Up at 5; bike clips on and off to the station.

Coffee and McMuffin later I was off to Carrbridge via Stirling.

An enjoyable peaceful 3 hours which was largely spent with Iain Sinclair's The Last London; his scathing observations of 21st urban living somewhat at odds with the green Highlands flitting past the window.

Carrbridge at 10 and northwards roughly following the A9 but on the back roads.
A tail wind assisted me up over Sliochd and a speedy run down through Tomatin and onwards to Moy.  Sun all around.

Then a mile further on I hopped over a gate and followed a rough track across a field of sheep and a burn in spate. And finally to my quarry on layby 169. A wheelie bin adorned with not one but two tags! Given my youngest brother told me 2 weeks ago that he'd not spotted it and thought the council had replaced all the bins recently I was understandably thrilled to discover the tags are there.

Photos taken, I retraced my route back to Carrbridge...Sliochd from the north is a painful grind, but once over it's a grand sweep back to Carrbridge. The obligatory photo of the bridge and 2 litres of water later I set off for Aviemore, all dappled pine forests and pausing for a lottery ticket in Boat of Garten, I set about the lumpy run into Aviemore.

Route 7 takes you away from the main drag so I didn't fight it and carried on through. Having missed the 1352 I set about getting the 1537 from Kingussie. 15 more miles of undulating roads through yet more forest and greenery. Very enjoyable. I arrived about 3, rehydrated and was told at the station that I'd no chance of getting on the train with a bike. Phoned Scotrail who said they could book me on the 1945 to Embra...
I went to Ruthven  Barracks (the blip) and back to the station to try my luck with the 1647. Success! Once the bike area was cleared of luggage I squeezed into a quiet corner with Freddy Gibbs & Madlib in the ears and more Last London. I may have dozed off after my 100km....

Edinburgh at 1930 in drizzle. After a day entirely in a t shirt this was a rude awakening. Spoke to the boys in Dundalk ( Gaelic football tournament) and to hers for mousaka. A well earned cold beer too. And a meltdown...A familiar standoff over food. I've seen it before but neither can negotiate their way out.

Home at 10; just as the heavens opened. ..