The machines they rode became a part of the men.  They spent hours each day from groggy eyed dawn to soon-to-be-groggy eyed dusk.  Their dedication to covering as much territory as possible within the parameters established by the physics of space and time can be perceived as nothing less than heroic.
 

The first established meeting spot at the northern end of England - the Barbon Inn - is just up the road from a biker mecca called Devil's Bridge (jct. A65 and A683, Yorkshire).  Barbon is nestled among some of the UK's premier biking roads.  Consequently, the Devil's Bridge circuit has earned an unseemly reputation among the locals who frequently see bikers tearing through their community as if they were on a closed racetrack. 
The Brother G and RS met with the American and the Sherpa here for what would be an informative evening.  The Londoners, eager to meet with the American and discuss strategy insisted that he stay up into the wee hours of the morning - discussing. 
With a dogged determination to get the tour off to a good start the three became engrossed in strategizing and eventually found themselves in the presence of the innkeeper sometime after midnight.  He related terrible stories of what had become of earlier explorers who did not heed local customs when travelling along Skipton road (A65 between Kirby Lonsdale and Skipton) and found themselves doomed to spend the rest of their days as hood ornaments for Barbon tractors.  This caveat sat heavily with the three and with hindsight they agreed that it may have contributed to the success of the mission.

At once the first assembled members of the team set off to test their machines. From Selkirk (A7) they followed a brilliant road (A708 to Cappercleuch) along the Yarrow river that led to St. Mary's Loch.  They knew their machines were ready by the way they were able to easily maneuver through the bends and over the backs of small hills.  Elated at the end of this short ride and at the prospect of finding similarly brilliant roads as the tour ensued the three dismounted and sounded a barbaric yawp as if to proclaim their intentions to all of Scotland.

The rest of the crew was caught up to in Edinburgh.  Now seven strong they traversed the breadth of the island from east through Stirling (M9, A84), Crianlarich (A85) and Inverary (A83) to the then south to Lochgilphed from where the caravan moved north (A816), lochside, toward Oban and on to Glencoe (A626).  It was on a road within the glen that the crew first experienced the thrill of "sheep dodging" along the narrow single carriageway, which led to the climbers pub and bivouac.  The men strode purposefully into 'the Clag' and promptly found themselves a spot in the far corner from which they could safely observe the natives.  Inside the dank inn pool cues smashed billiard balls and mugs smashed into pitchers while the hordes of revelers competed to see who could make themselves the most well heard over the racket.  Glencoe is a quixotic place where the well paved asphalt of double carriageways was juxtaposed against the brutal track that led to the forsaken pub.  Moreover, men in this valley thought little of asphalt at all.  For it was common to see them scurrying across the ridgetops with the asphalt a thousand meters below.  How odd these mountain Scots are, the crew speculated, they have constructed a magnificent set of roads only to leave them as fodder for the foreigners.  The team suspected a trap.

Just north (A62) of wild Glencoe the crew found lodging in the growing hamlet of Ft. William in the shadow of Ben Nevis (the UK's highest peak) on the west coast of Scotland.  The machines were lean of load as the sherpa who piloted the bright Laguna carried the bulk of the gear and all were content. 

The historic West End Hotel provided ample accomadations for all and "smallish" room in the back for RS as was his preference.  The meeting room they provided for the team was incidently situated an arms length from the bar.  Quickly, a kitty was taken up between the men so as to provide a lubrication for the endless hours of strategizing that would consume each of the following evenings.