Alright, so I’ve been terribly remiss in my blogging recently, and have fallen behind in my personal correspondence and I have left undone those thinges whiche I ought to have done, and I have done those thinges which I ought not to have done, and there is no health in me (as Anglicans once were wont to say – and given recent events ought perhaps to revert to saying… ).

But this is what I have been doing!  Right, me at the summit of Ben Cruachan, which a crony and I climbed on Saturday.  Below, Mr T (said crony) atop the same.

 

 

 

 Mr T was concerned about how his hair came across in this photie, but with views like this behind him (and the state my loony locks were in) who was looking?

Ben C is part of a long horseshoe ridge which encompasses another Munro (a peak over 3000 ft) — but by the time we’d scaled the 1126 m / 3694 ft of Ben C himself (minus the 80 or so metres-above-sea-level of our starting position), and taking into account the crazy wind-speeds we’d braved whilst attempting lunch on the bealach (well look it up then), Mr T (who does this sort of thing far more often than me and is consequently in far better shape) deemed we’d proved enough for one day.  I for one was just delighted not to have cried out for an iron lung after the first steep ante-slope at the start of the climb and was positively elated at still feeling fit at the summit — so I was not minded to differ!

The final photie is of that shameless old bluffer BA the next day at a much more peaceful luncheon spot, near Inveroran.  Yes, it was every bit as idyllic as it looks, thanks.  We punctuated Sunday’s trek with a cool post-prandial pint in the Inveroran Inn before heading back up-and-over to the horseless carriage.

So there we have it: a weekend of good grub and fine beer, of good walking and fine views, all in the finest of good company (well, there was just Mr T and myself — so I mean his!).  The fact that we had to decamp from our room in the bunkhouse to another at 0030 on Sunday because water was pouring through the ceiling utterly failed to put a damper (pun foreseen but otherwise unintended) on the proceedings. 

Any more of this sort of thing and I’ll be losing my “pale and interesting” credentials altogether!

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