One of Peter Knottley's favourite aphorisms was "There's no such thing as bad weather — just inappropriate clothing".
I was pleased with how well my clothing was dealing with what a Scottish Summer was choosing to throw at me that morning, as I headed North-west along the shores of Loch Stack on my first full day in the Highlands. The temperature was in the 60s Fahrenheit, and a Gore-tex jacket with the pit-zips fully open deflected the heavy rain without making me overheat, in spite of the gentle climb. Maybe it had something to do with the strong westerly breeze.
The lady in the bookshop-cum-teashop in Lairg had said that she hoped that the breeze would keep blowing, since that would keep the midges away. Clearly she had never had to ride a bicycle 40 miles into a headwind funneled by the sides of a long Highland glen. A young girl in the shop had asked me how long it would take me to ride to Durness, and I had nonchalantly replied: it's about 60 miles, so thats about 4 hours. Of course, I had reckoned without that headwind, my mudguards — excellent at catching the wind as well as the water — and my loaded panniers and saddlebag.
