I reached the final weekend of testing in late March in the company of the Goddess and two club-mates. Patrick and Hamish joined us on a joyful rampage up Strath Vaich and into Glen Cuilleanach on a crisp bright day.
A short way up Glen Cuilleanach, needing a wee pick-me-up, we concocted a new tradition. I collected the highland stream water, Patrick brewed up the coffee, the goddess tipped in a good slug of Highland Park, Hamish cracked out the dark chocolate and the weather gods played along with a patch of sunshine. A Cuilleanach coffee – highly recommended.
The next day was a return journey to my parents’ house that was more unpleasant than we’d bargained for, lashed by a 60mile/hour side-wind laced with sleat and snow. Numb bodies and minds, we eventually stumbled into the house, totally drookit. Revived by a large whisky from my dad and a good feed from my mum, Hamish succinctly captured our weekends’ experience – ‘brutiful’. Such vagaries of the Scottish weather were, unfortunately, to become familiar to the RSR riders.