Day Six - Wybunbury to Mankinholes

Sometimes when you are out on your bike, you get a song in your head and you just can't shift it. Irritatingly, it is not often a good song or even a favourite one, but once it's on your mind, you are forever humming it. It happened to me today....

'Rollin' rollin' rollin'... came the famous opening line, 'keep those wagons rolling'....

I don't even like westerns and hadn't seen this one for years. Then it hit me - with its subliminal message - 'RAWHIDE!'

How apt.

Six days on the bike had bought with it some fairly brutal collateral damage. It looked like a well-used butchers block down 'there'. My mind was clearly trying to tell me something by dredging up this old cowboy classic... 'move em in, Rawhide'!

Still, once my eyes stopping watering (around 11.30) I could tell it was a beautiful day. Sunny and fantastic scenery.

Mid-morning we passed a lovely little rural Cheshire infant school, which had erected a large banner on the playground railings which declared, 'Outstanding Ofsted Rating'. The kids themselves were out in the playground (a summer holiday club no doubt) and one girl (rather curiously wearing a pirates hat) was repeating very loudly, "James smells...James smells...James smells"; clearly Ofsted hadn't been too sharp on school yard bullying during their visit.

But as we passed, the little girl stopped her victimising, and, like a bloodhound in a skirt, pointed her little nose skyward....her highly tunned sense of smell had just caught a whiff of Steve, who was ambitiously if unwisely going for a third day in the same unwashed cycling jersey. And me, trying eke out a second day of wear from the same jersey. (James gratefully took the opportunity to slink off, no longer the biggest stinker in the village).

Still, a least we aren't wasting the kitty on fripperies like washing powder.

Today Steve had plotted a canny route between the cities of Bolton, Halifax, Manchester and Huddersfield.

Industrial decline is generally not to be celebrated, but it has created plenty of disused railway lines and canal paths that Steve expertly linked together so that we passed this belt of urbanisation pretty car-free. And the best thing about disused railway lines and canal paths is they are flat. Flat; such a lovely word to an exhausted cyclist.

We spent the night in a YHA in Mankinholes, high in the moors above Halifax. The views are stunning, peppered with beautiful stone houses.

But best of all, a little treat for me. Cath and the kids had driven up - to give us a bit of morale support and critically some clean washing.

Ironically though, when the Slatters retired to their family room after a very convivial evening in the pub, it was my Callum (my son) who stank the room out. So toxic were his trainers, they had to be hung outside the window overnight. To be fair, he had been on a week long rugby training camp, but I think burning is probably the only sensible solution.

Still, it was great to see them all - great to be in Yorkshire and great to still be able to walk. (Just).

BTW - today's heroes include Dave Cooke who helped push my sponsorship total on, Cath for bringing me a contact lens case (I'd foolishly left without one and had been using the tops of my shaving and deoderant bottles - not ideal, but excellent weight saving). And the kids for wanting to come and see their old man in a YHA on his foolish expedition.