Holyhead greeted me with a cold fish handshake and a face full of rain.
The train ride had been entertaining from Shrewsbury to Chester as the racegoers sardined into the carriage dressed to the nines. Heavy gold earrings were de rigeur : just one each to set off the whistle , flute etc. And a rapidly emptying can in the hand that wasn’t holding on to the swaying train. Several announcements warned they might have to walk home if ‘one over the eight’. Several were already.
The wind blew from the south altering its angle of atttack subtly with each twist and turn of my route. Over Anglesey , little to say. I K Brunel’s Menai bridge was nice and very like his Clifton gorge crossing. Picture hazy taken through driving rain: editing may help. Will try.
Then into the teeth of the longest squall this Millenium . It blew rain up under seams, through waterproof gear and carried road grit into chain, mechanism to start up a tinkling musical accompaniment to my grunts and groans.
62miles later, in the mist and dark with a hooly blowing off the Irish Sea I arrived at the lovely Moel yr Wyn guesthouse. It is on the top of a long hill. It took me a very long time to get up it. 6 hours of cycling into the wind was beginning to take its toll.
Recovery drink , pot noodle and shower seem to have helped but I think I shall sleep rather well.