Day Sixteen - Why I Don't Trust the Banks

More blazing sun and a cold northerly as we bashed out Mallaig, Skye and on nearly to Ullapool. This morning we woke to ice on the tent, hmm, thought it was a bit parky in the night. Got a blazing fire going to warm up, one of the many advantages of wild camping. Having ridden till 6pm, after 200 miles of mostly single track road (A roads, bizarrely), we are below the edge of the road in a suntrap. It's got a small river on one side, except it's in a mini gorge. So, a sheer drop of about fifty feet, and Gerald pitched the tent to find it was on a seriously undercut bank, kind of camping Darwin Awards! So it came to pass, and with much swearage, that the tent packed up its tents and stole away about 20 feet, grrr.

I forgot to give an honourable mention to Malcom and the crew at Hog's Bottom Garden Delights, purveyors of killer chutneys and other condiments. The lovely jar that was to accompany me sadly leaked and was thus consumed before I ended up with chutney flavoured unmentionables, ooerr. Malcom is also donating a hamper of goodies to be auctioned off after I return. If I return... it's bloomin' lovely here!