![\"img_0359\"](\"http:\/\/peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-content\/uploads\/2009\/05\/img_0359.jpg\" "\\"img_0359\\"")
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near Zurich to Wolveg via Leuwaarden<\/p>\n
No sooner had I put my tent down than it began to spit. a cold bitter morning, misty with a weak orange sun. All I could think of was the next town and a cafe to sit in, while the day warmed up. But its sunday, an Easter Sunday, and the town, Harlingin, is deserted. Kids sat around a burning something on the beach, rows of masts along the canal, piles of chairs outside cafes advertise “gestolten”, closed.
But there is a brass band playing hyms on a bridge, and near them, like they were a good omen, a hotel restraunt to serve me coffee. And after that the rest of the day begins.<\/p>\n
The man just gives me the beer. They usually sell only ice cream, but he can probably tell that I need it. Its a good sign too, and 5 minutes along the route, I stop to camp. Its been a long day of straight lines and milky sunlight, beautiful canals and moored boats. Too much watching the odometer, too many gorgeous treelined lanes to photograph. I passed a woman lying across the body of her dog, freshly hit by a car. I dreamed of a plate of chips all day, but that will have to wait till tommorow.
I was especially tired, crawling into my tent, having cycled 117km on a bad nights sleep. I had nightmares the night before, about impotence induced by too many hours in the saddle, and woke often, terrified I would loose my ability to love, and have children, to my bicycle. I lay there desperately thinking dirty things to test if I still worked. But I no success, maybe there was too much pressure to perform (or not enough pressure as the case may be) so I eventually fell asleep still worried about family planning. In the morning, as often happens to men at dawn, I was reassured.<\/p>\n
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near Zurich to Wolveg via Leuwaarden No sooner had I put my tent down than it began to spit. a cold bitter morning, misty with a weak orange sun. All I could think of was the next town and a cafe to sit in, while the day warmed up. But its sunday, an Easter Sunday, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":108,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=107"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":877,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/107\/revisions\/877"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/108"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=107"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=107"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterstenhouse.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=107"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}