Met George of the brothers George and John who had cheered me into the lighthouse the previous day. I was astounded to hear that John was actually from Twyford although now living in the nearby village of Charvil...I wondered what the improbability rating was for this astounding quirk of coincidence! Retraced my wheels to Scourie via Kinlochbervie in the 08.00 Postbus. A fellow passenger said that consecutive days of blue skies and hot sunshine were very rare here and at the other extreme sometimes the school minibuses had to be cancelled because the wind was too strong to drive against! This is a land of crofting, with land and sea providing an erratic harvest, however, the scenery is awesome. At Scourie I came out of the PO laden with 2 days worth of hot pastries just in time to see the postman from Devon who is cycling round the coast of Britain on a Brompton folder pass by. He was towing a trailer surmounted by a car roofbox! Such a shame I had missed him with both of us on folders! Onwards to the sea but first the crossing of the Kylescu bridge and ascent of the Quinag pass. This sealoch used to have a ferry village at Kylestrome but now has a huge bridge that soars on a curve over the tiny fishing boats that bring back the seafood to the landings. Stopped at the Museum of Childhood Memories Tea and Craft Rooms at Unapool and bought some big prints of local landscapes...and with some help posted them home. Then 3 miles of bike pushing to reach the watershed beneath the huge bulk of Quinag. Hard going but a glorious freewheel down to Loch Assynt with Canisp and Suilven now joining the prehistoric landscape of tooth mountains. Felt exhausted by Lochinver and nearly done in by the time the white sands of Achmelvich beach touched the tarmac road past the hostel. I had another burst of the rigors and fevers and had to roll up in a duvet for an hour before emerging to enjoy the sun, explore the machair and the beach wildlife. Took the hostel net to hunt for prawns but none to be had so settled on mussels and sea lettuce in bacon rolls for dinner. It couldn't have been more fresher nor more local. In the common room I offered it round as 'sea slug surprise' and managed a few adventurous mouthfuls from the Swedish and Irish residents. My Irish friend had offered garlic, parsely and wine to accompany my egg noodles and sea slug heap but refused the smallest morsel. Climbed a mound behind the hostel to watch the sun go down over the Hebrides and catch the light change on Canisp, Suilven, Cul Mor, Cul Beag and Stac Pollaidh. Accompanied by Hebridean sheep with the rams warning me off with a sound like coughing. Didn't hear any more corncrakes going krek krek in the machair so I was very pleased that I heard one at Durness in a little hay field by the Cape Wrath Hotel. Just before midnight as the last light turned a purplish grey a lone piper played laments to the sea and land...a noise that made me shiver but then realised the rigors were back and had to use two duvets to get warm enough to go to sleep and then woke up in a sweat at first light. Weirdest flu I've ever had... perhaps I'm overdoing it.