Down In The Forest II - Mud In July?

Yesterday, we carried out some proper reconnaissance, not like the rubbish variety found in Devon! There is a geocaching gathering at the pub for a barbecue next Saturday and a cache is being set for the day: Omally is the evil mastermind behind it and I and Loretta are his evil helpers, although, I hasten to add, much of the evilness is attributable to the Swedish element of the team. Unfortunately, Lorry could not be with us on this mission as she was *ahem* busy. We met at the Best Pub In The Universe for sustenance as usual, and then repaired to my garage to transfer two bikes from it to the rack on the back of the car. I reckoned that, if I was going to sweat around the forest again, I might as well get to where we were going and back as quickly as possible. Plus, in some places, the wind on the downhill bits might cool me down. There’s nothing like coasting down a forest track with the wind in your hair. And, of course, as most of you will realise, nothing could make that happen! Near the end of the journey, I spotted a chunk of rutted, uneven ground on the path and braced myself as I rode over it. I sank! Well, the bike did, but I just about managed to keep the machine moving. We arrived at the road and as I set off for the car, I felt two dirty great chunks of mud hit me in the back and heard a horrid, evil chortling behind me. Trust Omally to manoeuvre me into the only patch of mud currently in the New Forest.