Our last full day on the island saw us rise reasonably early again to make sure we got just that. Breakfast was over by 9.30 am and we recovered the bikes from the laundry room, hot and dry, but the clothing wasn't so lucky. Fortunately John's tyre had stayed up overnight, so there was nothing to do but get ready and go. Next door to the hotel was a small shopping area and the shop on the left caught Jason's attention. It was Arran Adventure Store and in the window were leaflets on mountain biking. After a short deliberation we went in and asked the young lady at the counter if she had any route maps. She was joined by a bloke who turned out to be the owner, and he did have plenty of local knowledge. He also knew the lad who runs the Arran MTB club. Anyway, he told us that apart from the trail map we had, prepared by the local riders, there was little else - we were in the hotspot on the island already. He tried to explain what we could and shouldn't try after looking at our own map so we left with a bit more of an idea.

We headed north along the coast of the bay, over the Golf Course on a narrow meandering path through the dunes and over a stream. Very countrified and very peaceful. This took us to the main road north around Brodick Bay and after a mile or two we were at the gates of Brodick Castle in the light morning drizzle, with the tops of the tallest mountains again cloaked in an eerie mist, as they were most of the time. The map we had showed the Red Route starting just after the Castle, so we rode on a wee bit and sure enough arrived at a fireroad leading into Merkland Wood. Another peep at our map confirmed, as near as dammit, this was the right place. In we went, and surprisingly for a Red graded trail, climbing quite hard, and along the way coming across markers we didn't have on our route map. We tried exploring a couple of off-shoots as we came across crossroads and junctions, but always emerged back on the main trail and finally stuck with it as we gained height and the views became serene.

After about an hour we got to the small reservoir feeding Brodick itself, and made a photo shoot of it, Gollum's sly way of grabbing a rest from the seemingly ever-upward path. Jason discovered a crafty bird had made it's home inside the electrical control box for the pumping station - the warmest spot up here. It was while we were surveying the view from this point that we started to notice the odd low cloud wrapping itself around us - from below! Time to go. We continued climbing steadily. The views were changing constantly, not just at every twist in the trail, but with the very movement of the clouds which continued to come and go within seconds - shrouding the hillside then suddenly clearing to expose the sea view below or the crests above. Wild, beautiful country. We stopped at a small wooden bridge over the source of some river or other which we'd more-or-less followed up the hill. We took some more photos to demonstrate the speed of the changing views all around us. Amazing. Just beyond this bridge we went through a gate in a deer fence, which the bloke at the Adventure Store had mentioned, so it seemed we were still on-track, although I've never seen a deer wearing an oxygen mask.

Gradually from this fence, the route became less and less rideable and eventually even we (wow, hard cases!) were forced to get off and push, or in the case of Jason the TransWales/TransScotland Veteran, carry his bike overhead. Really looking forward to hitting the other side of this lot rubber side down! As we continued upwards, the trail got really difficult to negotiate, however we handled the bikes. And it got steeper and steeper. If you've seen The Slab at Dalbeattie, we  were trying to carry our bikes up similar slices of granite here! Also, the poor weather on the way up there turned positively evil, the rain lashing into our faces and the temperature dropping dramatically. Where on earth was the turning point, the prize for reaching the top and the drop back down? Crikey, this was just like climbing a mountain!

Soon after this, we were caught and passed by six Scotsmen, they of the climbing boot variety. God, why do these walking types insist on using our bike paths? Thickies. Anyway, one of their group was soon re-caught by the Three Musketeers, as he was having trouble keeping up with his mates. Seeing him in trouble from up ahead, the other five turned back and came down to check on their pal. On the way past us, one of them came out with a hilarious remark which we all shared a laugh at - "nine bodies and three bikes found at the summit of Goat Fell". Yes, it was really hard going, but we weren't expecting any dramatic rescues!

The combination of the Scotties' humiliating laughter, John's reluctance to finish this stupid climb to the summit just up there a few more metres in the clouds, and other climbers warning of the perils that lay ahead resulted in a reluctant "yes" vote for calling a halt, so we turned back, two of us muttering "chicken..." under our breaths. Golly thought it would be easier coming down the rock face carrying the bikes than it was scaling the blasted thing, but it wasn't. It was very steep and very slippery, and how none of us at least twisted an ankle or two is another mystery. More climbers now began to pass us on their way up, and you could see the looks of total disbelief on every single rain-lashed face. Many looked around for the TV cameras, thinking they'd been framed. But it was us three MidAirCrisis thrill seekers who'd had something very much like a granite monolith stuck up us. Some even asked us for autographs, but we couldn't stop long enough to sign and were too cold to hold our crayons anyway.

John celebrates winning the vote!

When we reached a height of around 1500 feet, Gollum decided he'd done way too much walking and wanted to take sweet revenge on gravity. He mounted up and experimented with the demented rock piles for a short distance. His ride was broken up by impassable stretches but only minutes later, back through the deer fence and over the bridge, there was enough space for a tyre between most of the rock slabs, drop-offs, steps , boulders and drainage channels. WOW! The next 1300 feet or so was the best the Gollum had ever encountered, and the childish grin on his chops just got bigger all the way back to sea level. Even when he overdid it twice and ran into pedestrians who couldn't move out of the way quickly enough, the grin stayed fixed and just grew all the more. In fact, he found himself going ever faster to avoid the embarrassment of meeting any of the battered returning stick wavers at the bottom! On the lower stretches, we were grouped fairly close after Golly waited for the other two to catch up, blasting our way blindly through metre-high ferns either side of an almost invisible trail, trusting mother nature or the trail builders that there was still somewhere to put the wheels! Luckily, the last thousand feet or so had no other humanoids on it, just the three Loony Toons.

This was a totally fantastic descent, easily up to Alpine standards if not potentially even a bit more dangerous. When we finally screeched to a halt back in the grounds of the Castle, all three of us were stunned. Even the Big Lad, Jay, said his shoulders, arms, wrists and hands were "a bit tired", to put it politely. There was only one casualty, and that was the rear wheel on John's Kikapu Deluxe, a Sun Black Eye with Shimano hub, which looked as though it had trashed all of it's freehub and spindle bearings. We whipped it upside down for an investigation, but Jason, after disappearing for a minute as he does, came back and said there was a bench around the corner which would be better to work at.

The bench was at the door of the Castle Tea Shop. Before starting work on the bike, Jason popped in and emerged with three cups of tea and a nice refill pot. We managed to squeeze under the edge of the roof to avoid the light drizzle, which eventually stopped as we sat there. The trio (!) then nominated the Gollum to go in and buy some cream cakes - we deserved to spoil ourselves after what we'd just accomplished. While he cursed at having to go in there looking like the freshly exhumed corpse of a scarecrow, his holiday sightseeing luck continued with the charming waitresses inside. Never eaten so many cream cakes in his puny life. After the re-vite, we messed around with the spindle a little and settled for a degree of mobility, rather than a complete fix. John was happy with that, and we were all very contented with that supercaliwotsit, scary downhill run. And the scenery. And the cakes. And the waitresses. I could go on but this is a family show.

Wish we'd seen this sign BEFORE we hit the trail! Or maybe not.