It had been 6 long months since ‘30 miles of hurt‘; a walk so painful it made me seriously consider hanging up my boots, binning my poles and bidding farewell to my glucose tablets. Rather than chasing mountain goats (Mark & Alex) up and down mountains, it occured to me that due to my emerging rotundness, and ever incresasing semblance to a hippo, a sedentary life recounting the heroic walks of old, might be more appropriate for me.
But times have changed. Wounds have healed. And this hippo is getting fatter.
So it was decided by common consent that we should stretch our legs. The Lake District was too boring; Snowdonia too far; the logical choice was Scotland. OK, so it might be an hour or two past Wales but we wanted to conduct an experiment to see how easy it would be to get lost in the mountains in the snow in November.
Fuelled on a mean (almost vindictive) diet of Ryvita and Nutella for breakfast and lashings and lashings of Bean Feast for dinner, we completed three short highland strolls from our base in Fort William: Ring of Steall, Ben Nevis and Aonach Eagach.
Two died. They will be missed. Thankfully they were just phones. By some small miracle, we didn’t even need to be airlifted (although I did get stuck on an icy ledge for half an hour). So in conclusion, we are pleased to announce our experiment a success; the Highlands of Scotland are a place not only to get cold, and get lost, but are also very hippo friendly.
Och Aye.