Pausing only briefly at the Spean Bridge village shop to forget to buy any whisky, I stormed off with a slight blisterlimp up the road to Correchoille and onwards and upwards towards the Lairig Leacach.
Many bloggers and TGO photographers have recorded the looming and ever so sinister figure of “The Minister” up this pass. It right put the willies up me I can tell you and I took a picture of it. Two day walkers on a day walk were passing, so i asked them to take my picture standing next to the figure. The lass took the camera and must have pressed the picture replay button because she looked at the screen, then looked at me, then did another double-take and said, in a nervous, trembly kind of voice - “You – you’re not on the s-screen”
And she smiled in the same way that you do to a traffic policeman.
Her partner said words to the effect “This is freaking me out” and took off at speed up the pass. I managed to explain to the lass about how to operate the camera just before she too high-tailed it.
And so, I pressed on to the Lairig Leacach bothy where two Welsh lads (they were speaking Welsh, so its a fair guess) were having their own jolly in the hills and were intent on camping next to Stob Ban. Stob Ban is a gaelic name which means “You can’t put out your cigarette here” Good plan anyway, I thought.
Onwards and downwards to Loch treig where I found a small patch of relatively flat grass, put my tent up on it and fell asleep.
Kylie turned up. She was running across the sands in her little pants struggling with something behind her back. “Are you a challenger?” she called…… I woke up. It wasn't Kylie.
Maggie put her tent up close by and we were soon joined by Russ Manion (when did he stop playing the piano?) along with Herman and his two Canadian Hermits.
We all woke up next morning feeling fine. Something told us we were into something good.
The campsite was cosy. Guy lines were intertwined.
During the afternoon, I discovered a beanie hat and a towel and inside these were a packet of mugshit thingy (significantly, only half eaten by mice), a pasta thing and two large packs of nescafe instant coffee with milk. I distributed most of these amongst the party and buried the cadavers of three field mice and a juvenile rat.
During the night the snoring was like a choir of freshly-faced sopranos sawing up logs.
At least it kept the bears away.
And Kylie too…..
Never mind - Here's a video of Herman
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