After all the climbing yesterday and the long distance covered too, Is feeling stiff and out of sorts this morning. Furthermore, before even moving, I heard rain drum on the tent's taut fly. I remained put, and if Is to move today, it would have to be a short recovery day. The rain came down like a rolling rumble on a drum and I could here the splosh of cars passing on the nearby road, and then it stopped raining. Eventually at around about ten o'clock, it looked to be drying off, with a ray of sunshine through a break in the grey sky, so I set about packing, striking camp and setting off.

There was a steep descend back down to Glossop in which a courier van cut me up, turning left across my path while arrogantly honking the horn as if he's more right to the road than me. The road out of Glossop then was unsurprisingly another moderately steep long climb on a busy A road were cars past me too closely. Descending again to where the road bottomed out to face the next steep incline, I'd the choice of turning left on a less busy B road which, when I turned on to it, was only a little less busy, but after a few miles led to a place called New Mills. It stroke me as a typical Northern town with a street that goes uphill, stone facade terrace houses, and a tall redbrick factory chimney, against a backdrop of steep hills which the cloud was now closing in on and it looked like rain again.

Riding up hill through town, I saw a Fish & Chips shop opposite and checking my watch saw that it was half past twelve, so decided that it was time for lunch. I had to wait though what seemed like ages for a gap in the traffic in order to cross to that side of the road. As I sat inside eating a kebab, I looked out at the rain coming on, lightly at first, then heavier. I didn't care much now for cycling on on a road which was dangerous enough when dry. I looked out on the grey gloom and hiss and spray of vehicle wheels passing in the wet street outside. It wasn't going to be nice, but I clinched my teeth against the cold of inaction and returned out, where after getting the bike safely back across the street continued up on the pavement.

I cycle up the street until it turned onto a busier road at the top. There was no way I could continue in this rain on this road, but on the way up the street, I had crossed over a canal, so I doubled back to it and found the way down to the tow-path. A much safer place to cycle today.

I had no idea where it led to. I saw occupants on one of the many house boats moored up and asked. The man said to a place called Bugsden about a mile further on. I asked was there any place to camp and he said there was a public house there by the lock and a large green area where it maybe possible to camp. The pub when I reached it was called "The Navigator" and the green by the lock was a bit too public, but the tow-path continued as a path into a wooded area, in to which I cycled and found a sheath campsite which although not great would have to do in the circumstances. But as it was only two o'clock, I didn't set up camp yet preferring to return to The Navigator. Is wet and my hands were numb when I Lent the bike up outside the pub where Is glad to get inside. Is the only customer to begin with. The barman said it was to be much like today when I asked about tomorrow's weather forecast. I think this is the third forecast I've heard in as many days and all three are different. I past a couple of hours there supping a pint and reading my book with Cricket on television in the background, or, it was suppose to be on but was rained off.