Route 303

A night rider often rides alone. The posse waits until dawn before it charges west in pursuit. Riding in the heat of the day is asking for trouble. And when the route is blocked, tempers rage. Things get nasty.

We travelled at night. Where by day the way west would be hard and slow as the road funnels through endless bottlenecks, no bottle's neck would slow our progress. It was surreal, as silhouetted to our right, the mighty Stonehenge seemed mighty small, as twilight brought it down to size.

We sped on, the stones on the plain now just history.