Saturday p.m.
The trip back down (and up, and down) is taken at a slightly brisker pace having noted nothing too scary on the way to the observatory. On stopping at the first proper intersection back in civilisation to pick up some after-sun I note the distinctive smell of burnt brake-pads. Well at least I don’t have to pay for them 🙂
Saturday evening I decide to wander to the local establishment that resembles a pub (that doesn’t also claim ginyouine oirish descent) and sup a few Sam Adams. Kept being amused by the presence of a particular beer on tap CzechVar in a distinctive red on white type. Enjoy explaining to a couple of bemused Americans that their country is almost the only one in the world where that particular brew is named as such.