Report from The North

I'm not yet half-way to John o'Groats but even so I'm in the bit of the country known as The North. For many Londoners, The North is everywhere outside the M25 in any direction: it's always cold and wet, people are rumoured to live there but there doesn't appear to be anything to do. Of course that's not what I think, although the cold and wet bit was certainly true today. It has rained more heavily on me today than on any day yet - that'll give Scotland something to aim for. The rain was so heavy that I could hardly see the road in front of me. At Kettlewell I jumped out of the rain into a cafe, with a few adjustments to my coiffure beforehand for decorum's sake, and stayed there for a couple of hours until the rain turned to drizzle. I still had to climb a big hill to get to Hawes via Oughtershaw, so I set off. The heavy rainfall was collecting quickly in the river Wharfe, red and angry - it's usually sedate at this time of year. The skies were looking pretty angry too - the dismal grey of before had broken up into dark storm clouds billowing in the wind and tearing across the sky. I was looking pretty wild too, even though I say so myself. I set off into the wind, rain pinging off me, while 'Night on a Bare Mountain' rang out across the valley. It wasn't long before I hit a flooded road. Off came the shoes and socks and I rode through the peaty water. Then the road was too steep to ride up so I pushed Raquel (my bicycle) the last couple of miles to the top, jumping back on her whenever the gradient allowed. Near the top, I stopped to marvel at the the Creation - I'd never seen skies as dramatic as these. One cloud, darker than a Siberian winter [exaggeration] detached itself from the rest and, as if guided by some diabolic hand, dropped out of the sky and headed straight for me. God dammit I jumped on Raquel and rode for all I was worth to evade the elemental aberration, all to the tune of Hawaii 5-0 (again), and I just about managed it because I was side-on to the wind. The cloud swallowed up the hillside where I had just been, a black fury - it would have been dark and very wet in the middle of it. When I reached the top of the hill, I could see clouds level with me and all around, moving quickly in glory and menace. It would have been lovely to stop there and have a picnic but for the rage of nature pressing down upon me. I hurtled on at great speed down the one-in-four slope, to the tune of Hello Dolly, into the homely arms of the staff at Hawes Youth Hostel.

Ps I put my shoes back on.