Whenever I am missing the Irish mountains it’s a great consolation to be able to read such a great evocation of what hill walking is all about ( even if it is in Scotland 😉
I’m doubled up over my walking poles, high on a snow slope, gasping for air like a goldfish plucked from its tank. My legs have turned to jelly and various random thoughts rush through my brain. “You’re too old for this. It’s too far. You’ll never make it and end up getting rescued. God this sack is heavy. What the hell was I thinking about? I should have stayed at home.” It looked a short distance on the map but now I realise there’s a lot of contours and it feels like Cairn Toul is fighting back. Last night I slept in Corrour Bothy and now I’m attempting to backpack my way back across the mountains of Cairn Toul, Braeriach and down into the Lairig Ghru, a the great pass that splits the Cairngorm mountain range in two.
It’s taken me longer than I expected to climb the first hill…
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