Raging nature

We were resorted to pushing our bikes, our luggage, downhill! The damn wind, it terrified me, all over the road, standing still on the verge, trucks sucked us into their air stream. A straight line was impossible. At first we pushed on the incline, then unnerved, wobbling, on the flats, bodies bent forward at 45 degrees, tired of breaking and the fear for our own mortality, then pushing downhill. The wind was fierce.
We had stayed an extra day in the first town after the border into Turkey, Kirklareli. Gale force winds ripping over our hosts balcony, screaming, loud, deafening. We were keen to push on and after realising the wind would not abate for several days we braced ourselves and went forward. It came predominantly from the side. A head wind would have been preferable, slow but safe.
I was filled with rage. A tight, raging bubble of anger. The second day of unrelenting gusts I did not know myself and this experience on a bicycle. They say the wind can do strange things to a person.
My teeth clenched, I fought with each revolution of the pedals to stay on course. As I deviated, primeval, guttural sounds bubbled from me. Face contorted I swore and even yelled occasionally. I looked up at the sky and exclaimed “stop it!” …..I knew I was not rational, it was a pointless and futile waste of energy. Energy I required to push on. Li agreed and soldiered on ignoring me.
So, yes I pushed on, we pushed on, and by the afternoon the gusts became less frequent. It became like riding in a vacuum. At times the wind came from behind or disappeared altogether. No more friction, a calm, dead calm and peace, with this my mood mirrored nature. I settled and reflected another experience, another part of myself and that the journey continues.

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