Southern Highlands - streapadair

Cruachan from Drochaid Ghlas.

12.15pm, 08/04/01

~ This was during the infamous and ludicrous foot-and-mouth restrictions, which I obeyed meekly for many weeks, until I couldn't take it any longer.

It was a Sunday, with fairly fine weather (snow showers, clearing), and not only was there no-one else on the hill, but there wasn't as much as a single footprint to be seen. It felt eerie, like being in a time warp, the 1920s perhaps, and I half-expected to meet some ghostly figure in tweeds and puttees, wielding a long alpenstock, E A Baker maybe, or Ronnie Burn.