Bonnie Clyde

Nice B&B, friendly Dutch host (hardly any of the B&Bs have been run by Scots for some reason).  Ferry to Gourock, across the Clyde, but I was looking back to Dunoon and the lovely ranks of hills in receding shades of blue-grey.  I was sorry to leave, after four​ years spent cycling around the Highlands from Inverness.
Dashing to catch the ferry, I didn't look at the sat nav and had caught the wrong ferry.  But it was OK, it went to a different part of Gourock and saved me a few miles cycling.
The passenger ferry back across to Kilcreggan was an altogether more informal affair: a medium sized motor launch.  Chatting with another bloke about bikes - the merits of steel versus carbon, he looks at his watch and says "Is that tge time? We'd best be going".  He was the captain. Only one other family on board with me.

First off, a trip round Gareloch, which means Short Loch: the home the British nuclear deterrent.  Obviously there are limits to what I can tell you about this highly secret location.   It was easy to spot the naval base across the loch, but disappointingly, only a couple of small surface ships were to be seen.  There was a massive crane, probably used for lifting you-know-whats into the thingumybobs.
At Garelochhead, my Garmin invited me detour away from the nice flat lochside. The planners had identified a viewpoint up the 15% hill, promising fine views down the loch.  I sweated up there, to find it was a dud. There was an information board but trees obscured the view.  I reckon it was a decoy, put there to confuse the enemy.
Back down, past the base: No Stopping; rows of razor wire; frequent police cars, but absolutely no view.  And just afterwards, a dozen brightly painted caravans in roadside woods - the Faslane Peace Camp.  Disappointing.  The only thing remotely secret I learned was the colour of the shore crew's housing, which I can tell you is ... Arrrrgh!!!