GOING FURTHER
ROUNDING THE HAIRPIN BEND, I was confronted by a steep flank of sun-warmed rock and another long, long, upward sweep of the road. I was already down to the lowest possible gear-setting. My legs were spinning. My head too. And the bike was crawling forward with an increasingly uncertain wobble. It was then that I decided to get off and push. What a delicious moment: realising that even on a bicycling holiday you are - in fact - allowed to dismount.