Some you win, some you lose.

Relatively lazy start to the day. Breakie was at 8 and the cycle could be anywhere from 36 - 55 miles depending on the weather and the forecasts were not promising. Checked out & almost got away without paying. She came dashing out after me. Not that it was that pricey. It was at that point the rain came. Sheltered for a while but at some point it was a grin and bear it situation because there was no imminent prospect of better. A matter minutes and I was soaked. A matter of a couple of miles and a pot hole and the first puncture of the trip. Some vague shelter under a tree and some road side bike servicing I claimed to enjoy - pah! Was a swift replacement inner tube job except when back on the road there was a regular thud. Checked that no spokes had gone - the wheel was still true(ish) - think the pothole buckled the other way and it was both annoying and concerning. Nothing to be done though, other than worry. Pushed onto to the solitary stop - the Pancho Arena - one of the most unique football stadiums in the world, built for a 3rd tier (at best) team. It just happens to be the president's home town - I'm saying nothing more... A bit further than expected but in a village a stadium kind of stands out. Followed signs for home and away fans & no-one was at the gate so just sailed through. Started the usual circumnavigation of the stadium and as luck would have it, there was a gate open. Parked up and had a little explore. A lady went through at the same time & said nothing. A couple of other people were around and equally ignored me. Carried on to the front, quite unique. Took in the statue of Puskas and the private parking spot of the president right by the VIP entrance. Carried on round to where I was planning to come in and was roundly shooed out and away as was a Swiss guy I got chatting to. The guard wasn't for tourists taking photos. Told him there wasn't a guard at the other entrance & wished him luck. Clearly luck evens out, not that the rain stopped, nor the thumping from the wheel. Ah well. Classic rolling terrain and rain - all felt very British and mad drivers getting way too close. On the last climb into Budapest, some old guy greeted me at the summit with a round of applause. Wouldn't get that in the UK. Downhill to the hotel and dryness.Read more