Last (BRECK) day.
The other day.

For Stage SIX of the BRECK EPIC there was miles and there were feet.
Distance and vertical I’m told.
Surely to hold trials, tribulations controlled by a medieval system of measure.

Updates of a (more) timely fashion, while obviously more appropriate, would not have reflected the intense (and debilitating) nature of STAGE SEVEN.
Five days the previous, the hangover is now subsiding.

Suffice to say.

I had a simple plan for that the final Stage.

A plan that would only be realized once I endured one final ride.  One last walk in the mountains.

While simple, that days plan should be unglamorous to the most.

In my minds eye I was not a mere stink of pulverized meat looking to get on with a more better drunk.

Through the benefit of my purely augmented reality, THIS is more the plan as I had in fact intended.

A plan I certainly would have realized if it were not for an altitudinally induced imbalance of the former…

The night ended.
Not with a whimper, but with cries of outrage and betrayal whence I was attacked by the pointy side of a mountain at the hand of the smallish man whom lived within it.

Surprised?
I am not.
Not entirely.
But I am also not totally certain.

Thanks be to 70% undiluted alcohol and devious plots, I may never know the truth.
Unless the truth is, I should not drink 70% undiluted alcohol.

In Other Matters:

DICKY FIEND Shirts will be available.
Limited on limited and priced accordingly.

DELSTALK and ANTIRACE posters have been approved and dispatched to print.
Too late for review mothers of children and spouses of all.

Enjoy your days.
You could fall, hit your head and die.