So soon after Tuesday's day off the bike in Egilsstadir, I didn't need or want another day of no cycling, but stepping out the door of the campsite's kitcken after I'd eaten breakfast, it began raining. And continued raining when I returned to the tent. Looking out, the clouds had closed in and there didn't look to be an end to the rain; so, I took the computer and went down to the café. When paying for coffee, with guarentteed refills all day if I liked, the woman behind the counter said "the coffee's over there" pointing to the bench with thermos, cups and a small carton of milk, "drink the whole thing if you like. There's nothing much else you can do today" referring to the wet weather out.

This early all the custommers were local, boat workers and a policeman sat around one table chatting. Then later the place filled up with other traveliers as nothing much could be done as the rain poured down outside all morning. At midday two motor bikes with silver panniers and dry bags on top passed and pulled to a halt and soon the bikers were in the café too with wet jackets on the back of chairs. People around the other tables began ordering lunch of Hamburgers and fish and chips, and soon, when I couldn't stand no more updating this journal for the day, I ordered fish and chips too.

The rain didn't ease until five o'clock and fog meant I couldn't see beyond the harbour where I took a brief walk. It didn't look much different than any other harbour village with the smell of fish and stacks of plastic crates by the quay and a bouting marina. When I returned to the campsite, I discovered I'd a drainage problem. I'd a poodle to one side inside the tent. I hadn't used all the guy-ropes and the water had collected in a poodle on the edge of the fly-sheet and had seeped in. I will know the next time it rains but for the moment I'd a lot of drying out to do.