Saturday dawned sunny and warm. We set off at a reasonable time and cycled along the side of the loch to Callander to buy something for lunch. We also found time to visit a local amusement arcade: Duncan won four pounds on a lottery of some sort and celebrated by buying himself some very pretty earrings.

We cycled a couple of miles to the picturesque Falls of Leny where we stayed for lunch. We were entertained by the Water Babies (now including Simon) splashing about among the rocks.

When food had been eaten, photographs taken and bodies dried we hit the road again and headed for Strathyre where young Matthew had a puncture. While this was fixed Matthew, Duncan and Andrew B wandered off to sample the local shops and buy the ubiquitous cornettos.

We then proceeded towards Lochearnhead and after a while took a right hand turn as instructed by Mike. Five of us pelted off down the road until the message reached us that we were only taking this road to see some pretty views: we had to turn back and re-join the main road.

After a brief stop at Lochearnhead for refreshments the first rain of the tour broke out with a vengeance. We dived for the shelter of a barn and donned waterproofs before setting off up Glen Ogle. We rode down the other side and along an up-and-down road (thankfully no longer in the rain) to Crianlarich hostel, which was a bit cramped but interestingly situated right next to a railway station. It also boasted solid fuel burners with low stone walls around them that were cunningly situated so as to trip you up as you walked from end to end of the kitchen.

(Andrew Billington)

[These slides were cleaned, re-scanned using new scanning technology and re-uploaded in higher resolution on 6/12/18]

And so it was that at seven o'clock next morning six of us dragged ourselves out to take advantage of this unusual facility. Kevin had read that racquets were available from the nearby police houses. Imagining that these would be inhabited by police officials of some description we had no hesitation in knocking loudly on the door. As we stood waiting for a reply however, the private and residential appearance of the houses began to impress itself on us. It occurred to us that a police house was not at all the same as a police station, and probably meant a house that was owned by the police and rented out. Clumpy-down-stairs noises began to come from the houses and a light went on. As the horrible realisation dawned on us that that we had just woken a private citizen from his slumber, the door opened and an enormous bearded man in a nightgown looked balefully down on us out of red rimmed eyes.

"Er, I'm sorry, did we wake you?" asked Kevin.
"Yes," replied the giant briefly.

Fortunately he did turn out to be the tender of the tennis paraphernalia, which he lent to us when we had explained that this was what we wanted, and we left a generous donation in the tennis ball box when we returned it after an enjoyable hour whacking the balls about.

First on the day's official agenda was a visit to Inveraray castle. When we arrived there however, few of us were keen to part with the extortionate sum of money required to gain entrance, so most of us lounged about in the car park while Duncan and Glenn (I think) had a look round the castle. We then set off on the road round Loch Fyne and stopped for lunch in a woodland clearing by the roadside. We were soon joined by a lot of ants.

Lunchtime over we re-joined the road which took us through Glen Kinglas. This turned out to be a very strange stretch of road indeed. It was one of those optical illusion roads that occur sometimes in mountainous regions, appearing to be going downhill when in fact they are going up. So you look at the road sloping away in front of you and prepare for a pleasant bit of freewheeling, then find yourself having to pedal hard to just keep moving. This is, I assure you, an incredibly frustrating experience, and even when you realise what's going on it's almost impossible to accept that what your eyes are telling you is a lie.

After several miles of this we reached the bona fide top, a viewpoint that was aptly named Rest and Be Thankful. We relaxed over ice creams and contemplated the prospect of some genuine downhill cycling. We sailed joyfully down the hill to Ardgarten, by Loch Long, and then rode around the loch to Arrochar where we stopped for exotically flavoured ice creams. We then followed an A-road to Garelochhead along Loch Long, and after four miles turned left up a steep and winding hill. This took us first over a railway line and then past a military establishment, the boundary fences of which scarred the hillside for miles.

Regaining the main road we followed the side of Loch Long until we left it behind and reached Loch Lomond. Realising that this was our last chance we stopped for a dip. After splashing happily about for a while we continued on our way and soon reached Loch Lomond hostel. This really was quite a remarkable building. One of the enjoyable things about hostelling is that you never know what the hostels are going to be like, and this one proved exceptional. A former stately home, it was quite easy to get "lost in". We had to climb about three flights of stairs and navigate endless corridors in order to reach our dormitory, from which there was an impressive view of the surrounding countryside. Most of the evening was spent in the piano room where our revered leader Mike, in a rare display of one of his lesser-known talents, treated us to immaculate renditions of our favourite songs on the baby grand.

(Andrew Billington)

[These slides were cleaned, re-scanned using new scanning technology and re-uploaded in higher resolution on 10/12/18]

We arose early on Friday morning, and after posing in the front courtyard of the hostel for interminable group photos, took to the road for the last time. We were heading for Balloch Central station: we were going home. In a way it was sad, for none of us wanted the tour to end, but we'd had a good run for our money and we were as cheerful as ever as we cycled along the back roads towards the station. Little did we realise that today was to be the day of an historical struggle: British Rail and Transclyde vs the CTC in The Battle to Get Home.

Our plan was to catch the 1045 from Glasgow Central which would take us right through to Newton Abbot without the need to change trains once. This was the only such train departing that day, so to be sure of being on it we reserved seats and set off in good time to catch the 9.08 from Balloch, which would arrive in Glasgow at 9.53. This would leave us an hour to cycle through the city centre to Glasgow Central, find the train, argue with the guards and generally perform all the essential preliminaries to catch a train. And just in case the 9.08 failed to turn up, or couldn't carry us all, there was the 9.38 to fall back on which would still get us there on time.

All in all we felt that this was a fool proof arrangement that left nothing to chance. And so it was, but we failed to realise that we were not contending with chance but the combined forces of two hostile rail companies. Arriving at Balloch at 8.45 we were told that due to an "electrical failure" the 9.08 had been cancelled and the 9.38 was running late. A young station official also informed us, with obvious relish, that the guard would never allow us to take ten bikes on it. We considered several possible courses of action, including sending the faster cyclists on to Glasgow by bike and, very appealing this one, staying over an extra night at Loch Lomond. However phone calls down the line ascertained that the train was carrying a large guard's van so we decided to chance it.

When it eventually turned up the train was almost half an hour late, and we learned that it was only going as far as Dumbarton, which meant more delay while we changed trains. Nevertheless we loaded our bikes on at top speed and were soon underway at a speed that felt frighteningly close to twenty miles an hour.

Arriving at Dumbarton we unloaded our bikes as quickly as possible and then loaded them on a train that would take us to Glasgow. This distant ancestor of the HST clattered down the line at its own pace, stopping at everything resembling a station, and it soon became clear that we were cutting our timing very fine indeed. Mike wrote messages saying that we'd only be a few minutes late and could they please hold the train up, and passed them out of the window to officials at every station we stopped at with the request that they be telephoned on to Glasgow. However his efforts were in vain: we arrived at Queen Street station at 10.40 and Kevin immediately dashed off at top speed to try and hold the train, but when he arrived ten minutes later it had already departed. Our only hope of getting home on time had left without us!

Deciding to make the best of it and at least make a start in the right direction we hopped onto a Holiday Special which got us to Crewe by 2.40. There was a departure for Birmingham at 2.44, but alas it was on the other platform, and the station was so crowded that by the time we discovered its existence we were unable to reach it on time and had to watch it pull away. Instead we took a train to Stafford, which is in between Crewe and Birmingham, and arrived there at 3.17. At 3.30 there was a train going to Birmingham, so we carried our bikes up some stairs, across the tracks on a bridge and down the stairs on the other side in order to reach it, only to find that the guard was not at all anxious to have ten bicycles in his van. In fact he flatly refused to allow us to try and load them in. He did however generously offer to take two. We treated this offer with the contempt it deserved and took our bikes across the bridge to the other platform where we waited an hour for the next train to Birmingham, which fortunately had a more amenable guard.

Arriving at Birmingham at 5.05 Mike saw the Area Manager and asked if, considering the circumstances, we might be allowed to take an HST. The Area Manager, with the helpfulness and consideration that British Rail is famous for, said no. We could only take the HST if we left our bikes behind to be sent on tomorrow. Having seen the brutal way with which packages marked "Handle with care" were treated, we had no hesitation in rejecting this possibility out of hand.

Having two hours to wait before the next train that we could travel on, we left the station in search of food. We couldn't find any so we had burgers at a MacDonald’s. We also took advantage of this time to make phone calls home to inform our parents of our expected time of arrival.

A 7.35 train took us to Bristol Temple Meads by 9.21 and at 9.40, as we prepared to board a train to Exeter we thought our troubles were at an end ... but no, there was still the guard to contend with. The guard's van was about the biggest we'd seen all day and was almost empty, but nonetheless the idea of letting us load all our bikes in just like that was obviously more than he could stand. When we'd loaded about half of them on and there was still plenty of room left, he suddenly announced for no apparent reason that that was it and he couldn't take any more. "Why?" we asked dumbfounded. "Well, someone might want to get on further down the line with suitcases," was the reply.

This diamond-sharp piece of logic nearly defeated us, but fortunately Kevin came up with the brilliant suggestion that we remove our panniers in order to pack the bikes together more tightly. This compromise proved acceptable to the guard, and the five extra flesh and blood cyclists were allowed on in preference to the theoretical suitcase-wielding travellers. And so it was that the last obstacle was overcome, and nothing short of derailment could stop us from returning home. Two hours later we were at Exeter and there were various parents waiting to whisk various cyclists off to various beds. Seven different trains had taken us between nine different stations that day and nothing had gone according to plan, but here we were. The tour was over and life could begin again as normal as from next morning.

Still, there's always next year .. .!

(Andrew Billington)

[These slides were cleaned, re-scanned using new scanning technology and re-uploaded in higher resolution on 10/12/18]