Galloway Forest and the Summer Theory

The coach shuddered to a halt outside Galloway Forest Visitor Centres. Eliza exhaled slowly and her eyes flitted around her surroundings. There was no weather. None. The sky was a blanched white and the air was still. There was no rain, no wind, no sun. Nothing. Perhaps it would have been livlier in summer, she thought, when the sun blessed the playpark with its prescence, but, as it was, grey and desolate, the park appeared to be eternally sighing.
On exit of the bus, Eliza turned to Shannen, "What exactly are we looking for? I mean, we've never really seen Joanne."
"Well, her icon is a picture of the other guy we're looking for. That should help."
"Ooh, sass. It's well saying your icon is Martin Freeman."
Eliza grinned briefly, hoping it would suffice as an emoticon.
They had emerged onto a dirt path lined with large rocks - excellent for climing on when walking became mundane - and information walls about the Solar System. Evidently there had been a festival week about space. Their fellow tourists - if Shaliza could be thought of as tourists at this point - were beginning to collect their luggage from the bus. A big group of kids with a couple of adults were collecting mountain bikes from a gargantuan bolt at the rear of the bus. Running down the left of the playpark was a swooping drop constructed entirely of dust ad rugged stones, the conclusion of a very long cycle track.

 Maybe we'd go back there someday, perhaps on summer, the best day to be in Scotland but for now, Shannen and I heave our rucksacks out of the bus and onto our backs. We have a job to do.

 They had brought money with them, enough to cover emergencies, since anyone could see that this walk in the park was not going to be a walk in the park - excusing the pun. So, they darted into a bike hire hut, covering their ears because it wasn't worth a hat for thirty seconds, hired two of the most average bikes in history, and headed out onto the tracks.

 I hope we find you guys soon, because this is going to take a lot of cycling.

 Ben turned to me, "Do you know where they are?"
 "Yeah," I replied, "It's one of the Seven Stanes."
 "Stanes?"
 "Stones. Sorry. There're seven mountain-bike trails dotted arond Scotland that have these huge rocks on one of their tracks each. I've had my picture taken with two, but I've been to ... four ... I think ... of the trails. The one they're at has an incredible playpark. The flying fox is incredible! That's a zip wire by the way."
 "I know what a flying fox is."
 "Just checking."
 "Well, anyway, Jo, I doubt they'll have time for that."
 "No, no they won't. A shame really."
 "Do you know what else is a shame?"
 "What?"
 "The fact that they're gonna end up doing all the tracks if that's not where we are. Do you think it is?"
 "If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, when I first met you, I'd have said definitely, because I was flying so high, I'd still have been inches above the ground even with Jupiter's gravity. Now, I highly doubt we're even at any of the places I suggested."
 "I never thought of that."