And a little bit further up the road from Barnhill (see 'end of the road part 2') you reach this sign, which absolutely tells you that you can't take your car any further.
Not that it applied to us - we'd left the car five miles further back, and were more than ready to keep following the track as it deteriorated further.
Kurtz had a rucksack of food and bedding, while the Viscount and I struggled with the tent between us, walking like shackled convicts escaped from a chain gang.
But never mind - the weather got better, and there was the footpath, leading away from the road and over the hill. I say footpath - the downpour had turned it into a stream. And at the top of it was a bog for us to trudge through.
All of which was fine, as the views were breathtaking and we were almost at the point where we planned to camp - just another mile and a half to go.
We were there before we knew it. A bit wet, but with the thought of a dry change of clothes and a hot meal to sustain us. So the discovery - once the tent was up - that Kurtz's rucksack wasn't actually waterproof came as a bit of a blow. Dreams of dry kit were replaced with the reality of sodden clothes. And worse - wet sleeping bags...