Well, after the previous day's mammoth effort, this was always going to be a relatively easy day, but theory and reality rarely agree on everything.

I had a good cooked breakfast, and the people in the guest house were extremely friendly. They gave me some fruit to keep me going, and waved me on my way at about 9.30. My first port of call was the town centre, as I was looking for more power bars and drinks, and this was probably going to be my last Boots shop in a long time.

The road out of Kilmarnock was hard work. A pleasant, quiet B road, it rose up a fair way with a strong headwind. I then descended to the A77 to Irvine, a dual carriage way, which at Irvine turned into the A78, a triple carriage way. I felt like I was riding on a motorway - except there was next to no traffic. But for the incessant headwind it was bliss. The road then narrowed through Ardrossan, and still Ferox gave me no respite. Somewhere just past West Kilbride I tried to use the cycle track that ran alongside the road, but it was utterly useless, with barriers every couple of hundred metres bringing me to a virtual standstill. I returned to the road, which, while narrow, was not very busy.

I finally reached Largs, quite a pleasant seaside resort. I lunched in a little bagel shop, not the sort of thing I'd have associated with Largs. Mercury leaning against the window outside attracted a fair amount of attention, but I could easily keep an eye on him. It was not as though anyone would be able to just ride off on him! Next, I bought a little lion rampant flag to add to my safety flag. The one thing I couldn't find anywhere was a post office for the numerous stamps I needed.

Just outside Largs, sitting on a bench, I encountered Pam and John Morris, the cyclists I first met just outside Wigan. I told you I'd meet them again, didn't I? We rode together all the way to Gourock, as they were taking the ferry across to Dunoon from there. I left them at the first ferry terminal, and went off in search of mine. Supposedly the ferry went from somewhere next to Gourock railway station, but I couldn't find it anywhere, and the whole site was a mess as there was a lot of rebuilding work going on. In the end I asked at the Dunoon ferry ticket office, and the woman gave me instructions, but she used some nautical term that I didn't understand. So I scouted around a bit further, and somehow ended up in Greenock, at the main office of the ferry company. The woman there kindly radioed the Kenilworth (the little Kilcreggan and Helensburgh ferry) to find out exactly where the ferry was running from during the renovations.

So, I headed back to the station, and found something that vaguely fit the description I'd been given. I asked someone standing there if this was where the ferry left from, and indeed it was (it's always easier to find a bus or boat stop or whatever shortly before departure time, as there tend to be people waiting for it, unlike when I first came past…). A woman asked me why I had a lion rampant on my bike when I was obviously English. Needless to say, I didn't take this well, and informed her of the facts.

The Kenilworth arrived, and a crewman helped me lift Mercury on board. The problem was that the rails on the gangplank were too narrow to fit Mercury between them, so we had to lift him above the rails. Mercury was rather heavy with all the luggage in place, and I didn't particularly fancy the idea of him falling sideways into the Clyde. Fortunately everything went well, and I chatted to a couple of the crew while we crossed over. We had to go through the same heavy lifting performance at the other end of course. A schoolkid came up to me and asked if he could have a spin in my bike. I had to tell him no, on account of the luggage. There's no way a novice can lean to ride a fully laden 'bent!

From the landing stage it was just a short ride along the coast road to Rockingham, the house of my aunt and uncle. When I arrived Kelby, the dog, wasn't too pleased to see me - she ran around me in circles, barking threateningly with her hackles up. Nice animal. Grandma and Uncle Gordon were there to greet me, and Grandma asked me if Mercury was a mountain bike. I assured her that that was about the last thing on earth Mercury is - I wouldn't dream of taking him anywhere near a mountain! After dinner Ann and John showed me their Syria photographs. Frankly, I'm amazed how much I managed to miss when I went there! Then again, they did have transport for the entire duration of the trip, and a guide hell-bent on killing them as he sped from one site to the next.