Entirely unexpectedly day 3 of 4, turned into day 3 of 3 and a nice cheeky little 15/16 miler turned into a marathon-esque 26 miles of hell and a kip in the car at the end of it, not another night out in the wilds.
I’d love to say that first night was uneventful. It wasn’t…. something happened, something that’s scarred me since and may do for the rest of my life. And ‘no’, I didn’t get a midnight visit from an amorous Mr Harris!
Scottish mountains are big, really fucking BIG. Scottish midges are small, really fucking SMALL. And after my first day of climbing the former and dodging the later, I’m not sure which has been the most challenging.