Our tour was nearing its conclusion. As we awoke we realised that we would soon be thinking of the technicalities of getting everyone home rather than the delights of the local scenery. But now it was breakfast time and breakfast in a real castle was not something to be missed.

Andrew, Stephen and Damian W were today’s train contingent, so they set off to catch the early train from Culrain to Inverness, taking the various pieces of Richard’s bike with them in a number of carrier bags. The rest of us had to cycle to Inverness over the hills of Easter Ross, but this prospect did not seem too distressing.

Well, we were about due for some rain I suppose. It came as drizzle as we reached the top of the A836 near Strath Rory. Michael J and a few others raced down the other side to Dalnavie so that telephone arrangements could be made with Inverness hospital for Richard’s release. They then waited in the café for the rest of the group.

Several cups of coffee and six chocolate cakes later they began to realise that something might be wrong. Michael J was not particularly keen on cycling all the way back to the top so he waited a little longer to see what would happen. He waited, and nothing happened at all, so eventually he had to set off in the drizzle. He met a couple of messengers part-way up who merely said that he had to go to the top as there were … problems!

On arrival he discovered two separate disasters. Firstly, Philip had punctured near the valve. He had no spare tube (readers may recall the reason for this from an earlier episode in the tour) and had tried in vain to repair the damage. The combination of rain and laughter had done little to ease his frustration so he was grateful for some assistance.

The second, more serious disaster was Richard Hopper’s rear spindle, which was now composed of two separate sections. The vision of the last train leaving Inverness as we raced into the station had already been conjured up in Michael J’s mind so there was no time to lose.

Richard started to walk the three miles down to the telephone box while Michael J and the others cycled there to telephone for a taxi (expensive I suppose, but we weren’t too far from Inverness and the cost of missing the train would have been much greater). Just as the arrangements were being made Richard pulled up in the back of a truck, informed us that he could be taken as far as the Torre roundabout (about five miles out of Inverness) and then disappeared in a cloud of damp dust. The taxi driver agreed to meet him there, so off we set, enjoying the last part of the descent before crossing the huge Kessock Bridge over Cromarty Firth.

Our delay, which amounted to 1.8 hours in total, meant that we missed the planned train by thirty minutes. To add to our problems there was no room for bikes on the 4.30 train, so we had to content ourselves with taking the 5.30 which would bring us to Perth at about 8pm. Michael J rang the hostel to delay supper and the group then used the available time wisely by purchasing gifts from the local shops. Readers who plan to visit Inverness station should remember not to use the male toilets on the station: they are undoubtedly the cleanest lavatories for miles around, but one is not allowed to use them until one has paid 10p to the attendant at the entrance!

Richard VL, who had re-joined us at the station, had made a good recovery. In fact he was just as cheeky as ever in his delightful East London accent. There was plenty of time for him to catch up with events on the train, and then there was a delicious home-baked supper waiting for us at Perth hostel. Scottish wardens really did make us welcome as we toured around their lovely land.

An early night was definitely the order of the day, but as Michael J took his bike around the back of the hostel to the bike shed he couldn’t help smiling at the note on the back door: ‘twenty extra pints please’.