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I CAN'T REMEMBER when it last rained. But it rained today on the long climb across the mountain range north of Sofia. I say "long climb" but the road went up and down, mostly up, before settling in to the real rise to the summit. In all, take away the time needed to escape from the suburban cling of Sofia and the climbing went on all day and hadn't finished by the time I stopped.

I tell you all this for context. Because on one of the short descents, going round an innocent right curve, the rain had brought up oil from the road and my back wheel slid away on an adverse camber. The surface was so very slippery that I and the bike crossed the entire road until we ended up just short of the grass verge on the other side.

It was a scaring moment, as you can imagine. It shook me up even though damage came to no more than a grazed knee and hip and a ruined paid of leg-warmers. In material terms, it was worse for a Czech guy called Dimitre who stopped his car so smartly to allow me free passage across his bows that the driver behind crashed into his stern.

The funny thing was picking myself up and noticing that a bar end had dropped on to the road. It became important I retrieve it. I picked it up before collecting the rest of the bike and placing it on the grass. You never know whether life will afford you another bar end...

When I got going again, self-mockery made the best of the situation. What was that song that played in my mind? Ah, yes, got it now. A children's rhyme..

This is the way

The old men ride:

Hobble-dee, hobble-dee...

And down into a ditch.

I'd climbed 1 259 metres before I called it a day. I was just short of the 1 400m contour and darkness was falling prematurely. I had lost the will to ride any further. I turned on to a forest trail and pitched beneath a dark, cold canopy of pines. The carpet of fallen needles was soggy. It became soggier. Within moments thunder crashed and the rain came down in a fury. It was perfect weather for sitting in a tent and feeling sorry for yourself.