Bostal

I have experienced the changing seasons from the top of Bo Peep Bostal.  Autumnal mists, the sparseness and thin air of winter, spring chatter and thick sweet scents of summer.

Climbing the gradient, breathing so hard, every time it changes but it is the same.  Climbing a Bostal road to nowhere for the sake of climbing it.  A place at the summit to rest on the top tube, slumped over the bars, to forget about thinking.

The northern escarpment of the Downs has been conquered.  See the sea on a clear day to the south – to the north the patchwork of green cut up by hedgerows, clusters and lines of trees and the glimmering water of the reservoir.

I will be back again soon to listen to the Skylark.