Untitled - Beeldbibliotheek

66 CARAVAN DAYSthe night, with a gradient of i in 9. At onepoint I must own that we very nearly purledover into the young birch wood below, which mightwell have set a term to our ambitions. My newback brake was not fitted then, and at the bestof times Ido not care greatly about single-figuregradients.That Saturday was the longest march of thetour. We had hoped to stop just beyond Beauly,but we could find no camp to suit us, and it wasnot till we had passed through Dingwall andreached the coast that we at last drew in to alittle open space between the railway and the seaat the head of the Cromarty Firth. Twentysevenmiles. Fortunately it had been an easylevel road, but the horses had clearly had enoughof it,and Simon for the last half-hour had had allthe air of walking in his sleep.We had reached the Eastern limit of the mapby now, but we were to make one more bold bidfor the West in the week that followed.