Now we learn how our indomitable pair descend a steep bendy hill without touching the brakes and having lost the pedals – no toeclips for them, they were men, after all. Jack the stoker, unsighted, could only manage a ‘Gosh’ which suggests fright was not in his makeup, or he really couldn’t see what was going on. Mind you, it was only just dawn, so not to worry about oncoming traffic and other incidentals. At a brew stop beyond St Asaph they planned the rest of the day.
The euphoria they now exuded knew no bounds, on and on they must go, stopping at waterfalls en route and generally enjoying the day. Then the first hint of trouble – the snow began to fall. By now our aspiring hard men were keen to take their lunch, and a sort of celebratory air overtook the meal. But wait! Are we still over a hundred miles from home? And does not pride always precede a fall …