It started a beautiful morning and I was on the road by 8:30. Had chatted to an Australian guy who was touring by car and was on his way to Baskerville Hall for a meeting of overland travellers (he introduced it mysteriously and I thought he was talking about a religious cult) – he suggested I go, but apparently it’s in Wales (I’d always assumed Conan Doyle had made it up). He said he would read my blog – my 8th reader! Once on the road I confirmed my thoughts from last night – there are lovely cycleways following the River Lune, and going over the hill last night may have been a mistake. In fact a lot of work is being done to extend them, but still needs some work to beautify the motorway underpass. I’m not sure some metal trees and a Portaloo help. The first challenge was to carry the bike up lots of steep steps to the Lune Aquaduct where the Lancaster canal crosses the River. An impressive feat of engineering, which was repeated as I cycled along the tow paths into Lancaster with lots of bridges over roads.

Some bits were a bit narrow, and I started pondering what would happen if I fell in. Would the air in the bags keep it afloat and should I tie my cord to the bike so I could jump clear, and haul it ashore. In the end, I just cycled along taking extra care. It was easy cycling on the flat, I diverted into the centre of Lancaster just to see what was going on. Not much, just commuters and students, so back onto the canal network. Some of the paths became rutted and bumpy so I was very glad of the bigger/fatter tyres, even so it’s does become wearing after a while, with all the concentration required. At one point I was chasing a heron down the canal, it would see me, fly off and land, and then repeat.

Only one other cyclist came past – I let him past as he didn’t have a ton of luggage, and I spotted that at one bridge he referred to a map and carried his bike up a flight of stairs next to a road crossing, with no signs I wasn’t sure how I was to get off the canal. After about 20km (sorry about the units – for cycling and mapping metric is best, I’ve tried to accommodate miles to suit the road signs – but since I’m not using my computer, I’m finding myself roughly converting miles into kilometres) the end it was a stiff push up a ramp and out onto a road. The cyclocross bike had performed very well.

After a few lanes it was back on the A6 and I was ready to do some miles. I stopped in Garstang, which was the countries first fair trade town according to its list of attributes. I live in a fair trade town (which is good), but I must find out what it means. I went to a recent concert during fair trade week, and they were selling fair trade chocolates – which didn’t mix too well with the local beer. There must be more to it than that – cycling lets you ponder things! Garstang was a really nice town, and it was market day. I parked the bike against the town cross and had an excellent Goats Cheese quiche and salad from the shop opposite.

Carrying on, on the A6, it was clear that some big rainstorms had just occurred as the roads were soaked and tonnes of spray kicking up but magically I’d missed the rain! Next stop was Preston, on the face of it a big shopping town a number of streets with all the usual shops.

I was sat on a bench in the main street (if there’s a bench or bus stop – I’m your man), and this old boy came up for a chat – he said he’d assumed that I would be foreign, but when he’d established I wasnt, he told me to watch out for bad weather. I obviously ignored him and carried on. I cycled down some classic streets of terraced houses, and out into a big park when the first of the rain started, but not for long.

My route then took me on an old tramway through lots of joined up country parks towards Chorley. The biggest problem was the gates. I can understand the need to stop motorbikes and stuff, but I couldn’t get my bike through. The best plan was to reverse in, lift the front wheel vertically swing the gate and then drop the bike down – really easy – not, who thinks these up? Later on, on the canals they are worse, much smaller and with a nice big puddle to receive your panniers when you tip it up. Nearly everyone just lifted the bikes over the gate, but if you are losfed up it’s impossible.

The weather was changing so I decided a bit more on the A6 or other big roads as I was trying to get over the River Mersey at Runcorn by the end of the day. It was quite miserable so I chanced getting to Wigan on the canals, which on paper was the best route, along the Leeds to Liverpool Canal. It did a good job and after getting a bit lost in a big park made it into Wigan.

It was raining really hard now, and the bus stops were full of people. I went through town and found a canal bridge to sit under.

The rain was coming and going, but as soon as I got ready it would get heavier. I re-planned and instead of heading to a campsite in Chester, found on in Frodisham just over the Mersey. I set off on the tow paths to find my way through one on the busiest parts of the UK on a very wet evening.

The gates on the tow path were almost impossible (but very easy to get a muddy front wheel in the face). The scariest times were cycling through big groups of Canada geese, and their goslings. Each goose would stand tall start shaking and hissing, but not really get out of the way – I watched a cyclist come the other way, he just went for them which was too unkind (but it worked), I just kept wobbling slowly expecting a chunk to be taken out of my leg at any moment. I was following the right canal, but somehow ended up on the wrong side. I was on a small bumpy path and the other side was a cycle super highway. I probably should have turned back, but carried on waiting for a bridge so I could correct my route. The bridge came, it was a railway bridge with a barrier right across the path.

I had to cycle back about a mile in the pouring rain to get on the right side. I got as far as I was planning on the canal, and rejoined the road. The rain had abated a bit, but there was a huge amount of water on the road. I found a bus stop to ‘re-plan again. Eventually I got hands dry enough to operate the phone, and found a campsite 8 km away in Kenyon.

I passed a co-op and was pretty sure I wasn’t going to cook outside so bought a cold dinner – chicken , rolls. salad – got a few strange looks as people were sheltering in the doorway before running to their cars. I cycled up and back along the road that should have had the campsite, but saw no sign of it – the travel lodge I’d passed 5 minutes before proved irresistible. Watched the first 0-0 match, Poland Germany, of the Euro2016, while eating my dinner, luckily I hadn’t bought anything to cook.