Posted on Monday 24 September 2012 by Martin Hayman
What did it was the moment an onrushing car, at the crest of the rise about 500 m distant, decided to storm past a slower vehicle down the dip slope towards us. In fine weather, it would have been a questionable manoeuvre. In the conditions, it was truly terrifying.
Rain was plummeting down, driven by a chill easterly blowing the leaves off the forest trees that crowd in over the narrow, switchback B2169, turning it into a dark tunnel; the road surface deeply rippled chip-and-seal, holes concealed by deep standing water, requiring me to pilot our 3-man squad, at absolutely maximum effort, some couple of metres out from the crumbling edge. Near-continuous traffic, lights blazing, blasted past us at 50 mph or more. My spectacles (and indeed eyes) were filled with rain; having dropped the chain once already, I dare not risk the change out of the big ring. Stopping was not an option. more »