Would have been a busy day for my breaks had I had it in the first place. There were few moments of panic, where I almost regretted not having breaks, though I significantly improved my skidding skills. Going down the steep hill near Fort Augustus I could literary smell the burning rubber of the rear tyre, but it’s not what killed it. POTHOLE TO BLAME.
Underneath the Kessock bridge
P.S. Thanks to our new ‘Merican friends Jim, Barb, Johnny and Path it is finally clear who’s doing what on this trip. Obviously, I am cycling and Jurgita (wife) is the shag-wagon-driver!
Maintenance time, oiling and tensioning the chain: