I got a local train to Lichfield, then rode to Ashbourne. Am now loitering within tent. Well, technically I'm loitering within TV room, because it's absolutely chucking it down, and this has sofas and electrons.
Day 2 started with my tent in a muddy puddle. Fortunately I was able to transfer most of the contents to the TV room, where the cleaners took pity on me and supplied a bulk roll of paper towels for the stuff which, by necessity, I hadn't squirreled away in Ortliebs. My sleeping bag remained high and dry, which is the main thing.
So, after a late start, up the Tissington Trail (surprisingly hard work fully loaded), then down (and up and down) to Bakewell.
Except just after the first down, two MAMILs on road bikes overtook, and then - through a combination of inattention and badly-timed braking - touched wheels. MAMIL #2 endoed spectacularly, landing square on his hip, conscious, but showing no inclination to move. I advised against dragging him to the side of the road, wrapped him in a space blanket and rounded up his bike and tools/water bottles to make room for cars to pass, while MAMIL #1 had a frustrating conversation with a 999 operator. It seems that they really can't cope with anything that isn't a postal address - that we were at the junction of two major roads didn't seem to mean anything, and they didn't seem enthusiastic about WGS84 lat/long or OS grid coordinates.
Cue that dreadful task of talking bollocks with an injured person to make sure they were still with it, while wondering when an ambulance was going to turn up. MAMIL #2 was delighted to hear that his bike appeared to have escaped with only minor scuffing to the shifters and a damaged saddle (I expect that YACF will be too), though I don't think he's going to be riding it any time soon.
After a while an off-duty first reponder rocked up in a serious 4x4 with flashing blue lights and teh good drugz, so I left them (and a local motorist who had stopped and put his car in a prominent position) to get on with it.
All that waiting had eaten up my lunch buffer, so the rest of the ride had to be completed using minimal-faff tactics so that I'd stand a chance of my tent drying out properly. On that basis I took the A619/621 route from Bakewell to Sheffield, which is a right slog of a climb, but not too hideous by rural A-road standards. Through Sheffield using a combination of out of date local knowledge and Garmin's 'helpful' routing advice, dodged Meadowhell via a bastard hill, and across Rotherham as quickly as my tired legs would manage, via a flying visit to a supermarket for supplies.
I arrived at the campsite (wrong side of the tracks south of Mexborough) with just enough time to get the tent and underside of my Downmat an approximation of dry, and opted for an early night.
It's now Friday morning. I'm supposed to be riding to the other side of York, but instead I'm hiding in the tent while it pisses it down. The radar image suggests that if I wait it out, I'll only have a wet outer to deal with, so I've plotted an alternative route that involves a bit less Sustrans and a bit more soul destroying road with Drax failing to get any bigger on the horizon. Hopefully I'll be able to make up the difference...
