Day 1
14 May 2004 Lochailhort to Corryhully
I know that its not really politically correct to want to strangle a bit of wildlife, but cuckoos really really do get annoying. It wouldn't be so bad if they could vary their call a bit. But they just go on so. On and on. And on.
All the while fostering out their kids to some unsuspecting twitterer.
And at the same time as I'm sinking deeper and deeper into struggle mode. Day one. Nine wet, drizzly miles in a very similar number of wet, drizzly hours.
And one tricky, verging on desperate, river crossing involving close contact with slippery boulders and some gaspingly chilly Scottish water.
But the evening was good.
Corryhully Bothy. Fifty pence in the slot provides apparently unlimited electric light, a pile of pallets when attacked with a boulder from the burn provides unlimited wood for a cosy fire and, if it hadn't been for the attack of terminal hiccups, due to the spicy tinned haggis and the extra few nips of cheap whisky, it would have been a perfect night.
I was a bit unsociable with my bothy companion that night - for which I apologise (you know who you are) The snoring/hiccupping/blasphemy must have been trying.
And the mice ate your sweeties.
Sorry.
