Mauling

"You seem to be going awfully fast," said the perspiring southern lady on the footpath to Stac Pollaidh, "would you pull me up?" I smiled politely, but in reality I was both shocked and pleased to have realised that over

Doing Nothing

08:48 Sitting in a cold Volvo a few miles from Bridge of Orchy. It's almost too cold to write, or maybe I've just forgotten how. Rich and Bruce have headed off to bag another couple of munros. I reiterated

Bridge Of Orchy

Day Five - Beinn Dorain (3,530ft, 1,076m), Beinn An Dothaidh (3,287 ft, 1,002m) More rain. Can you spot a pattern, dear reader? So we sped over to the western highlands and bagged a couple of munros

The Transitional Nineties

Day Three - Beinn A'Chaorainn (3,550ft / 1,082m), Beinn Bhreac (3,054ft / 931m). On which it rained a lot. Lots of walking across boggy marshy stuff sprinkled with deer and sheep crap. Another metaphor for life, then. I've never

A Night Under The Stars

Day Two - Carn A'Mhaim (3,402ft / 1,037m), Ben Macdui (4,295ft / 1,309m). I'm really not fit enough for this lark.  As Rich later said, "Nel has invented a pace between stop and walk."  But at least I