(Or, Doig and Pugs Versus Wild)
A few photos from our camp site just out of Moron (the night before).
(95kms of crazed cycling goes here)
Over-friendly peasant at grocery store – tries to get us to have a few beers with us – won’t take no for an answer – throws himself in front of Tama’s bike yelling “Proteste! Proteste!” as we try to ride off … his son races back into the store, grabs two cans of beer, thrusts them upon us as we leave. A couple of hours later I realise they are light beers, and jettison them; an hour after that I realise that he got us light beers because we were gesticulating that alcohol would put us to sleep on our cycles, so light beer was his gallant solution …
