With the lack of trains to Stirling, the planned trek to Braco fell apart. But. The old man has long mentioned his desire to conquer Tinto and show his grandsons a farm the clan used to farm nearby back in the 1800s.

We agreed to meet him at Hermiston Gait at 11 and we duly chained the bikes up at 11 and were promptly whisked off to darkest South Lanarkshire. Through Balerno and Carnwath into a glorious day. We could see the haar sittting all the way up the Forth Valley whilst we baked quietly.

Predictably the car park was full so we drove 1/2 a mile further up and stopped on the road side and had a picnic lunch whilst gazing up at the imposing purple hued bulk.

I drove them down to the start and then drove back to park the car before hopping over a fence and taking a more direct line to meet them.

It became clear the old man was not for summitting so Alex and I plodded on quietly whilst Tom chattted with his grandpa, knowing that in all likelihood he could bound up the remainder of the hill in good order whilst Alex was more suited to a more moderate but steady saunter.

Alex and I got there first but Tom was not far behind and after the obligatory photos on top (extra) we sat and took in the 360 degree view and quietly stewed in the glorious day.

Off down, we saught ice cream in Biggar but it turns out ot be an utterly useless town for anything convenient like a convenience store.

Dropped at Hermiston around 5, we cycled homewards, once again safely happed in mist after a day in the white hot heat of a Scottish summer. The only sensible option was the chippy and hot baths.