There I was this morning out on a routine ride, when I came across what was obviously a feeding station of some sort. Runners or cyclists? I couldn’t tell, but the lady in charge seemed to be expecting me, so being a polite person I stopped and had a natter. Played havoc with my Strava segment times. Seems there was a mammoth 50 mile sportive in progress and she was the 28 mile feeding station (I jest not). Masses of food and drink to keep the hipsters and millennials happy. Riders weren’t expected for another 45 mins so she was happy to chat away. Then completely out of the blue she offered me not a cupfull but a bottle full of water and not one but two pieces of flapjack. I didn’t ask for them or indicate that I was at death’s door, but she insited that I took them. No payment needed, no charitable donation and no request for my address to forward an invoice. A very kind gesture.
Of course this was Uup Nawth where the locals all have two heads, eat babies for breakfast and live in semi permanent winter conditions.
I have blotted my copybook and suspect that I will now be banned from all future sportives anywhere in the country. My crime? I took the bottle with me, and when I’d finished drinking the contents I carried the empty bottle home to put in the recycle bin. How on earth will those who want to ride the route, but are too tight to pay an entry fee, ever follow the course, without a stream of empty bottles to follow?
And I didn’t see a single Mountain Rescue vehicle anywhere!