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fire station

We are riding on a uninspired stretch of highway at dusk considering our camping options in a world of pervading dampness when we pass a shiny red fire truck parked on the opposite side of the road. Touring cyclists have a long association with fire stations but none of us have tried asking for accommodation in one before. We decide the best approach is simply asking the firemen if they know of any good camp sites in the area. The guys don’t hesitate for a second.

“Come and stay with us!”

Their only concern is that the station is in a small community off the main highway but we reassure them that getting off the highway is always a joy to us, especially as we won’t need to backtrack to rejoin it again further south. That settled we make our way to the fire station.

These guys are clearly inordinately proud of their fire station.

All ready to go in the face of emergency.

I desperately wanted to try the pole but I didn't want to leave finger-prints on the shiny brass.

There is a room full of comfy beds for us to choose from...

With artfully arranged... themed toys.

The building is brand new and spacious but continuity with the past has been maintained with antique equipment dotting the expansive spaces.

Tom and Sarah enjoy a cup of tea in the kitchen.

And after we are fed we retire downstairs to attend the endless requirements of bike and equipment maintenance. I am trying to somewhat waterproof my frame bags with the application of silicone while Tom mends a puncture in the back ground. (Photo: Sarah Hedges)

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