This thing called the Bermondsey Beer Mile

Every serious beer drinker planning a trip to London will eventually happen upon the Bermondsey Beer Mile. Near as I can tell, the Bermondsey Beer mile exists because there's an elevated train dividing this area of London and if you were to patch up a hole between two of the supports for the elevated railway you would be left with a reasonably decent space to make beer [and except for the very frequent screeching noises from the above passing trains, a reasonably decent place to drink beer]. 

And that's how I stumbled across the London City Runners [I was going to write "literally" here because my kids say literally a lot and I thought it would be funny, but they don't read my blog and I was afraid I might tick off an English teacher friend or two. Apologies to my engineer friends who may already be offended with my discussion of railway arches in the previous paragraph]. Most appealing about the London City Runners (at least from their website): They don't just run drunkenly around the Beer Mile; they have a clubhouse/pub that might be open to the public. I'm not quite sure.

Unfortunately, I've been injured and haven't even attempted running in months. Do I show up at their pub and not run? Do I show up and run until it hurts, then walk back? Do I risk ruining the rest of the vacation by forcing myself through their shortest course, which my Strava now tells me was 7 km? 

I gave up not trying to look like a tourist and shot hundreds of pictures during the run. Here are a few: 

Back at the pub, Irish Beef was grilling up dinner. Apparently not a regular occurrence...something the Irish government does the same way the State of Wisconsin runs commercials to promote their cheese. I had to sign a waiver as they were filming...

I had at least one too many pints because these Irish guys were buying rounds and then I had to buy a round.

This is a Camden Pale Ale. The aforementioned Irish guys were trying to convince me to steal it, but I felt bad taking it from what I assume is a non-profit venture.

The long road home

I was going to meet friends at the Hawke's Bay Farmers' Market and then more friends in Auckland, but by Sunday morning, there is no denying that I have finally caught a southern hemisphere cold. I am hopelessly sick. I cancel all plans and load the rented tank with my bike and luggage.

I am struggling to stay awake on the windy drive to Taupo and elect to take a nap in the Huka Falls parking lot.

I stop again somewhere past Hamilton, where two horses are walking through town. I'm hours early for my flight. It's so much easier to sleep while driving than when stopped.

I had wanted to visit the Auckland Costco, but it's not particularly close to the airport, so I drive to the Sylvia Park Mall. It's probably not that big compared to a Mainland mall, but it's loud and crowded and I am overwhelmed. I have dinner at an In-N-Out knock off, which isn't at all terrible.

I have my own row on the next two flights, which makes trying to act not sick a little easier.