Could have gone to Glasgow

In climbing there are two types of fun: Type 1 is where you go out and have a lovely time, staying within your comfort zone. Type 2 is where you are really focused and you are probably thinking you are going to die (even though you won't), but then after you look back and realise how fun it was.... Today's bike ride would probably be Type 3.

It started so positive. We thought we had hardly any mileage to cover so had a lazy morning. Grave error.

We went to the bike store on the Isle of Arran. Gaz had a blowout and it was so big it had torn the tyre wall from the inner beading.... basically he needed a new tyre.

We got to the ferry at the north side of the island and the Midge Fest began. They were out in the thousands. Looking down at our legs we were housing a hive. It was unreal.

After getting across the ferry and seeing such jaw dropping beauty the rain stepped up a gear and we sat in the bus stop with two other bikers just looking at the rain. Not wanting to go out.

Many people are shocked we went through the Isle Of Arran at all, adding the extra miles on to an already epic journey, but after witnessing the views it makes so much sense. After all "we could have gone through Glasgow!"

'Manning up' we get out and see a sign '91 miles to Oban,'

"WHAT?"

We start to panic. Had I missed out a whole page of mapping? After rationalizing it several times it just doesn't make any sense. Lucky we were right. The bike route is that. The road is direct. Phew!

From here it goes down hill. The exposure. The relentless rain. The wind. I start to worry about hypothermia. We are not really prepared for a monsoon!

At 6pm, way later than planned, we get to Oban. There were no signs for miles and we began doubting our route again. There was also no sign of contact from Iain, our host. The day was so bad we thought forget it. Let's just put a hotel room on the credit card and deal with it later in life. We are past caring.

But there was not a single room available! Drowned rats shivering in the foyer of a hotel, we stood trying to troll our phones for a room. Ringing places, friends, anyone who could help.

After an hour and a half. Gareth's amazing parents, who are geniuses, found us a room. After the longest day I can remember, we settle down to a steak each and a macaroni and cheese and I palm the maps dreading the next day. More rain forecast and a lot more mileage to cover.