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It was raining when we set off, still heading north to Holmfirth, well known of course as home of 'Last of the summer wine'. It was mostly closed when we got there except for the CO-OP. After lunch Bert went to visit a friend in Huddersfield. Calum and I tried to find our way through the smaller roads over the hills of Meltham. I thought this was pretty bad, not exactly Strines Road material but very tiring but then we tackled the climb from Slaithwaite to the A640. No serious gradients are implied on the map but this is energy sapping stuff. The road which is supposed to pass under the motorway is signposted as 'No through route'. In fact it is a perfectly good road for cyclists. In due course we reached Sowerby Bridge and opted for the off road route along the canal. Although the surface was extremely poor for cycling we did not have far to go and enjoyed being away from the traffic. The only trouble is, how do you know when to turn off. We tried a couple of exits when the canal was near the road but there was nothing to tell us where we were.

So at last I have found a use for satellite navigation. We did eventually find the correct exit, since it involved carrying heavy pannier laden bikes up a steep narrow stone stair case it was not one we would have found without asking for directions. Mankinholes Youth Hostel was right up on the hillside of the southern valley slope. A big old stone house with the best drying room I have seen for many a year. Alan was there and Bert arrived soon after and Calum's brother Euan came to join us for dinner. The warden was at a party over the road and since the hostel was supposed to be closed it was quite quiet. We walked across the field at night to the only pub and had a quiet couple of pints.

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Another day another climb and today the first of the day started at Hebden Bridge and headed out on to Wadsworth Moor. This time quite long but not too steep and for the first time there were four of us. We had to skirt Keighly and be careful not to get on any of the busiest road but were pretty successful. Up till now our pace had stuck at around 10mph and we were all quite happy with that. But today we were picking up speed. Calum wondered if we were showing off in front of Alan, perhaps we were trying to break Alan's spirit on his first day. I hadn't noticed the change of pace, all I knew was that we were heading for Skipton and I wanted to get there before the pies were sold out.

Calum being a vegetarian couldn't understand our rapture at tasting the freshest, juiciest, most porky of all pork pies. Once again we were not let down. Of course we stayed too long, ate too many pies and then had to tear ourselves away to head up the road towards Linton. We were really keen to stay there, once again this was a hostel under threat but it was not open that night.

We pressed on to Kettlewell, another fine hostel and on the way Alan broke a spoke. Now I did mention that this was his first day didn't I. A broken spoke already! Well incredible as it may seem we arrived at the hostel slightly before it opened so Alan was able to cope with the broken spoke situation before the doors even opened.

This hostel has been 'improved'. What this appears to mean is that the excellent member's kitchen has been demolished and replaced by a tiny, inadequate cooking area with a small number of tiny pans. This must be 'improved' taken from the special YHA dictionary. We were now in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, Calum was overwhelmed by the scenery and this also meant we were in 'Black Sheep' territory. We wasted no time in making our way to a pub and Bert (rather unwisely I thought) has three and a half pints of Riggwelter, that's the extra strong ale from the Black Sheep brewery.

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We slept extremely well, I didn't notice Alan's snoring at all. After a good breakfast we headed up the dale past Buckden and past The George. Our friend once made a long detour on a walking holiday to visit this pub and as far as I can remember it was closed when he got there. It was too early for us so we carried on up the stiff climb made more difficult by a strengthening northerly wind. It didn't look like summer anymore but then why should it? It was June and England and so the weather was about right. By the time we reached the summit the views had long since disappeared and it was too cold to hang around so we whizzed down to Hawes. Now the Wensleydale Creamery is on this road just a mile or so outside of the village. Since we had Bakewell Tart in Bakewell we had to have some Wensleydale cheese in Wensleydale. Calum and I did the shopping then we made our way slowly to the foot of the Buttertubs Pass. Now this was a hill I've done in both directions several times and if I meet any cyclists from the Huddersfield area I will whole heartedly recommend it as a 'classic'. We were doing it in the easy direction, maximum gradient 16% but it is still a long slog. It was much too cold to hang around at the top so while the others looked at the rock formations Calum and I headed to the teashop in Muker. Alan and Bert arrived soon after. By the time we set off down the dale it was clear that our bodies (or was it our minds?) had had enough. We had arranged to rendezvous at the Black Bull in Reeth for a pint (no pub at Grinton Lodge) but Bert thought we meant The Bridge at Grinton so we ended up missing our pint and meeting up again at Grinton Lodge Youth Hostel. Calum and I cooked the dinner.

• Starter, a selection of Wensleydale cheeses with crackers and stuffed olives.
• Main course, Spaghetti Bolognese and garlic bread.
• Pudding, suet pudding with raisins and dream topping.