Mud, tents, colourful vests, a field and a hubbub of noise. You’d be forgiven for thinking it was a music festival.
2020 kicked off with a race around Scout Scar near Kendal. I left with more than sore legs.
Meall a’ Bhuachaille – 1:15.10
The wind on my face, the sun on my neck – I wanted to lie down and crack open a cold beer right there and then.
In some ways, I wonder if that is what caused Eddie Campbell and his rebels to report the fine weather on that wild day in 1980: a fire that has blazed for 123 years.
After 32km, 2100m, four hours and 26 minutes in the rain and wind – how good was that? Incredible.
Sweeping corries, rocky peaks and a 1937 entry in the Journal of Animal Ecology.
We started in army formation, had entered the battle, and here we were strewn across the battlefield.
“Should you pick that day for your visit [to the Lomond Hills], you’re likely to encounter a steady stream of pale, wiry red-faced folk wearing little else than shorts and a warm hat.”
We could not look down, like gods, on some dominion below. Instead, we looked out, for miles upon miles at the other ranges of hills – some still red dots on Munro maps, waiting to be explored.