5 Hours and 3 Munros!

Yesterday as a family we climbed 3 Munros at the Glenshee ski centre. We got badly sunburned, because it was a scorcher.

Above, the first Munro - Carn Aosda!

Looking across at the Cairnwell form Carn Aosda. The Cairnwell was to be our third Munro of the day!

Heading towards Munro number 2 - Carn a'Gheoidh, centre of image.

This is Loch Vrotochan, a lovely spot. We had our lunch just past here! That's our Munro tally gone from 1 to 4 in the space of 5 hours, although you can add on another 5 hours driving to get there and back again, as well. Next up, Ben Wyvis, probaby!

Cordially Invited!

I couldn't post yesterday, I wasn't here, I was attending a special ceremony. A secret ceremony? Not quite, but it drew visitors from all over the country, won't happen again for 100 years, and it won't be in the press. I take that back, it might be in the press, but I'm guessing that it won't be! Very mysterious eh? And yes, there were several members of the aristocracy in attendance, and it took place during the day... mainly!

Now that I've intrigued you sufficiently, I will disappoint you by making no futher mention of the aforementioned event, save to say that not just anyone could attend. You had to have certain special characteristics (and a ticket) in order to qualify for admission. That is all on the matter.

Tomorrow, we're off to Glenshee. The weather forecast is sunshine, although the forecast was rain for the last 2 days, and it's actually been lovely! The plan is to bag 3 Munros in one walk, as I've mentioned previously. The hardest part will be just getting there. Trying to travel across the North East of Scotland is like pretending to be Michael Schumacher for a day. Very narrow roads, twisting and turning, and constantly up hills and down valleys. Impossible to get up any great speed unfortunately. Anyway, the game is afoot and will be seen through to completion. I'm almost fully kitted out now as well, so all the gear will be brought into play for the occasion!

We're Going Down!

Well, May Day has come and gone, and nothing special happened here. In some places they tie loads of ribbons to a pole on the village green and dance around it like demented Morris dancers. Actually, perhaps they are Morris dancers, I'll have to check that one and get back to you. Locally, there's a holiday on Monday, which they're calling the May day holiday, even though it's four days too late. Nevermind, we'll take any time off regardless of whether or not it falls on a specific date loosely corresponding to pagan rituals celebrating Spring and symbolic re-birth.

Better than that, the weather forecast for Monday is looking good, in which case I'll be heading down to Glenshee in an attempt to quadruple my Munro tally in a single trip. I managed to get myself a pair of gaiters from Tesco for £7, thus perpetuating the myth that hill-walking can be done relatively cheaply. It also looks like my son might be going on a trip to climb Lochnagar in several weeks, and that adult helpers are required. I think I'm the ideal adult helper for that journey, yes indeed!

The Prodigal Son Returns!

Not taking any chances with this fuel crisis, and not heading down to Glenshee as I had wanted to, we instead returned to my old childhood stomping ground, and the coastal path between the villages of Findochty and Portknockie. The above picture shows 2 large free-standing rock pillars, which are almost surrounded by water at high tide. We called them the Mammy and Daddy rocks, and I climbed up both of them many times as a kid.

The approach to the village of Portknockie.

Portknockie harbour.

On the return leg we saw the Air-sea rescue guys practising their winching at the top of the cliffs.

Here's one of them being lowered down, ideal weather condition, hardly a breath of wind. It's not going to be like that in a real situation is it?

Heading back the way, looking at the East of Findochty and the Sandy Craig beach.

The Sandy Craig beach closer up