And so, having quartered off an entire section of the Hotel for themselves, they strategized now in earnest.  At this time they all knew, but dare not say, that their mission had thus far been a success.  The American had succeeded in decoding the cryptic symbols that allowed the team to safely navigate the bends.  The brothers had proven their masculinity to all who were in ear shot of their swampy steeds.  The doctor and Peter of Many Tools had proven that they too were invaluable members of the team and RS had demonstrated what not to eat by ordering it himself - a true martyr was he.  This evening the crew and their sherpa cum companion and trusted friend who contributed to the kitty regularly, but never took his fair share (again the team suspected foul play on the part of the eager American) told tales of past triumphs and shared games that would help the group to pass the time.  RS proved to be an expert at most of these libation based games and frankly no one was surprised.  Needless to say the kitty did not survive the evening. 
 
 
 

In the final two days the team sought to confirm their preliminary findings about the quality and morphology of Scottish carriageways by touring a windswept isle called Skye (A850).  The roads here would prove to be on the far end of the size and quality spectrum leaning toward very thin and a bit choppy.  However, now and again there was a newly paved patch and the team was most pleased to use it to its fullest potential.  The team recommends that more tax money be spent on improving roads that run across breathtaking landscapes with no practical destinations.  For a road is not a road if one cannot get out of second gear. 
 
 
 

The group split off down the farthest end of the asphalt toward Glenbrittle, just to see how far the ambitious Scots would go with their road works, where they found a quiet spot to gaze out into the bay and to rest their brave and weary bones for a while. 
 
 
 
 
 

Taxed in and taxed out. The divisive islanders, who permit entrance to their land by bridge from the north, had conspired to limit access from the south. The ferry crossing from Ardvasar to Mallaig turned out to be a blessing in disguise for the travellers. For when the machines were fired up on the mainland side the intrepid crew found themselves in a position to survey one of the most unique roads in all the land. The road (A830) from Mallaig to Ft. William left somthing to be desired in terms of asphalt, but the morphology of this stretch was uncomparable. Necks would be craned during the scores of sharp bends around which the pack would come. The road wound through the shady forest rising and falling with each new turn so that the feeling was much like that of a roller coaster. Those with more nimble machines relished the challenge of negotiating the relentless sets of hills and bends. However, RS, whose machine (Honda CBR 1100 XX Super Blackbird) was built for brute speed, would later recommend that the local works department plough a track through the capricious landscape and establish a more practical and direct route.