Day 7: Mobberley to Bashall Eaves nr Clitheroe

Woke at the crack of dawn (well, 7.30) to freshly laundered clothes and a full english breakfast (including perfectly poached eggs) courtesy of jo. Said our goodbyes and sped out of wilmslow at 9am sharp via the bicycle shop to get some much needed new brake pads.

From there we headed up towards the Manchester ship canal crossing before rolling into Bolton at about midday - being careful to keep moving for fear of having our wheels stolen. We resolved to push on to Blackburn for lunch setting ourselves a target of 2pm, which if we beat we'd reward ourselves with a pint.

Blasting out of Bolton, driven perhaps by the promise of beer, we quickly crossed a range of hills that were reminiscent of cornwall and rolled into Blackburn with minutes to spare.

Instantly wished we'd stayed in Bolton - a cultural and architectural jem by comparison when the only option for food was a weatherspoons. Studiously avoiding eye contact with the locals (they'd clearly never seen cycling clothing before and had patently assumed we were some sort of travelling troupe of lycra clad homosexuals) we settled down with a pint of guinness and some grub.

Politely ignored the chap rooting through our ash tray looking for cigarette stubs and chatted briefly with a young man (no front teeth) who offered us advice on securing our bikes before continuing north.

Raced through the last 15 miles to the pub where we're staying tonight. The Red Pump Inn is a modern, recently refurbished little place near Clitheroe - look it up if you're ever in the area...