HIGHLAND councillor Drew Millar is not easily confused with the bronzed athletes of the Tour de France. He's much less lean and he's Hebridean white, his legs are too short, and his crunching gear changes make for erratic progress.

But he has their gritty determination. Last Monday, his heels still driving the pedals of a lady's borrowed bike, he and half-a-dozen other cyclists completed the SKAT Over Scotland's Bridges cycle run: 650 miles in eight days.

``The only thing . . . that keeps me going,'' Drew gasped, as he paced up one particularly severe incline, ``is knowing that I haven't stopped breathing yet.''

There was more to it than that, of course. What really kept him going, what kept all of us going, was the potency of our cause. Injustice turned our pedals. SKAT (Skye & Lochalsh Against Tolls) is campaigning against the punishing effects of the highest tolls in Europe on a fragile island economy.

As a group of ordinary people we were representative of that economy: a butcher, bunkhouse-owner, prawn fisherman, heating engineer, business manager and two high school teachers. Our intention was to cycle 80 miles a day on a route linking Scotland's better-known bridges: Kylesku, Dornoch, Cromarty, Kessock, Tay, Forth, Erskine and Ballachulish.

Some of these bridges span former ferry crossings and replicate Skye's situation. Unlike Skye's, the majority are free and none charges more than 80p to cross. `Would you pay #5.20 to cross this bridge?' read one of our signs. That's the standard one-way charge for a car crossing to Skye.

We cycled into Ullapool through a veil of drizzle, uncertain of our reception, for the Ullapool-Stornoway ferry has captured from Skye the freight traffic to the Western Isles. But here, as everywhere along our route, we were met with affirmations of support, donations and signatures for our petition.

``What's all the fuss about?'' asked one bemused passer-by. ``If you don't like the bridge, use the ferry. And anyway, the toll's the same as the old ferry fare.''

This spectre of misunderstanding was a frequent apparition on our journey. Each time we had to explain that for six months of the year the bridge is the only means of vehicular access to and from Skye. And the old ferry fares, on which the tolls are based, included a 42% surcharge to offset Calmac's losses on other ferry routes. This was only revealed this year. The people of Skye and the Western Isles unknowingly paid for that bridge years ago.

The hills built up after Ullapool, but the weather was kind until we reached the east coast and encountered the headwinds which were to plague us for the remainder of the journey. The wind temporarily turned at Drumochter Summit and pushed us downhill to Bruar at a peak speed of 35mph. In Pitlochry a bystander shrugged. ``Skye Bridge? Nothing to do wi me, pal?'' However, the Skye Bridge tolls will affect everyone, indirectly. If they are allowed to persist, the door will be open for high-toll bridges, roads, hospitals, schools to be built everywhere, and one will be near you. Private Funding Initiatives, allowing private investors to finance public works, is not an unreasonable concept, except where it hits a remote community with extortionate tolls and holds a monopoly over their access. Bank of America will cream off #22m profit from the Skye Bridge.

We worked our way steadily south, heartened by the frequent cars which honked support. At the Forth Road Bridge the operations manager came out to see us as we peacefully displayed placards to the rush-hour traffic. We braced ourselves for a reprimand. ``You're quite right,'' he said. ``Good luck with your campaign.''

To refuse to pay the toll on the Forth Road Bridge is a civil offence. On Skye it brings a criminal charge.

By the time we reached Bathgate (rain again) our muscles were toning to the task. We paused at a cafe to devour bacon butties and chat to other customers. They were shocked to learn that it costs a coach #75 return to cross the Skye Bridge, whereas on the new Severn Bridge (which cost ten times more to build and offers a free alternative) that same coach pays a total of #11.

We fought headwinds all the way through Glencoe, and almost lost our lives under the wheels of tourist convoys. Finally we reached Skye and ended at our starting point: a great, shabby arch of concrete.

Donnie Grant, the prawn fisherman, won the sprint finish. His laurels were a bicycle tyre entwined with evergreen and he was awarded a ceramic mug from which multi-coloured ribbons fluttered. He held it high to show the wording on its side: ``The Skye Bridge, the only place you get mugged and get a receipt.''