Yes that bag which was so lovingly packed yesterday, hid itself overnight and escaped my view as I stumbled out of the house at 7.15 this morning. So there I am standing at the bottom of a frosty Glen Ogil at 8.30 dressed in a gore-tex jacket, winter gloves, buff under helmet, gore-tex winter boots and 12 year old pace shorts suitable only to be used as liners.
"We can always go back and ride at home" is the half-hearted suggestion from Alex, but how cold can it be?
So off we set, at least I had proper shoes on, not like the Sidi race shoes Alex was wearing. As we crested the warm up climb a beautiful crisp mountain view came into sight, and dominating the horizon was one big snowcapped peak, surrounded by smaller hills. Even though I knew the inevitable answer I asked the question anyway, " So where does this route go?"
Oh well at least I remember the flask!
Just for the record, it can be bl**dy cold.