I worked up past Balrossie.
Chapel Farm was exquisite: bitingly cold – crisp and bathed in the brightest illumination my brave little Magicshine could throw. The climb upwards was technically-demanding (who knows what I may have encountered also) and the little track, bordered by hedges, seemed tighter in the darkness.
Rough-shod down, over and up out of High-Mathernock I powered, leaving the usual pretensions to sunnier moments: my toes were icicles, I already knew it was to be Harelaw Reservoirs and not the shorter Golf Road, and I wanted to be home.
A cuppa (naturally) and some marking awaited me; ‘Night Circus’, a delight in language too and I finished it during the wee small hours. Jack Campbell’s Lost Fleet (Book 2 of ‘Dreadnought’ sits at 4:23 and I must admit, the ‘spider-wolves’ and ‘bear-cows’ really are pushing the suspension of disbelief – even during the darkest of rides.
Wednesday? Turn right.