Some fine singletrack to potter down on the way to Poolewe. I'd now taken to riding my bike like my Mother drives her car. Slowly and with caution. In spite of this the hub was deteriorating. I'd started to accept it may break, and tried not to worry about it too much. Though with the constant noise, this was a difficult thing to do.
At Poolewe I grabbed Coke, pie and phoned my wife to tell her of my bike woes. It was good to talk to her.
Then to plan what the rest of the day was to entail.
Strathcarron, via Torridon. That'll involve some hills then.
There had been a death on the trail.
Onwards and upwards though.
Then I notice this.
I have never ever torn a tyre sidewall. What a time to get to grip with repairing one. I wondered if rips propogated, not that it mattered as I'd not brought thread to stop it doing so.
I cut a piece of plastic from the hanger tab on my waterproof phone case, that and a couple of layers of tenacious tape, and I have a repair of sorts.
Ahead one of the steepest climbs of the route.
Once on the road to Loch Carron the front wheel of possible doom made more noise than ever. It was so frustrating throttling the speed to a max of 15mph when I knew I could have done nearer 30. Near dark, I was tired, and the wheel really didn't sound as if it would make it to the end. I was resigned to its fate.
As darkness fell I called it a day a few miles before Dornie.