Tongue for breakfast ... Day 8: 47 miles, 3405 feet of climbing

...Thurso for tea. It was supposed to be an easier day with less miles and fewer hills, but as we ate our normal sumptuous breakfast in the Tongue Hostel and Holiday Park, aka Tongue Hostel and Building Site, we realised the weather wasn't co-operating.  While I was riding, I composed a little sonnet for you:

Oh, Scottish weather, shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Perhaps not
Well what about an autumn day's ride to Chichester with ye olde Midweek Wayfarers (22 degrees and sunny)
Definitely not.

It might need tidying up a bit, but it's not bad for my first ever sonnet.  Let's just say, the forecast was for the usual cool weather, with a northerly wind, and rain all day.

The morning turned out better in the weather department: no rain but low cloud and mist: consequently no views either.  It was worse in the hill department too, with a series of big hills and no view as reward.

At elevenses at Bettyhill, we met the German couple who seem to have been shadowing us on our ride.  We asked them to take our picture at the top of Bealach na Ba on Day 2, and we've seen them several times since.

From lunchtime it rained steadily for the rest of the ride.  At one point we passed a forestry commission sign to "The Unknown".  I imagined a conversation with a local: 

"Where does that track go?"

"Dunno, nobody's ever come back."

As we approached Thurso it was evident we were arriving Somewhere.  The biggest, and perhaps the only town since Inverness.

We arrived in our well-appointed B&B dripping all over the plush hall carpet. What's worse, the landlady insisted we bring our sodden, filthy bikes into the hall too, as there was nowhere outside for them.  If we had been testing the limits of her hospitality, she would have passed with flying colours.