There is when you wake in the night to realise that your tent is flooding, everything you have is wet, and you've bust your alloys on the potholes and will end up being towed home on a breakdown truck, home being 10 hours away. Its times like that I dream of Ibiza. But memories of standing in Stenness in the freezing, foggy moonlight that I realise I will never go to Ibiza, and will continue to go on these stone hunts instead.