The weather had been steadily improving over the past few days, and now the sun was gloriously warm as we set off through the lanes. First stop was Harlyn, for a short exploration of the beach and nearby shops. It ended up not being quite as short as planned when Neil Allan cut his foot while retrieving the group's tennis ball from a stream.

Padstow was the selected lunch stop. We weren't allowed to park our bikes near the harbour, so one of the many advantages of having a cycle was not evident on this occasion. We used a cafe, chip shop and take-away for lunch. Michael was constantly irritated by a machine positioned just outside the cafe. Inside the plastic exterior resided a mechanical hen which produced a frantic cackle every few minutes - apparently in order to draw attention to the many sickly sweets on which it was perched.

The cyclepath to Wadebridge was great fun, being mainly flat and affording interesting views across the River Camel from the occasional viaducts and other structures that dotted the route. Everyone went at their own pace, making sure to keep to the left so that the many other cyclists could pass safely on the right hand side. A hire shop at the Wadebridge end boasted a touring bike just like Simon's. When asked they said it was their best bike, and they wouldn't hire it out for use on the cyclepath because it "wasn't suitable" for that kind of terrain! Simon couldn't hide his amusement. The shop proprietors weren't as stupid as Eugene apparently thought they were, however: he tried to sell them Martin Luke's broken mudguard!

Continuing through St Kew Highway and Trelill we were soon at Delabole. The famous slate quarry was closed and so were all the cafes, so we had to make do with the small shop in the local garage. From here it was but a short leap to Tintagel via Trewarmett. And just for a change, we arrived at 5pm.

The hostel is gloriously situated on the edge of a cliff, with magnificent views to the sea far below. The whole scene was bathed in rich red evening sunshine. Inside, the dorms were very cosy, although they wouldn't have been if we had arrived a few weeks earlier: the roof had been removed by the winter storms, and only just repaired in time for our visit. It was now covered with grout, a thin fluid mortar which stops wind from getting under the slates.

An excellent supper was served by the warden with full stereo background music in the form of the Radio 1 chart show. When washing up had been completed and everyone had assisted in tidying the dorm (Michael hounded the lazy ones relentlessly) we had to say goodbye to Erica. She had school on Monday and had to be collected a day early by her mother. The rest of the evening was spent fixing punctures, riding bikes around the clifftops, playing tricks on each other or walking through the village to the castle and beach. Storm damage was again evident, with a set of steps being closed to the public.

Martin Hills, Simon and Ian were in a dorm of their own, outside the main building. They joined us for a final group chat just before "lights out" and then left, locking the door behind them. It was then that they made the worrying discovery that their own door was locked. They tried in vain to get back into the main building or locate the warden. They were just resigning themselves to a night under the stars when they found an open window to the rear.