August 11, 2011
Meandering in pleasant countryside.
At the moment camping's a wet existants. My tent is superbly waterproof but still the floor gets wet from my carelessness such as rainwater dripping off my jacket or bag. Nor is there hanging clothes out to dry in this weather, instead after a wet day, I get into the sleeping-bag fully clothed. My body heat soon drys everything out, a kind of dried and pressed ready to set off in the rain again.
I hear the rip and the drum of it starting to rain. I move lethargically inside the tent thinking of the prospect of riding in the rain today too. It was still early when I had eaten yogurt and muesli and drank tea so I lay down again and listen to the rain, but after awhile the patter became less, so rising I unzipped the tent and look out to see that it wasn't raining as hard now. After all the rain always sounds worse underneath a roof.
I still hadn't any idea where I was as the canal, small wood where I'd camped and place called Bugden weren't marked on my map. I rode along a muddy single-track amongst the trees until a minor road which led narrowly uphill between rows of neat stone half timber houses, and up out upon an A road at the top into Whaley bridge which was on my map.
The morning remained fair but grey and my road entailed a few more minor hills then the landscape levelled leaving the hills behind. I had past from Derbyshire into the country of Cheshire which unlike the former with one village or town blending into the next on hilly rollercoaster road, now the road meandered over gentle dairy farming countryside with silage and dairy-detergent smells from farmyards and broadleaf trees lining the road.
I reached Macclesfield at ten o'clock and was on busy A roads with lots of roundabouts again. I wanted to reach a particular B road to take me onwards from the other side of town. Wanting to get off the busy ring-road, I follow my nose and turned off along a residential street and shortly see a Co-Op supermarket where I stop as I needed food. Inside as I walked along the aisle with a basket, a bored but nevertheless cheerful young woman stacking the shelves pipes up "you look lost luv" I replied that I am trying to eat while spending as little money as possible. "Hey, thats wat ay do duck" she smirked, she then proceeded to point things out, and would've perhaps told me her life-story if I had of waited, but, I put a can of beans, a can of tuna, a packet of biscuits, a bottle of water and bread in the basket and at the checkout it came to six pounds ninety. My total expenditure for that day.
It began drizzling rain, falling horizontally for something like half an hour. The rain eased off then and it brightened up with sun breaking through, and I could see and smell fields of ripe barley reminding me that it was Summer after all. The reprieve though lasted all of ten minutes and it was soon drizzling light horizontal rain again. It was then I saw the orange cape of another cyclist approaching. Another touring cyclist. He had two rear black Ortlieb panniers and no other baggage. I crossed over to meet the bike as it drew level. It was a joy to see another cyclist and his opening words reflected the emotion "It's nice to see someone like me"; said slow and deliberately in a Mancunian accent. He was a man about sixty and had a rough brown face which said he'd spent many years somewhere though not England with a lot of sunshine. He said he was cycling home to Manchester and that Cheshire is his favour country for cycling. He also told me about the Shropshire and Union canal where he'd camped last night and said that it continued into North Wales which maybe useful for me. We chatted more then bid each other farewell and rode our separate ways.
The nice rural roads with soft light rain coming from the side continued into the early afternoon when I rode into a town where the rain got heavy while making my way through traffic trying to find the way ahead out of town. It was then I saw the first blue "National Cycleway 5" sign which led me to a motorway slip-road where I halted. I had missed a turn as it was hard to see in the rain. I retrace the road back and found the Cycleway 5 sign I'd rode by, it directed me along a residential street leading out along a country lane, and following blue signs at crossings of paths they led along the edge of ploughed fields, a canal towpath and eventually the Weavey river which led toward Wimslow.
Later I had pitch the tent on what looked to be a public park by the river. An open grassy area, shortly cropped over much of it making it ideal to camp, between the trees of the riverbank. While comfortable in out of the rain, I could hear passing Dog walker every so often call their dogs back from my tent. I had a long evening before dark to read and write the diary. I finished off writing as I wished, it has stopped raining and tomorrow may just be a better day.
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