So says John Muir, and he's not wrong - my last few weeks have been spent in cahoots with the delights of the wilds and I cannot say I am unaffected.
I left Portland on a dreary Sunday morning, feeling like I'd had too much beer and not enough sleep. I actually didn't have very much beer at all, but because I indulge so rarely in anything with alcoholic content these days it hits my cycling-specific system a little harder than perhaps it should. And three hours sleep never did anyone any good. But I'd had a blast in Portland and experimented with a regular lifestyle for a day or two, so the trade off was fair.