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Headed up the hill out of Welsh Bicknor, pushing the bikes as no energy to cycle uphill so early. The rain was present as normal, but it was getting to the stage where I hardly noticed it. Cycled through Ross-on-Wye, and after 20 miles we got to Hereford. Bert was unimpressed that we had to stop to find a BCQ, and we wandered around the city centre for quite a while looking for Calum and said 

BCQ, before then also choosing to stop for an early lunch. Bert went off to get chips, which sat on his stomach for the rest of the day, whilst we sat outdoors at a café making the most of the spot of sunshine that had momentarily appeared. 

Leaving Hereford, Bert & I decided to head along the main road, as the country lanes in the rain didn’t appeal. We arrived in Leominster slightly before the other two and hunted out a suitable shop for the evening meal purchases. We continued along, quite high up, and battled a strong headwind all the way to Clun. It slowed me right down, and I reasoned I didn’t have as much power to battle against it because I’m a bit smaller than the boys. Bert cycled with me, eventually giving up on telling me to ‘tuck in’, because I was losing him within seconds my speed was so slow. We got to Clun Mill YHA shortly after the others, at about 7:40pm. 

All of us were shattered. We didn’t even take any photos today (apart from the BCQ and Wyatt Road..?!). The boys told me that this was definitely the worst it could get, and things would be easier from here. The stairs were excessively steep up to my dorm. I was in a room that was already full apart from my top bunk, with no storage space anywhere, so I set about balancing all my belongings in one very high, thin pile to fit the available floor space. Calum got straight to cooking, but couldn’t find the soup, and the kitchen was really busy. The boys were in a dorm with the man and boy LEJOG combo, and some ramblers from Wales who wanted to wake up with the sunrise. We eventually sat down to eat a lovely meal (with soup) at the long wooden table, then shared the small bottle of red wine that had made it’s way from Welsh Bicknor before I headed up to bed for much needed sleep.

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Woke up to a lovely sunny day and had breakfast with great views from the hostel front door. There was a lovely atmosphere in this hostel, and I think I was the youngest person staying in it. All the women in my dorm were really impressed with what I was doing and wanted me to use their posh moisturisers / shampoos and so on as a kind of bizarre YHA pampering treat; they had clearly told the men they were with about me, as in the morning everybody was chatting about our quest while donning their hiking footwear – it was very encouraging and lovely to be waved off by a bunch of exuberant strangers! 

We headed north, and after a confusing stop instigated by Bert who was trying to warn of a car, but instead caused the boys to pull off the road into a layby, the score changed to 3-1. Bert forgot to decleat. Pulled off the route to go to Bishop’s Castle, where a BCQ sat at the top of a very steep hill on the high street, covered by signage. We also discovered the Three Tuns brewery with pub attached, which the boys were all very impressed with. 

Cycled along some lovely country lanes as we began to head towards my home county of Cheshire, enjoying our first day with no rain and dry feet and shoes… until we hit the flood! As we cycled around a bend mid-morning, the road ahead of us resembled more of a canal than a road, and we came to a swift stop to examine the prospects. It stretched as far as the eye could see, snaking off round another bend in the distance. Half way along the stretch we could see, a red traffic cone was part submerged, warning passersby that here was a flood. Bert went first, pedals and feet submerged with each rotation, and disappeared around the corner. 

Silence. The three of us remaining looked at each other. After a pause, Calum decided that he would go next, but was stopped in the nick of time and advised to remove his front panniers, which would have travelled underwater had they remained in situ. A car arrived and looked at the scene, as did another cyclist. Bert appeared around the bend on foot, causing us to come to the conclusion that the water dissipated on the bend, and I set off, pedalling against the water and madly hoping I wouldn’t lose my balance. 

Needless to say, as I approached the bend I discovered the water continued, and Bert had waded back ankle deep in order to take photos! The car reversed, the other cyclist came through, followed by Calum and finally Arthur, who cleverly cycled using one foot and thereby keeping one dry foot for the rest of the day. Stopped in Baschurch after cycling through numerous towns that had no cafés, and bought a sandwich from a newsagents. Sat on the corner of a road with shoes and socks off, trying to dry them in the sun, before continuing on our way. 

We eventually found a café bar in Ellesmere (not Ellesmere Port!), and sat outside for coffee (or tea) and cakes – I got to sample the cakes before choosing  Bert and I snuck off to do a BCQ, and after the owner of the bar told us the best way to get to Chester by car, we carried on along our planned route. 

When we got to a place that sounded suspiciously like chocolate, Bert and Arthur headed off to Stretton Water Mill to do a BCQ, whilst Calum and I continued along the more direct route to Chester with the plan to meet them a few miles on. After sitting on yet another corner for a while, Calum once again with his shoes off to further aid the drying process, we received a phone call from Arthur to tell us his location. “What are you doing way over there?” were Calum’s words, as he studied the map. We got back on our bikes and headed off to a new meeting point, and after some extreme undulations, arrived in Chester. The boys all cycled past the backpackers, but I spotted it and stopped, and eventually the others stopped too! We had a lovely double room and twin room on the top floor, both ensuite, and after showering my mum and dad arrived with fresh clothes for me and Bert. We did a swap before heading into town for a supersize roast at Wetherspoons. Managed to sneak in the final BCQ of the day before Bert bought chocolate and we headed off to bed ready for another early start. 

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The team were awakened by Calum’s panic thud from the top bunk to the alarm, and we were on the road (or canal path) before 8am to get to Birkenhead for the ferry ‘cross the Mersey. Did the 21 mile dash in good time, enjoying the cycle through the Wirral despite the rain, and even managed to make time for scrambled eggs and coffee before hopping on the 10:40 crossing. I felt very positive that I’d kept up with the boys so well – I must really be improving – this was getting easy! Calum was disappointed he didn’t have time for the U-Boat museum, and I was disappointed that they only played a tiny snatch of ‘the song’, having brushed up on the words in anticipation. Our disappointments were lightened as we watched the wonder of Liverpool loom, with the impressive Liver building, two cathedrals and Albert Dock on the rainy skyline. 

We emerged into Liverpool in full wet rain, so Arthur donned his cape and matching codpiece while we did a quick BCQ. 

Headed up the road to the hole in the wall that joined the canal path. Almost immediately we had to go over a narrow lock bridge that Calum got stuck on between his panniers, scraping his legs! Arthur came to my rescue and having got his own bike over, came back for mine, which Bert also then came back for meaning I could go over empty-handed. I was going to say it was good to play on my femininity sometimes, but actually, there was no way I could have gotten the bike up the steps and over the bridge on my own! The canal path through Bootle seemed to go on forever, in the rain, crossing the canal several times on slippery cobble stone bridges, having our bones rattled on the uneven surface, and constantly being ever so slightly afraid of falling in the water. Came off at Netherton and carried on along roads to Ormskirk, where we ended up eating in a Subway and listening to Bob Marley (live the dream Calum!). The rain stopped and sun came out, but the full wet morning had caused us to drip large puddles on the floor by our seats. After Calum’s excitement had died down, we sat in our usual silence, eating our food. I discovered that the hand dryer in the toilet was a good tool to shoot warm air up my sleeves and help me to dry off a tiny bit. 

The roads towards Preston were dry, and after finding suitable hedges (for the boys) and tree (for me), we joined a railway line that took us to a steep bank into a park on the edge of the city. The heavens had opened again, and we sat under a shelter in the park eating cakes, feeling pretty tired, and watching the full wet clean our bikes. It was 5:30pm and we still had almost 25 miles to go. 

Cycling through the city centre I discovered that guide dogs are not trained to cross the road around bicycles. It was really interesting to see a dog lead it’s owner directly into the middle of our little line of bikes, causing those of us at the back to swerve to avoid them both. 

Followed a well signposted cycle route through Preston and crossed the M6 before hitting the hills on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales. I was too tired by this point of the day to appreciate the hills, though the views were absolutely stunning. C&A stopped to wait for us at Whitewell, and I cycled past without even having the energy to smile; my eyes kept wanting to close and I felt like a robot, blindly pushing one foot down after the other in a bid to keep going and get to the end. I also had a really sore stomach, which was making pedalling difficult. As they caught up and overtook again, Bert suggested they go ahead to the Hark to Bounty to order food, which stopped serving at 8pm. Calum took up the challenge, and rushed on ahead, while I plodded on in my daze, trying to stay awake and upright. 

Going up one hill, Bert called ahead and suggested I stop and walk up if that would be easier. Following his suggestion I stopped dead in my tracks. Bert, directly behind me, was stuck in his cleats. 4-1. 

After a short altercation, I burst into tired tears and we walked up the hill together. At the top, the headwind was so strong that I must have been cycling at about 2 miles per hour. Bert kept telling me to ‘tuck in’ behind him, but I couldn’t keep up, so just resigned myself to arriving in Slaidburn at midnight. Tomorrow I would definitely go home. My parents were in easy striking distance. 

We made it to Slaidburn by about 7:40, to find Calum, exhausted and dizzy and not in the pub. He had arrived at 7:20 to discover the pub served until 9pm, so there was no need to choose meals for us all. Arthur had arrived at 7:30pm. The boys must have seen my exhausted, despondent face, as they mustered up the energy to reassure me that today was the worst possible day, and it would get much easier from here. The nice man in the YHA informed us that the hostel was quiet that night, so Bert and I could have the honeymoon suite. A rainbow at the end of a hard day! I held back a second lot of tears when I discovered it was just a dorm like all the others, with the exception that there were only the two of us in it. 

We showered really quickly and got to the pub in good time to order delicious food and lashings of beer and cider. The two-pint limit was cancelled with the delirium of the day’s exhaustion. Even the silence was cancelled, and we chatted through the evening about memories of cycling trips gone by and the hardships of the day’s journey. As we tottered back across the village lane to the hostel, in the quiet, rain-free evening, it almost felt like a holiday once again.

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After beans for breakfast (my plan to improve my sore tummy) and a hasty re-route to avoid some of the day’s hills (Deep Dale), we set off from Slaidburn in dry weather to head straight up Catlow Fell. This was a 12-mile hill that took us two hours to climb. I did a mixture of walking and cycling. Bert cycled all the way, but stopped for plenty of photos and to keep me company. C&A cycled the lot. 

They waited for us near the top, but thinking they were miles ahead, we stopped just around the bend for a break, about two minutes from them! Going down the other side was bliss – especially as the whole road was in view before you so you could even plan for oncoming cars and make the most of the down. It was great to knock up some miles with a bit more speed. When we got to High Bentham, C&A were waiting for us at a pub at the top of a steep hill, so we stopped for some lunch; quickly migrating indoors to avoid the full wet rain. We met a Dutch couple here who were also doing LEJOG, and I felt in good company when I discovered she had really struggled with the hills. Though she did have the excuse of being from the flattest land on earth… 

Calum did a quick shop for the evening meal, while we all donned our waterproofs and capes to head out in to the full wet afternoon. We headed along many strongly undulating roads, and I was pleased to point Calum in the right direction after he had missed a turning. We eventually came around to the M6, and after going underneath it were faced with a MASSIVE hill up the other side. I soon discovered the beans hadn’t helped, and my stomachache meant every rotation of the pedals was agony. For the first time, I really couldn’t be bothered that I couldn’t keep up with the boys, and I part cycled, part walked up the huge long slog to Shap summit, feeling really annoyed about my stomach and slightly defiant with life! As I made the decision to take my time, I found myself talking to the sheep by the side of the road, who were looking as dejected as I was feeling. I caught myself, wondering if I was actually beginning to lose it, and resolved that there would be no more chit chat. 

When I finally got to the summit, the boys were all standing shivering in the wind waiting for me, and we continued along the way down a lovely road that dropped back down to the motorway. Arthur was really happy to tell me that he’d found a more direct route to Shap, missing Orton, that actually went up between the northbound and southbound carriageways of the M6! My excitement dampened within seconds, as I looked across in the general direction he was waving in, and realised that even though we’d just done Shap summit, we were evidently nowhere near Shap. I could see the road winding through the motorway in the distance, so I continued on my way, hating every rotation, and thinking if tomorrow was like this I’d be going home. 

When we finally got there, it was kind of cool to be cycling up the centre of the motorway, and we even had a little photo session to mark the occasion! Suddenly it seemed like fun to see so many cars zooming past us. After traversing the M6, we went up some more hills and then, after bringing up the rear all day, I took the lead down the last big hill (with a slight panicky feeling as I discovered my brakes were no longer very effective) before turning into Shap. We found the New Ing Lodge Independent Hostel at about 7:30pm, up the road on the right, and after depositing the bikes and taking off our wet shoes (yes – it was raining again), were shown up to our room on the top floor. The boys reassured me that this was the worst day possible, and it would all get easier from here. 

It was a lovely hostel, large spacious room, small kitchen on our floor and two bathrooms just along our hallway with super warm powerful showers! Calum set to cooking with rather limited facilities, whilst Bert and I bought some lovely local bottled beer from the bar on the ground floor, along with some vino for me. Ate broccoli and were pleased to have some green veggies, though Calum was a bit miffed that everything took so long to boil on the tiny hob. Meanwhile Arthur received phone calls from both Alan (who reported that the weather next week would be really good), and then Robert (who reported that the weather next week – in Scotland – was going to be pretty wet). We were unmoved by this more damning report. What was a bit more rain between friends? 

We eventually turned in after the boys had sampled most of the local beers available (between them) and I’d supped a bit of wine. Having shared a few rooms by now, the boys were all terrified of going to the toilet in the night, because they knew that I would wake up and have yet another sleepless night and so be annoyed… again! After lights out, all was silent… for a while. Calum was up first (reporting the next day that he was lying in bed thinking ‘oh no, I need the loo’ in his Scottish accent, before mustering the courage to go). A while later, a loud thud and rustle probably woke everybody up, as Bert dropped out of his top bunk onto some bags I’d mistakenly left on the floor near the ladder. Calum made his second visit some time later, but Arthur did really well and slept through the night, having made a special effort to go just before lights out. And me? After all the fuss I’d been making, I was dismayed to realise that I too needed the loo, my first night time visit of the trip. I tiptoed out and back without anybody stirring – nobody had a clue I’d been anywhere. Phew.