We wound our way down to the west coast to Scourie and Andrew’s property at Badcall Bay. The sun broke through the clouds for the first time since we arrived and the wind roared. We inspected the building site and saw the builders working with traditional materials of slate and stone.

Men from the north highlands are weathered like the terrain. Red veined cheeks and rough hands. They are naturally suspicious of outsiders and barely speak to you when they first meet you. Fire them up on a subject they are passionate about though and they will talk for hours without pause. We had met two such types in our travels, Colin the systems manager was one, who would look at you with such dry disapproval you shrunk in your boots, but get him talking about his hometown Cromarty and his face lit up with tales of the ancient buildings and geological history.
Paul the gardener was another, I discovered birds were his passion, well that and fox hunting, but that wasn’t a subject I was keen too explore during lunch. I took great glee when people were discussing the horrible biting midges that come with the warm weather that they all swore by an Avon product called ‘Skin So Soft’ to repel them, I imagined these hardened men slathering themselves in perfumed moisturiser.

The weather turned and Andrew insisted on driving us to Lochinver where we would begin our cycling adventure. Andrew said it was a lovely ride back, not too hilly. “Not too hilly? not too hilly? When was the last time you drove it?” Paul exclaimed, gesturing a rollercoaster ride with his hand and laughing. We weren’t sure what was in store for us.