A frustrating last third of the day, and I'm rather out of sorts - so probably not the best time to try to write - but let's give it a go. Set off up Kratovo's narrow steep cobbled streets at around 7am - when sensible people should still be in bed. In fact there were lots of people making an early start in their cars and not inclined to make any room for a wobbling bicyclist. Which gave me a good excuse to get off and push my bike. Up 4km of climb nearly all steeper than 10%. The traffic soon disappeared - as had yesterday's rain. Leaving the air fresh & clean. Cold too - despite the morning sun. Best to step round any shade to stay in the sun if possible. Up up up - to the top at just over 1,000m - and then - gasp - the downhill was a steep rough track, mostly of rock sometimes of mud. I edged down as slowly as I'd ascended . . . But enjoying the green green meadows, scrub and woods on the hillsides all around. To the bottom - and then soon another climb - to the 14thC Lesnovo Monastery. A service was taking place in the church. Photography strictly forbidden. The first section of the church (called the Narthex I think) was richly frescoed. Big biblical scenes in spotless condition - painted or re-painted over I would say in the last century, but not too garishly. The next chamber - the central nave or Naos - also bore some fine frescoes, pretty cracked, faded and smoke-blackened - with chunks of plaster missing. The same for the next chamber - in which on the right a priest was leading the service in a monotone, some phrases being repeated over & over. There were three other men as 'congregation'. Behind the intricately carved wooden iconostasis - lurked another priest, more richly robed, who from time to time would chant responses. Lots of genuflecting - and at one point, repeated prostration. I watched & listened for maybe half an hour, but could not catch the rhythms or the sentiment. Down steep hillside again - this time comfortably paved. But halfway to Štip - a loud crack. A back-wheel spoke had broken. In belated protest I suppose at the off-road jolting . . . The Edelweiss Hostel in Štip was firmly closed - with a cheery message on the door with a number to call. I tried. Beep beep beep - phone has insufficient credit!!! This the first call I had made since buying a new SIM card yesterday with, so I was assured, loads of prepaid Bytes & calltime. A message to the mobile (in Macedonian, rendered intelligible by Google Translate) invited me to top up. I began - each stage stuttering through Google Translate. Finally my credit card details keyed in. Press. Halifax wants to verify it's me. They send a code to my UK mobile. Burrow deep in a pannier to find my UK SIM, drop it several times trying to insert it. Code word retreived. Input. I'm out of time. Repeat process. Taraaa. I acquire 900 Denars worth of top up I'd thought I already had. Mario the owner came quickly and let me in. The Hostel unprepossessing - but with a communal kitchen complete with kettle & fridge. I dump my stuff & set off on my bike in search of a bike repair shop. Google directs me to a shut stall in a derelict market. The stall seems to do mechanical things. Some men sit nearby. I point hopefully at the stall. They mobilise - several move around me and point at my bike making knowing remarks to each other. Another disappears and returns 5 minutes later with the stall-holder in tow. I indicate the broken spoke and flourish the handful of replacement spokes I had thoughtfully brought with me. He shakes his head vigorously. In gestures - I ask where? Hitachi they all agree - and point in several different directions. I locate Hitachi on Google Maps and cycle there. It is a motorbike showroom that has a sideline in bicycles. The owner's daughter mercifully speaks English. She motions me to the workshop. Several mechanics (I hope) gather around. Lots of knowledgeable observations (in Macedonian). The daughter translates - no can do. But one mechanic motions energetically at his mobile. He knows just the place. But he has run out of battery. He goes off to charge up. The others ruminate aloud - and agree that Saveh is the best man for the job. They describe the route through the daughter. I am about to set off when mechanic 1 returns triumphant with his mobile. The man to go to is Drage. He motions the route - and through the daughter assures me that the workshop is easy to find - but anyway everyone in the vicinity will know how to find Drage. I pedal there. No workshop in sight. I ask several passers by. They all shrug incomprehension when I ask for Drage. I set off again, in search of Saveh. The place looks familiar. I had been directed back to the shut stall in the derelict market . . . . . I give up. Tomorrow I will try to get to Skopje - the capital city will surely have some decent bike repair shops. I go back to Edelweiss Hostel. There is no running water - but also no other residents to enjoy my rich aroma. I settle down to WhatsApp and e-mails. BT won't let me into my e-mail account. I begin a 'chat' exchange - with Sweata and then Indanil; two hours later BT still won't (or doesn't know how to) let me back into my e-mails - but promise to refer the matter to their specialist team. Ho hum