- Day's Distance: 69.90 Miles
- Total Distance: 459.38 Miles
- Time: 6 Hrs 02 Mins
- Average Speed: 11.5 Miles/Hr
- Max Speed: 28.0 Miles/Hr
- Punctures: 0
This was the day I had been dreading, when had to cross between Manchester and Liverpool.
The North West? All I can say is UGH! I went to the camping shop in Chester suggested by Vaude to sort out the broken tent pole. They were not interested and certainly had no intention of trying to be of any help unless I was prepared to hang around for a couple of days. Feeling dejected, rejected and annoyed I left Chester after losing two hours for no benefit. It was such a contrast to the helpfulness and enthusiasm of the shop in Taunton, it set me up for the day ahead.
Heading for Warrington, it was obvious I was in a different environment. It seemed the only signs of nature were on waste ground covered in weeds. Even the farms, of which there were few, seemed hard and unyielding. In Warrington I got a real taste of this regions hospitality when somebody through an empty milk bottle at me, fortunately missing me.
I passed through Warrington and on to Wigan, although the start of one and the end of the other was undistinguishable as the A6 just ran its way through street after street of houses - generally terraced, no garden and shabbily kept. Even the people looked hard and downtrodden, trying to survive through life. This was very different to the general demeanor of everyone else I'd met thus far. They had their own problems but positively enjoyed life for what ot had to give them, and they were genuinely interested in other people and their lives.
The streets continued on, house after house rolled by, interrupted only occasionally by a small outcrop of shops. They reminded me of the groups of shops you found on the roadside in Kenya; except these were less inviting.
Finally I hit Preston - last of the big northern towns. It was just like the previous two, chaotically busy city centre and nothing but houses outside. I stopped for lunch at a canal-side pub which was very 'nice', very new and very bland. In Preston city centre I had a torrent of abuse hurled at me by some kids because I wouldn't give them a lift on the back of the bike.
Finally I left this dreadful connurbation and arrived at the countryside, still quiet and reserved, but green at last!
Looking at the map, there was a camp-site on the far side of Garstamg, which I rode through hopefully. A pleasant enough place with lots of pubs promising good food and I began to anticipate an enjoyable evening. Unfortunately the camp-site turned out to be 4 miles beyond Garstang, but did have its own pub, complete with meals and so at least I feel full. A strange place, it almost feels like I'm 'an alien in an alien place'.
One good thing: They have a washer and dryer so at least I have clean clothes again.
Another good thing: They provide breakfasts - needless to say I've ordered mine.
Day 8 route (approximate)
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