Grim up North

LEJO'G Day Four: Wem to Gargrave

Today was a lot tougher than it should have been. On paper, it was a relatively easy transition day from the rural south, through Greater Manchester and out to the edge of the Yorkshire Dales. To cap it off, the day would end with a stay at my Mum and Dad's and some good home cooking.

I'm burning between three and five thousand extra calories a day, so I've become a bit obsessed with eating enough. Last night, after the late arrival, my only choice was the local Indian. I stuck to a biryani, a side of aloo gobi and a nan to load the carbohydrates and fuel the riding. On top of that, I even forced down a healthy(ish) breakfast this morning. Within a few miles though it was clear my system was not happy. The granola bar and banana diet of the previous three days didn't help. I just couldn't eat a thing.

The majority of today's route didn't inspire much either. After the delights of Herefordshire and Shropshire yesterday, the Cheshire plain is just, well, dull. Threading a way though the urban sprawl between Liverpool and Manchester meant a stop/start, edgy journey. Grim.

By the time I came out the other side of the maze of motorways and terraced monotony and into the hills north of Blackburn, my mood was grim too. I hadn't eaten properly since breakfast, and saddle "issues" were now impossible to ignore. Despite possibly the best day of weather so far, with the fewest vertical feet to be climbed so far, today was the toughest so far. No one said it was going to be easy.

Of course when they invented the phrase "Grim up North" it was only meant to apply to the Lancashire side of the border. When I crossed the River Ribble and into God's own county, my appetite was restored, my legs surged with renewed vigour and I flew to the day's end on the wings of Mercury. Only it wasn't and they didn't and to reach the nirvana of the family home I had to grind out the last few miles though gritted teeth.