I appear to be cycling on the moon. That or in one of those paintings of Hell by Hieronymus Bosch. Huge volcanic mounds rising from a dead ocean of gnarled, blackened lava rock; a lunar-sea of rubble broken only by thin ribbons of silken tarmac which slide sinuously through the hellish terrain.
First impressions: if this is hell, then it’s got great roads to cycle on. Continue reading