Almost Shakespearean

'Hey ho, the wind and the rain...' sang one of the Bard's characters...


It was one of his clowns to be specific. Appropriate?

Today had moments of major moistness, but many more of cool misty cycling. Up, up, up from the Ironbridge Gorge.

Then through a maze of lanes and tiny communities over many miles of gently rolling countryside: hamlet after hamlet after hamlet.

Finally as my enthusiasm was draining away came the village of Audlem on the Shropshire Union Canal.

Top-notch public house with a warm welcome for the dripping cyclist. Roast beef sandwich with home-made red cabbage coleslaw.

'For this relief, much thanks.' (Hamlet, Act 1, Scene1)

The 65-mile day ended with a welcome whizz into the Cheshire village of Davenham along a well-marked cycle track.

Until the track crossed a farmyard, necessitating a dismount and a short but deeply squelchy walk across a morass of bovine effluvium.

Slurry seems to be the hardest word.

But - hurrah! - my kindly B&B hostess allowed me full use of her garden hose. And my room features a massive shower cubicle and a heated towel rail.

For this relief, even more thanks.

Epiphany of the day: receiving a surprise donation from one of the people I have encountered along the way. Wow!

High Wyre to deep gorge..

Rain. It happens. I've told myself to get over it...

To be honest, after a dismal start today was short, undulating, green and pleasurable.

Mildest of boos to incident at 8.10am, two moist miles out of Worcester. My chain seized up, obliging me to return to the city centre and the bike shop that I had visited yesterday.

Big hurrahs for manager Dan, who spotted the bedraggled cyclist approaching well before the shop's 9.30 opening time - and welcomed me in. Dan diagnosed a problem with my cage (shamefully unaware after years of cycling that I had one) and fixed it within minutes. Elation.

Near ecstasy on emerging to discover that the rain had ceased.

Leaving town the second time I paused to remove waterproofs and chatted to a walker - roughly my age. He insisted on giving me a donation for Falcon Camps. Brian, thank you very much.

Ups and downs through the dank greenery of the Wyre Forest.

Pauses in tow quiet and charming towns: Bewdeley and Bridgenorth.

And a whoosh down to the Ironbridge Gorge, arriving at the shockingly early hour of 3.30pm.

I encountered cyclists Rob and Tracy (above), fellow end-to-enders. They're from Kent, left Land's End after me - and will reach JoG long before me. And I like the hat.

And on the Severnth day...

One rested in historic Worcester....

Three cheers for the ladies of the above very beautiful launderette. I can continue my journey restored to my customary fragrance.

Even bigger thanks to all who came to visit me in Worcester yesterday and today. Spirits are raised.

Weather forecast causes as certain amount of anxiety.

Onwards!

Forest Falconers make my day

Journeys are about people...


So three cheers each for...

• The Owen family who welcomed me to their eyrie high over the Wye Valley - special mention to Douglas Owen's chocolate cake.
• Falcon Camp leader (and former colleague) Richard Prescott and son Jotham (above) who hunted me down as I slogged my way across the valleys and hills of the Forest of Dean.

Greyish

I was impressed by this splendid monumental bronze in the centre of ancient bordertown Chepstow. Even more impressed by the retail juxtapositiioning...


Rather a grey day from an early escape from misty, wacky-wickery Glastonbury. A stiff climb through the granite of Cheddar Gorge.

Miles along the spine of the Mendips - more or less deserted.

Whoosh down to the Chew Valley lakes - and then a leg-wobbling ascent of the feared Dundry Hill.

And Bristol - and sadly a tour of many of the great city's less attractive aspects.

Epiphany of the day: I stop a cyclist for directions. We chat. He gives directions clearly. And he insists upon giving me his map. How kind.

Perhaps I reminded him of his grandfather?

A windy, misty crossing of the Severn Bridge. And then Chepstow, the Wye - and up steeply into Gloucestershire.

Was intrigued to learn that JK Rowling was brought up near here.

Staying with kind friends - and teenage offspring.

Grey dispelled.

Speeding up...

Another day, another English county...

Pleasures

• The Exe valley north of Tiverton. A gentle ascent through ancient woodlands. Why isn't this as well-known as the Wye Valley? Beautiful.
• Wiveliscombe: just inside Somerset. Unwrecked hilltop town. And hurrah for the cheery antipodean lady who gave me the lowdown on the towns cafe options.
• Lunch in Taunton with my old friend Geoff. Wonderful. 
• Whizzing through a maze of lanes on the Somerset levels (not all that level)
• And today I have not been obliged at all to get off and push - a fact that is down to geography, not increased leg-power.

And now I am in Glastonbury. Not quite my cup of tea. A much stranger brew. Many of the shops seem to be selling rather, er, 'esoteric' goods and services.

And a wee podcast in which I muse on tattoos and tranquillity - and receive a decibel-heavy kickback (which my recorder makes sound rather distant)

The road goes ever on and on..

As Bilbo Baggins was fond of remarking...


Top marks and exuberant cheers today to:

• being in Devon, my county of origin
• the weather
• high hedgerows flanking endless traffic-free lanes with views out across rolling countryside
• Bay Tree Cafe, North Tawton: kind staff, gargantuan sandwich, friendly service
• North Tawton itself - and unwrecked gem.

The mildest of disapproval to:

• headwind - cooling but discouraging
• brisk cafe lady in Oakhampton. Do NOT approach the counter!

And one is a wee bit pooped tonight. 159 miles so far.

Thanks, all supporters, for wonderful messages.

Remember this is all for Falcon Camps - fab hols for children and young people facing disadvantage.

Look to the right for the JustGiving link!

The podcast begins with 30 seconds of silence - probably its best feature...