Sunday started off the most fantastic day. Chattering all the way, we started the walk enthusiastically, loving the first dusting of snow with the virgin whiteness only being disturbed by deer and rabbits. The sun had not long risen and the hills had a sleepy glow defused by low and slow-moving clouds. The initial climb was gradual and straight forward but once the track disappeared it was hands to the ground for a crab-like crawl to the sumit across tussocky terrain. At one point, we formed a hand-holding chain - good friends on the hills are an essential part of my outdoor kit! Throughout the day, we all took a turn to hit the icy ground hard (except Vince) and i took an unelegant drop into a sinkhole, up to my knee with the cold mud level way above my boots seeping inwards. After one big tug and no movement whatsoever - I'm stuck. Another almighty tug with both hands to help and an alarming suction fart echoed from the darkness as the boot was helped to the surface. One leg now weighed twice that of the other, caked heavily in mud and full of watery sludge. The chattering continued distracting us off-route and we had to scramble the fence line for a quarter mile or so to retrace our steps. Back to the bus tired, hungry and wet we headed home after a tea and cake stop in Arrochar with Vince's family. Another memorable day on the hills with all the added 'extras' just serving as a reminder that I am hardier than I give myself credit for...
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