Purring effortlessly between the abundant hedgerows, with our computer controlled three cylinder wonders of modern technology beneath us; we passed small Crofts among fields of sheep and cows. Watching the smoke curl lazily into the pastel blue sky from a single chimney stack, I thought of the old Scottish expression for encouraging prosperity, "long may your lum reek," and took this as a positive omen for our upcoming ride. Deliberately riding slower than normal, to allow Dennis to acquaint himself with riding on the left hand side of the road, I took a few long, deep breaths of fresh Scottish air, and settled into my new Corbin seat as panoramic views of the Clyde accompanied us into town.

On arrival, the pleasant breeze and warm sunshine infused the air with a positive energy, and all along the water front Tomato Greenhouses and Garden Centers were doing a roaring trade. Weaving our way through the slow moving tourist traffic the area appeared alive and rejuvenated as we made our way to the Western Ferries loading dock. Hopping off the bikes, we purchased our tickets from a straight faced young man whose dead pan reply, "lots of sky, but not much sun" to my question of what is it usually like here during the summer raised a good laugh. Rolling the bikes down the slip ramp, we boarded for a thirty-minute ride across this great body of water.

Once under way, an ancient looking gentleman with a weathered face that looked like a road map through time indulged us with a head-spinning array of facts and figures about the surrounding area. Being just 35 miles to the Atlantic Ocean, this area gets heavily battered by winter storms, forcing cruise ships to seek shelter further up river, which he informed us is 480 feet deep in places. Looking icy cold, dark and mysterious even on a bright summer's day, I could only imagine what things could be like in winter.

Docking in Dunnoon, the small tourist town's streets were thriving with holidaymakers shopping in the sunshine and, riding between the tall buildings that have lined the main street for hundreds of years, there was a definite sense of stepping back in time. In my mirror two smiling faces told me all was well with Dennis and Sam, and leaving town we got our first chance to stretch the throttle cables a little. Heading north along the twisting two lane roads there was one small interruption to the joy when we stopped for a tank of petrol: At more than $8 per gallon we just had to swallow hard and ride on.

In this part of the world, the major roads are marked with the pre-fix "A," so we followed signs for the A885 past the townships of Sandbank and Ardbeg, before the A815 ran us up alongside the quiet waters of Loch Eck. Turning west on the A83 at Cairndow, we purred along the banks of picturesque Loch Fyne before calling a break in Inverary. The terrain had opened up some by now with the surrounding mountains devoid of trees, even though the roads were well lined with thick fir trees. Never more than two lanes wide, except for the occasional third for passing purposes, the roads meander along the side of the Lochs, in no hurry to get to their destination as they follow every rocky indentation caused by the surrounding hills.

Located at the head of Loch Fyne, Inverary comes into view from about a half a mile out as the traffic waits its turn to cross the one lane Aray Bridge that leads to town. Picture postcard perfect in the early afternoon sun, the three story white wash painted 18th Century buildings are some of the best examples of this period in Scotland. Sitting back across from the park on the waterfront, they also frame out both sides of Main Street. With their dormer windows popping out of the natural slate roofs open to the warm air, it was time to park up to just absorb the scene. Then, before leaving town, we made a quick visit to the Inverary Castle, which has been the ancestral home to the Duke of Argyle, the Chief of the Campbell Clan, since its completion in 1771. Wow!