Day sixteen dawned all things bright and beautiful, Astrid and Israh benefitted from the decent kindness (and a joyous breakfast) from Sue and Ruari Gillies, taking away the porridge recipe as they waved a sad goodbye.
Though the wind was of the ‘head’ kind, undaunted we bashed up the coast, a brilliant blue sea to our right, and the roads were more dangerous, which sharpens the mind somewhat. Lunch was ruined. Though Paul chose an excellent location on the banks of the Moray Firth, peaceful, amazing view, He neglected to read that day’s tide table. It was out when we rolled up. Paul chastised the support crew and flew off round the headland to see if a well-placed small nuclear device may hurry along nature. He failed, the photo shows the reason why: Paul has survived with the most primitive of communications. Pictured is the new iPhone ‘shatter’ it works only after it has been subjected to charm and kind words. Semaphore is often a good second option.
Being ambitious and greedy we didn’t stop at the end of the ride but took on a few more hills to ease the day tomorrow, when John did the ride some 11 years ago a young accomplice lost teeth and broke limbs on the steep descent into Briedale, we eased down the ravine, caution taking over valour.
Paul made up for his luncheon error: whilst driving the van he spotted the village of Astle. On presenting our Astie to the clan chief and performing various rituals with abandoned ease, the entire village voted in favour of renaming their town after her. (fig 2) In doing so, they toppled the bronze statue of Jeff Astle and have commisioned a new one to take it’s place beside the Clan Chief’s hut.
Running short of cash, john sold his 1888 Victor to a local shop (fig 3) who pressed it into action straight away, John managed to get £35 for it after much haggling.
