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It was the last day and an excuse for a lazy start, so I remain listening to the radio until 09.45. Though it's a wonder I remained so long as it was hard ground I was lain upon as my sleeping mat had completely deflated overnight leaving me on the ground.  A bit of discomfort and I pledge to not waist money on another inflatable sleeping-mat. They tend to fail. Go down like a slow puncture-bike tyre after a period of use. Well, the three I've owned have.

While the Radio 4 guests debate, waves lap on the shore. The morning is a kind of foggy, meaning I can just about see the far shore almost a mile away but not much beyond. I soon hear chatter coming from the loch and looking out see three rowing boats come out of the haze. There's a splashing rhythm as the rowers paddle. The leader has a mast with a single square sail. Somewhat like a Viking long boat.

It is too late to complete a 66 kilometre loop I had planned yesterday and not cut it fine reaching the 14.50 train to Glasgow. The loop would've climbed up from the loch and through the hills back to Inverness. In any event, visibility would be low in the hills, so I double back to the city upon the low route ridden yesterday and once pass the end of the loch, I follow an almost familiar road, seeing things from the opposite direction, along narrow single-track meandering pass pasture with horses, barley fields, wooded hillsides and at times the roadside hedgerows become tall trees enclosing the way. Eventually along the waterfront leading into the city centre where I opt to go left across a bridge to find a cafe without tourist prices and on the street leading from the bridge find a Polish run place called Mill And Grain, wherein I consume a thick chocolate coated cookie with my cappuccino. A little too sweet and I shouldn't feel hungry until evening.   

The railway station is full of departing passengers and those arriving. And at last the big departure sign shows my train is from platform 2 and the female voice announcement backs it up, saying "The 14.50 ScotRail to Glasgow from platform 2, calling at .........." The rear carriage has four places for bikes and there are five of us cyclists, however we squeeze our bikes together and the guard who came along to check tickets shortly after moving away, was happy we weren't blocking the passage for other passengers. 

The journey shadows the A9 highway with the NCN 9 cycle route following along: the way I rode last year, so it was nice to look at the route from the train. The first stop is Aviemore where one cyclist gets off, followed by Kinguisse, where a cycling couple with heavily loaded full-suspension bikes get off, plus a single cyclist, leaving the Kona the only bike.  Ahead black cloud close in  as the train climbs through the mountains, crossing the highest point of the journey and in no time grey shafts of rain come down. Watery beads pour down the outside of the window while traffic squish along a soaking wet parallel highway with headlights lighting up the gloom. It is good to be inside looking out and not out on the cycle-path alongside.  

The sun is out and it is drying up as the train slows approaching Pitlochry, and it continues fine on the onward journey, as the view out the window is of rolling farmland before a stop in the town of Perth, then Stirling, before the slow urban approach into Glasgow Queen Street.  

It is evening and I have booked a hostel for the night. The man in Queen Street station travel centre said, trains for Stranraer depart from Central Station, so I'm heading that way, using my phone to navigate through the pedestrianised city centre while a busker strums a bassy rhythm on a guitar and sings-some people call me the space cowboy---some call me the gangster of love--- some people call me mor-rees---. And young people sit outside bars at pavement seating enjoying glasses of beers in the warm sunshine. Meanwhile, food delivery riders on chunky tyre e-bikes zip by, or wait outside takeaway shops.

In Central Station with it spacious concourse beneath a high arched steel roof, throngs of people rush to catch trains as I look for a travel centre, eventually seeing what I'm looking for back by the entrance I'd initially come in through. The friendly Glaswegian man behind the desk there tells me there's a train for Stranraer in the morning at 10.30 and there is no need to book bikes, so I buy a ticket. The price isn't too bad at 18 pounds.

Outside the station I have fish and chips before heading for the hostel.