I knew it would be cold this morning, but once I'd unzipped and braved the outside of my warm cocooned sleeping-bag, it is a shock to find the flysheet frozen stiff and the outside white. Though in an hour it takes to breakfast and pack the panniers, the fly has thawed, whether by the heat of my Trangia stow, my breath or rays of sunshine: the bright morning seemingly has warmed the frosty air somewhat that my bare hands when taking down the tent don't feel that nip on gripping the metal poles or nylon tent material; both chef heat conductors drawing the heat from the fingers.

On the long descent to town I get colder and colder: the cold nips the fingers through the Lobster gloves. Damp patches on the road I approach gingerly, as they look like black-ice. I meet a hardy bunch of brightly coloured red and white racing cyclists heading up from town. My feet though remain bearable, as it is a gradual descent necessitating pedalling.

Down in town I pass a Pharmacy green-cross sign showing the temperature: plus one. I'm glad to reach a café on a corner, which looks a good place as there's lots of people inside, so I lean the bike against the window and take my front left pannier containing the netbook and bar-bag into the warmth. Most of the seats are taken and lots of café-goers crowd round a bar where I order a cappuccino and a large au raisin and return down to the one remaining table by the curtained window. There's some kind of pop top forty hits show on the TV. The sight of U2 on stage is enough to put me off looking, so I concentrate on uploading photos and having a look at this site. Later I catch the waitress' attention and order a second cappuccino and another pastry, then ask for the bill, which is three euros seventy when it comes: cheap for what is a second breakfast.

I was for a small white road east on the map, but in reality fail to see it signposted, as the road signs draw me north on autovia CL631, passing through an interchange beneath the autopista and continue on north up a gradual incline towards brown hills and mountains beyond where thick cloud descends. The bright morning having reduced to a pallor of dull cloud leaden sky.

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It begins spitting rain on and off after crested the incline on the steady run down into a narrow valley through the first of the hills. It feel pretty raw and I can see snow well down the slope on the mountain ahead.

Around twelve thirty I descend to Toreno and am glad to see a Dia on the way into town; timely, as it would close at one o'clock for the weekend; also, to be in shelter a while as I spend time putting enough in the basket to see me through to Monday.

The rain having stopped I sit on a bench outside and lunch on salami inside a baguette, not wanting to eat sardines for a third day in a row. I have two cans in the pannier as a reserve. I eat up quickly, wanting to get moving again to generate heat.

In town the road levels out, then the way ahead is gradual uphill through a tight valley with the Sil below on the right. The rain drizzling down as I pass through small places of a few houses and larger villages with a sooty smell of solid fuel lingering in the grey gloom; also pass old coal mines: concrete hulks with broken windows, caked in grime.

As dusk encroaches the rain stops for good and the cloud lifts far enough off the mountains ahead to reveal a fresh fall of snow in a halo of late sunlight.

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I have a craving for beer and crisps as I approach Villablino; thinking as it is a large town, there'd be some place open to at least six on Saturday, but find a Gadis already shut, as is another supermercado in the street a little way along; so resign to the fact that I'll be doing without treats and decide to ride on out of town, the streets of which go on for a few kilometres and it is dark when I finally pass through the last built up street out on road C626; which, has a minimal shoulder and with a car passing regularly, I feel vulnerable riding in the dark even with lights and a hi-vis vest. I have to get off quickly. When I come to the opening to an old disused railway alongside on the right, I wheel the bike down determine to make do with whatever spot I find. But no fears as a short way along the track, both railway and parallel road cross a rushing mountain stream and I find a perfect spot in along the bank by the bridge.