In Stornaway looking for trouble.

Against the advice of the well intentioned landlady in Tarbett, I set off towards Stornaway at 8:30 this morning. Arrived 37 miles later, just before at 11:30 after a thrilling ride over the "Horror of Harris" hill - which wasn't such a horror thanks to the wind being behind me. There was one particularly memorable steep downhill stretch into the wind on which I had to peddle to make headway while being blinded by the needle-like raindrops sent from the Gods to prevent me leaving.

On arrival, I found that the ferry scheduled to leave at 14:30 has been delayed until 16:30. This means that I have the whole afternoon to drink the local medicinal water and then to seek out a local red nosed, "soupie" swigging trawlerman (probably of Eastern European extract), for a chat about the rights and wrongs of "Bonnie" Price Charlie. The bonnie fella was hidden by the Hebrideans after being trounced at Culloden about 400 years ago - an event still fresh in the minds of most Scots judging by the number of defiant monuments erected in mutual respect of that time.

Once back on the mainland at Ullapool, I intend to sleep off any residual alcohol before bashing another couple of Munroes en the ~200 mile route to John O'Groats and the the fabled golden potstill!