
It’s late…I should have written this way before, but at times I was busy and at times just lazy but this post has always been on my mind. I met an amazing family, happiest and friendliest a group can get to a stranger. Emma invited me for a dinner with her folks. We had an amazing time, listened to music and talked till late at night. The whole bunch was friendly and throughout the night, not even for a second, made me feel like an outsider. I was so happy to have met them. In the morning I said goodbye, we took a few pictures together and I left to cycle another day. I have been following them on Facebook, every post I see, reminds me of their amazing nature and the fantastic evening I spent among them. At the end of the next day, I was cycling to a camping ground in the middle of Snowdonia National Park. I was on top of a mountain and the campsite was in the valley. I was coming down and suddenly the front wheel of my bike went over a bump on the road, for which there was no sign around. I lost control and went rolling down. A big chunk of my helmet came out and my elbow started bleeding real bad. I took out my water bottles, washed the wound and then wrapped it up with the bandages in my first aid kit. I lifted up my bike with extreme difficulty, just to find out that handlebar was completely turned around. I fixed it and cycled down the remaining hill, to the campsite. A kind woman at the campsite took me to a nearby hospital and then from there I was taken to Bangor to a bigger hospital in an ambulance.

I stayed in the hospital for three days. The doctor told the nurse to dispatch me the next day but this is what she said to me ‘they told me to dispatch you but I’m not gonna do that. If I do that, I know you will go back and sleep in your tent tonight and it’s raining. I’m not gonna let that happen.’ I nearly cried when I heard that. It felt so lively after an accident, and to hear that in a country I wasn’t born in was so heart-warming. They despatched me once I was able to move my arm without support. I went back to the campsite. It started raining again and my bike was standing under a tree, it was there for the last three days, nobody moved it. Everything got wet. I stayed at the site for another three days to take some rest and let the wound heal. I met Stephen there. He was headed to the coast for surfing. We talked for some time, shared a beer and he drove me to Ffestiniog, to help me get food for the night. There was no place to get cheap food around the camp, and he dropped me back before driving off to the sea.

After three days I cycled to Mold. Even though it was my first day, cycling after the injury, I cycled 42 miles of the most difficult path in my whole journey. The campsite I reached that evening was beautiful and wide open. I was kinda relieved to have left the Welsh national park and curious to discover more of this beautiful country.

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