Okay. So following our evening of midge and dampness hell in Kilfinnan, we decided that we ought to begin making tracks. There is something to be said for Kilfinnan midges - they don't mess about. They are the midge bovver boys; the shock troops. They don't sleep, and they reproduce every two seconds (or so it seems). We couldn't get out of there fast enough, and managed to throw everything into the back of the car while keeping any bare flesh (hands, neck, face, ears...) well and truly inside our shirts. We could barely see where we were going, but believe me, if you have ever found yourself being lunch to about three million miniscule flying insects with huge teeth, then you wouldn't care where you were going either - as long as it was away from the critters. We eventually made it into the safety of the car. Or at least we thought that the car would be safe. It wasn't. There were midges in the tent, and the tent was in the car, and so were we. Off we went... windows and sunroof wide open, despite the cold and the rain. We tore down single track roads at stupid velocities in the vain hope that the draught would either blow them out or keep them trapped at the back until their short life span was over. By the time we got to Colintraive, we were covered in bites inflicted on us by the now dead midges (apparently they die as soon as they bite you). At least now we were midge free and in slightly more friendly territory: the Isle of Bute. Our next task was to find somewhere suitably windy - for the wind is the only thing that stops midges from congregating. We went to St Ninian's Bay - one of the most exposed spots on the island: flat with no trees and only a low dry stane dyke for shelter. The wind was so strong that we had to tie the tent to the car to stop it from blowing away. But at least there were no midges!