Onwards and upwards - or , rather, acrosswards....
I was just packing the kit up when spits of rain started hitting the tent. By the time I'd packed it, it was wet through.
This days's walking could have been better. Most of it was on forest roads on the West shore of Loch an Beinn Mheadhoin and , basically, it threw it down for about three hours.
I emerged from the rain forest near Guisachan and stopped for a brew, somehow managing to frighten a boisterous german shepherd dog being almost restrained by a little under-strength lassie and her , apparently socially incompetent minder - who warned me that the dog would bite me. It wouldnt have done - you can usually tell these things. It was just that I had a low and slightly threatening profile, sitting by a little burn like an evil little elf (probably).
A short distance further on, I discovered the hotel at Tommich. Just emerging were John and Stephanie who told me about the bacon butties they'd just had. So I went in for one, and, maybe a sweet sherry.... (ahem... koff).
Anyway, as the lunchtime progressed, various other challengers arrived - notably Willie and Vi and, most notably Dennis Pigeon - a true hillwalking Scot who doesnt mind the odd snifter. So odd snifters flowed a bit.
Ron from Walsall (veteran Challenger and general hillwalking legend) arrived and a few more snifters were ..er... sniffed.....
Four hours later, I decided that it was time to proceed to Cannich. On the way I rang TGO control to explain that I wasnt lost or injured or anything, and rang home and cheered them up as well.......
At cannich there were several challengers already camping and...er... some snifters were shared... Dennis arrived not too far behind.
So there were about a dozen of us in the pub at cannich.
Now, I wont name names, but it would seem that the pub at Cannich don't quite get it.... I went in and told them that instead of eight for dinner as booked by Bernie (another veteran and TGO vetter) there would be ten. (There was another group of three or four). Barman/proprieter/husband of the chef says that this is a "smack in the mooth" and had a right old whinge, but still allowing four other late comers to have tables. This is a pub, though with pub grub, which is just about OK as it happens, but nothing really special. Its not the sort of place where you'd normally have to book - I wouldnt have thought (But how would I know - Ive never been in a pub before innit?)
Anyway, it turns out that Margaret (remember from day 1) knows the chef/proprieter/wife of the unwelcoming bar person - and informs her that she should sort out that husband of hers as he has a face like a smacked erse (she's from Glasgow) and we all proceed to offer advice on how to attract custom and not to allow to it leech off to more friendly places - er- like Tommich for instance. Meanwhile - he's collecting glasses and trying to earwig the conversation. I bet he got more than an earwigging that night. Probably slept with the dog.... (Cheered me up anyway!)
A rather fuzzy pic of the gathering appears below. Something seems to have happened to my barely adequate photography skills. I think there seemed to be some geothermic instability going on or something.
Slept very well that night but was a bit shaky in the morning....
14 miles (42 so far) and 750 feet of climbing