Brecon Beacons (part 2)

There is nothing unusual about the weather forecast being wrong in UK. In fact, the MET office can easily employ an army of fortune tellers and base their forecasting software on readings of colourful flashes from their crystal balls and I’m sure noone would notice any increase in inaccuracy of their forecast. Again, they predicted a nice sunny hot weekend and yet, I was woken up in the middle of the night by cold droplets of gentle rain…

…ok, I though, I’ll just wrap myself deeper into my waterproof sleeping bag, it will surely stop in a minute. But the rain got more and more intense, until it changed into heavy rainfall, which even my sleeping bag couldn’t bare anymore. I jumped out, put my raincoat on and stood there in the middle of the black rainy darkness. I decided to swich on my headlamp and wander around until the rain stops. Thinking how scary I must have been looking at 3am in the forest wrapped in a black raincoat wandering around aimlessly. But there was not a living soul around who I could have scared. Very soon, I realised that the forest wasn’t pitch-black anymore and I started to be able to see where I was…

…strange mythical towers were overlooking the trees around me…

…the absolute silence of early morning was only disturbed by the squealing sounds of wind…

…it looked like it would rain forever and so I decided to head out of the mountains…

…and then I spotted it… sunlight…

…in a snap of a moment, the clouds started to fall apart…

…letting the rays of sun create biblical scenes…

…I decided to climp on the top of a nearby hill to get some view of where I was…

…in the middle of silent world…

…rain slowly raising back up to the clouds…

…as usually my scooter attracted some new friends while I was climbing the hills…

…as we descented down from the mountains to a water reservoir, it was obvious that there would be a hot sunny day in front of us…

…zig-zaging along the forest lanes, we found our way out from the Brecon Beacons…

…stopping in tiny forgotten villages…

…lady with full basket of cherries explained to me that the church was abandoned after it was permanently getting flooded by the nearby river…

…there were many places where I could hardly imagine more relaxing road than the one I was just riding on…

…as soon as I wanted to move off from somewhere nice, I had to stop at yet another beautiful place…

…very slowly I was passing through flowery villages…

…enjoying the hot summer breeze after the horror night…

…I took a detour to see my favourite place in Cotswolds, the Broadway tower…

…the air was unbelievably fresh and clean after the night rain…

…and so we slowly passed through the villages of Cotswolds…

…and continued our long way to London on the overheated country lanes…

…these are the times, when riding a scooter can be the most enjoyable pure form of relaxation.