I try to convince myself that I'm totally capable of riding in today's weather but, even before I've made it to the first of my detours (a Confucian Temple in downtown Qu recommended by a TikTok follower) I'm pretty sure that I'm not okay with today's weather. Given that the biggest problem isn't so much the cold as it is the mizzle, I'll admit that I could have put a couple more layers on (or my poncho) and managed it, but I just don't want to. This is the kind of the weather where nothing photographs beautifully and the damp gets into my camera and causes it to start throwing error messages and I'm either sweating like a pig because I'm wearing a poncho, or I'm on the verge of hypothermia.

I don't love these temperatures but, if it weren't wet, I could handle these temperatures. These temperatures and wet? Yeah, no.

I'm less than thrilled with the Confucian Temple. Not because it isn't interesting (cause it is) but because they kick me out for their long lunch break twenty minutes after I've come in (and with barely any time to look at anything) and no one, not even the person who I specifically asked "hey, can I park my valuable bike with all my luggage on it next to you?", thinks that maybe, they should come and get me before they leave their desk by the entrance.

I mean, yeah, it was still there. But, it might not have been. And, if I'd known I was leaving my bike somewhere that someone might leave it completely unattended, I'd've at least pulled the pedals off.

Bus station round one is discovered to be the wrong station. It's a temporary station and, I think, only for the unscheduled mid-distance coaches. Round two is a fancy modern affair where I'll spend the next two hours and change waiting as I've arrived after the last of the morning coaches to Guang'an.

On the bus, despite having peed before getting on board, the combination of constant shsss shss noise of dribbling water and weather cold enough that I'm not sweating means that I've got to ask the driver to pull over for a mid trip bathroom break that's one of those times where you're all like "I swear I didn't put this much fluid in, how is so much coming out?"

In Guang'an, I decide the easiest way to handle hotel matters is to use Trip.com. Although I get a room near the bus station, it's near in taxi terms. It's also near the other bus station on the far side of town. The uphill side of town. On the plus side, since it's all very uphill, I don't get cold until a TikTok fan flags me down by the side of the road to talk to me.

With crossed fingers, I skip the "visiting the police station" stage of tonight's lodging cause two of the three times I've tried that in a city, the police station closest to the hotel wasn't the police station whose jurisdiction the hotel was in. Perhaps because it was a hotel booked on Trip, or perhaps simply because I've gotten the luck of the draw, the front desk absolutely doesn't care about my being a foreigner, nor do I think they informed anyone that I was around. At the very least, no one called or came by my room to ask me questions.