Our brother in law runs marathons. He also does triathlons, you know, a hundred miles swimming on your back followed by many more on a bike sitting on a saddle designed by a masochist. Then I think you run the last bit. Actually, maybe they're all masochists.
He's also a regular participant in Yorkshire's Swaledale marathon. Talk about up hill and down dale. Twenty six miles of misery. Usually in the pouring rain. It wasn't always an organised marathon for masochists. I believe it started life as just normal Yorkshiremen going to town avoiding the bus fare.
All of which is a long way to say he's pretty fit. And has the short arms and deep pockets of a true Yorkshireman......who lives in Aberdeen, when he's not posted to Malaysia.
Jonathan had a significant birthday so we braved the Covid express all the way down to Penang to help him celebrate....... being old. Ha ha.
Now, while we've been exercising rigorously and indeed vigorously, for the last nine months, climbing Penang Hill, all eight hundred and twenty seven metres of it, was a bit of an acid test. 6 1/2 km straight up and 6 1/2 straight down, feet slippin around in yer flip flops from the sweat pouring off your back.
The lesson of the day is don't go walking with a Yorkshireman when there is a perfectly serviceable 50 Ringgit taxi service to the top.
29,358 steps and 278 flights of stairs if anyone's interested and us booked into an hotel with no elevator.
And so, we toughed it out until midnight, if you can call, scallops seared in ginger with caviar, Cod and Wagyu beef "toughing" it, rang in the bells and crawled up the stairs on our hands and knees to bed.
ex dinghy and keelboat racers now tooled up with a super sleek cat and still cruising around aimlessly, destination Nirvana...
Extra:
Next up....the Caribbean. We've left South Africa in our wake and now off to Namibia, St Helena, Brazil, Suriname and into the Caribbean. Well, that' the vague plan. We'll see what happens.