Rites of Passage

I managed to do most of the packing for our trip the previous night, but, with some business stuff to tidy up, there were still some loose ends to sort out in the morning and I was inevitably in a rush to get our 9.10 am train from Ilkley. Whether it's just a weekend away, a week's break, or longer, it's always such a relief to actually begin the journey and know that any more worrying about forgetting stuff is futile.

Travelling on a summer Saturday is not ideal. The train from Leeds to Birmingham was standing room only and No.2 son and I were forced to sit down on the floor next to our bikes. I'd planned to work on this leg of the trip but I guess I wasn't too sorry to have an opportunity to pick up with the novel I started on the trip to Ireland a few weeks back. The forecast rain for today arrived on time and once again I found myself in the situation of being thankful that an event wasn't being held on the day before! By the time we reached Llandrindod Wells the rain had stopped although the weather still looked threatening. We just had a short ride to our B&B, a mile down the road towards Builth, accomodation I felt very lucky to have found at such short notice, with 500 people entered for the Devil Ride, the majority of which would be staying overnight.

After settling in at the B&B the rain swept through again, not heavy, but enough to deter us from getting out for our planned late afternoon ride. No.2 son didn't seem to mind. I think he was quite happy to chill and plan with me his route for tomorrow. This was going to be something of a Rite of Passage for him. I'd done the same thing with my two much younger brothers at the same kind of age: throwing them in at the deep end, confident in their ability to look after themselves and knowing that they would feel a strong sense of achievement from being self-reliant. I gave him the map and suggested that he follow the first southern section of the Devil Ride, then finishing along the route of the Little Devil. If he watched the Women's Road Race from the Olympics first, then he'd probably not have long to wait before I finished my ride. He seemed happy with that plan and actually very excited about what was going to be quite an adventure for him. It is odd, though, that for my generation, and for the previous one almost more so, kids of fourteen were far more adventurous than they are now. For all their precocity in many areas of life, young people don't seem to have quite the same curiosity about the world as I remember having at that age.

We enjoyed a very good meal in the pub in the village just down from where we were staying at Holly Farm, Howey, and it was wonderful to be able to share this one-on-one with my youngest. His obvious enthusiasm for his ride tomorrow made me feel that I'd made the right decision about this trip. My only fear was him getting a puncture or suffering a mechanical of some kind. But kids of his age have always had to deal with this sort of thing. He'd cope somehow. It would be part of the experience. I told myself that he'd be fine! I'm sure my parents never worried like this. Or perhaps they did but they never let on. I shall have to ask my mum!