Monday June 30th began fine and sunny. Mine host brought me a flask of tea at 7.30 - very welcome - and prophesised fine weather. Ah, thought I, these country chaps know about weather! I strolled down into Richmond, with its fine spacious square, and made a few purchases. Wrote and posted a few more cards and set off, missing out the short tangled stretch and taking the road to the railway bridge to the 6136. Yesterday the way marking had been excellent but today I was walking the 23mile stretch described by Wainwright in almost opprobrious terms as flat and uninteresting. Whether the people in the area had taken umbrance at his remarks, or it was just coincidence, I don't know, but it proved to be the worst stretch of the whole journey. The path through the wood by the river was pretty ghastly, the surface being black slippery mud uneven and uncomfortable. Alternative paths branching right and left were numerous so that the walker was frequently tempted astray, on one occasion knee deep in black slime. After the wood the path vanished and finding ones way to Colburn was a devious and frustrating business. I reached Colburn eventually and just as the rain began. The Hildyard Arms was a most unwelcoming inn and the beer was poor. I came out into steady rain and found my way to the farm, where I was fortunate enough to meet Wainwright's 'friendly farmer' - who directed me inwards to Catterick Bridge. The landscape became wetter and wetter - water and mud below and thigh deep, water laden grass with no visible path. I passed Catterick Bridge and racecourse and squelched on to Bolton-on-Swale without much trouble except for a 500yd overstep. No refreshment available at Bolton. On to Whitewell Moor, Streatham, Danby Wiske - no refreshment but more and more rain! Arrived at Oak-Tree-Hill just after 5, wet and weary, having walked 17+miles. The rain still poured down and Northallerton was a short bus ride away, so I decided to get B&B there. As I waited the 35 minutes for the bus, car after car called in for petrol, but none were interested in giving a lift to so wet a figure as I. Those to whom I spoke - "Are you going to Northallerton?" - just didn't reply. The bus came; I was soon in the town. The first inn was closed' the second didn't do accommodation and the third, The Buck Inn - near the church offered B&B but no evening meal. The room was small and scruffy but it contained one great asset - a two bar electric fire. Socks and trouser bottoms were washed and hung up to dry. Cagoule, overtrousers and rucsac were draped for drying. I walked down to the fish and chip shop but they were not open, so I ate all the various scraps of food from my stores and satisfied my hunger. Outside the rain still poured. A tennis ball jammed in a down pipe opposite my window and the gutter overflowed monotonously onto the concrete below, but I was warm and dry and the rather doubtful bed did not prevent me from sleeping pretty well.