We stayed at the campsite in Moffat, dwarfed by the yellowing teeth of high sided camper vans with their awnings flapping in the breeze. Dogs barked for their breakfast and to each other, exchanging vital insider intelligence on beaches for dogs and locations of red squirrels.

We dined like kings, adopting the two dinners strategy – masses of carbohydrates washed down with lots of liquids. The dietary abandon of men who have burned over five thousand calories cycling from point A to point B.

The rain pulsed in overnight and we zipped up tight and once again the Rab Ridge Raider (sponsorship welcome…) proved its worth. I do have to admit that having a toilet and shower block was also very nice.

In the morning we walked into toon for a traditional Scottish breakfast (haggis instead of black pudding) before packing up the kit one last time and pedalling northwards once agin.

The sun appeared, the clouds cleared and although the roads were long, straight and quite rough we made good time, initially climbing steadily and then enjoying some lovely descents.

Slowly civilisation became more frequent and before we knew it we crested a hill and could make out the high rises of Glasgow in the misty distance. Our pedal strokes came more easily and although we had to be on constant alert for traffic we quickly weaved our way through suburbia.

We ended our cycle in the rain – our first time cycling in the rain since leaving Winchester a week before. We followed the Clyde towards Partick, passing magnificent buildings, new and old, as well as evidence of Glasgow’s storied maritime history.

As we turned right into Isaac’s road we ended our cycle with a spontaneous 100m sprint finish, which Isaac won (just) as is fit and proper.

Tonight I’m a proud man. Proud to have completed a Hard Thing, but prouder still to have raised a son to share it with. Hats off to you Isaac, and thank you.

As they say up here, “it was neh botha” and I’ve two more children, so maybe …