Not on the Sabbath you don't

Having tackled the possibility of a catastrophe that is any dealing with Scotrail - especially if a bicycle is involved - we headed north toward Oban. A train that splits in two is always quite exciting but the views enroute were much more dramatic - passing slowly as the train pulled itself up and into the highlands.

We decided to check exact ferry times and as we did so were warned us that the ferry was cancelled - a common occurrence in winter but a much more rare event for summer. We hadn't appreciated just how rough the weather had become over the minch but were given an apperitif when we disembarked at the port. We sighed our resignation towards a night in Oban, a town which neither of us particularly are enamoured by, and booked into the grand building that is the waterfront hostel. Fortunately we had time to catch up, sample some oysters and crab and try out most of the pubs in town including the cellar bar who were happy to show the cycling on TV - a result by any account. We battled home in the rain with our chips and settled into a sleep that we hoped would bring fairer weather.