I still can’t quite believe that we all woke up at 6:30am on a Saturday. But evidently it happened. The journey up to Killin was fantastic, truly amazing. All the floods, cloud, and rain had been left behind in England – we had clear open skies and sunny snow-topped peaks. Bruce quickly ran out of superlatives, and decided to start inventing more, declaring this to be a ‘riptastic’ day. We had to park up occasionally during the journey to take more photos, the scenery was just so fine.
After a brief stop in Killin to book accommodation and buy more films, we headed off to the Crianlarich hills, for a fine day walking (even if I did wuss out after two munros – but then, I didn’t relish the prospect of trudging back to Morky in the dark). The conversation was of high quality, the mood relaxed, the weather… well, I’ve mentioned the weather enough already. As I said at the time, there was no place on earth I’d rather have been. Contrast that to last April, when I was dragged up my first munro, aghast at being so far from warmth, the internet, and mobile phone transmitters. Now, I was glad to leave that behind me for a while, to sweat the city shit out of my pores, and to fill my lungs with some fresh air. After all, there would be time enough in the evening to abuse my body…
Killin is a great little town for a nights’ drinking. At least, it is when the barman isn’t incredibly drunk himself, and hence unable to serve you a round. Later in the evening, we heard that he’d been sacked. Now, Lex has asked me to mention the fact that Rich and myself were unable to keep our Jack Daniels’ down, and spewed our guts up in the street, but I’m sure you don’t really want to hear all about that. Suffice to say, I’m not looking forward to seeing the photos that I recollect him taking throughout the evening…
