We arrived at Inverness refreshed and to a cry of ‘Hello fat boy’, Martin had arrived to take us up to John O’Groats. I don’t want to drag on about Martin but he is top drawer stuff, ounce for ounce his weight is gold and one of my bestest friends ever, I’ve plenty of time for Martin and his beautiful family, I love them dearly.The usual banter carnage ensued as he drove us to the nearest breakfast bar, for some urgent bacon ingestion. The poor chap at the kiosk was somewhat confused by the intake of three separate orders for bacon burgers, and with a red hot sixty foot grill pan at his finger tips cooked each one in a six centimetre corner in turn, so around twenty minutes later we tucked into our scoff and were on the road north across the Moray Firth and upwards to John O’Groats, leaving a slightly overwhelmed chap with four other baconee’s.

The scenic trip north was packed full of banter, humour and coffee, and we arrived later in the afternoon having seen several birds of prey to the start line. A few snaps later we had blogged and we ready for some further scoff.

We expressed our gratitude and Martin left us for the long drive home, and we made our way to the local pub for food and beverages, we passed some time with bikers at a reunion and discussed our handbags, biking accidents and incidents, all very enjoyable.

With an early start in mind I crashed out at around 17:30 with my three Stella’s and ear plug firmly deposited.