Yet more Days...
Spean Bridge - Glen Bogle - Tent in Rain
On the tramway. Easy walking. Except that every half a mile, somebody had forgotten to maintain the bridges. Anybody with a steady head and a fine collection of life insurance policies would have romped across the narrow girders spanning the gorges with spiky rocks and rushing water sixty feet below. But I work for the government. It would be irresponsible of me to take the risk. I'm an NHS Personnel Manager fer heavens' sake.
I went around. I went above. I went below. I got tired. I sat. I saw. I brewed.
Tulloch was good. Nice bunkhouse. Supreme scoff. Nice cat. Can't meow properly, but nice anyway.
Day...er, whatever it was...
Onwards and Eastwardsish. I'd been warned that my plan to cross the Laggan Dam would be fraught and that my very naughty parts would be in some brief but significant danger. As it happened, when I got there, the security fencing was extremely high and supremely spiky. I walked down the main road instead, interfering only slightly with the filming of an episode of 'Monarch of the Glen'.
I wasn't sure - did somebody shout "cut" as I wandered by? Did somebody shout something about a tramp, and how it wasn't in the script?
Imagination, probably.
The weather forecast was dire.
It had words like "persistent" and "heavy" in it. Together with "all day" and "best wear your most expensive waterproof trousers".
I put the tent up at one o'clock, intending to eat my Tulloch-provided packed lunch and then climb the Munro I'd planned. It started raining. I drifted off. Suddenly it was six o'clock and still raining. I thought I'd wait a bit. Then it was eight and time for dinner.
