Last night's drinks turned into full-blow celebrations of Spain and handing in of essays, and after a fiasco walking to Hive to find that Wednesday's are no longer free, ended up dancing in the Jazz Bar until 2am.

Kindly, I had the forethought to phone all my mates to tell them what a great time I was having, before going to bed with a hangover already starting to kick in.

The hangover this morning however wasn't too bad, and I pulled myself out of bed at 12:30, and employed myself staring into space for a few hours before deciding to make the most of the day and go on a bike ride - starting out towards Balerno and just see where my fancy took me.

Tires pumped, and fingers crossed that the slow puncture I've been putting of mending would hold until I got back, I set off. Started along the canal, before turning off onto the old railway path that winds up the Water Of Lieth, through deep gorges and verdant green swathes of garlic, towards Balerno. It's smooth enough, but my road bike was still pretty uncomfortable.

This part of the cycle is full of clues to the railway's industrial past - huge derelict yards with rails still intact, old stations, old buildings with huge rusting pumps and winches peering out from the empty frames. As I cycle, it's easy to imagine the scene when the railway was still in operation.

I turned off at a sign 'to the pentalands', and on the guidance of two dog walkers take the path up towards Middle Kinleith farm. Once I'd found it, the farmer was hanging about, and so I asked the for directions, not wanting to head off on the wrong path and end up trespassing. For my troubleI was told "I don't know where you're going! Use yr heed! There's a bloody signpost there!" before he walked off muttering.

Taking his advice, the signpost took me down the road in the picture - across the rolling moorland of Bonaly Country Park, past a beautiful series of reservoirs. This then took me back to the Edinburgh ring road - but not wanting to head back to civilisation yet, I turned to the hills, pushing my bike up Capelaw hill. The views across Edinburgh were incredible - a low haze hung over the city, I was bathed in sunshine, and Arthur's seat loomed in the far background. I could have stayed forever.

Half way up, I came across a gentleman in his 60s, searching the heathland methodically. Once past him, I found a boomerang in the grass. Calling to the man, I asked it was what he was looking for.

He came over, a big smile on his head. "I feel a right wally!" he told me. "My daughter got me it for a present. I've not a clue how to throw it. It went into the sun, and I lost it - guess it could have had me in the head!"

I thought of the plot to the Sherlock Homes, but didn't mention it.

He recommended another route more suitable for bike, and so I headed back down the hill and round the bottom of Allermuir. This was great - once my arms had gone numb from the bumps, I could get quite some speed up, and at one point got about a yard of air going over a hump.

Lost in my own world, I almost shat myself when I looked up to be greeted by a rifle pointing at my head, and two army guys looking at me, rather surprised. I'd managed to cycle into an army training session. I cycled on, feeling increasingly aware that I was spoiling their war games by cutting through in chinos and a hoodie.

My road ended in a dead end by the barracks, and was directed round the edge by an officer who put "'fuckin'" before starting each sentence. Before long I was stuck behind a regiment, and thought I'd taken a wrong turn. The guy at the back heard my bike squeak (it had acquired a number of new sounds coming down the hill) and barked at the soldiers to "Get left!". It felt a bit odd cycling though the middle of them.

Back on civilian territory, I found my way back to the canal, and home.