On Sunday, we went for a return visit to The Big Buachaille. There wasn't much hope offered by the forecast, and it was certainly accurate.
Me & Andy were accompanied by Bill, who is...wait a minute...Andy's wife's brother's wife's father.
Smashing bloke, over from South Carolina for one of his regular visits to daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. He does a lot of hiking in America, and has built himself a log cabin in the Appalachian mountains. I could cope with that. On the downside, he sometimes he has to put his gun into his rucksack when he goes for a walk in case he meets a bear.
Brilliant or whit?
Anyway, his plan was to get up a Munro for the first time, so the Buachaille seemed a reasonable enough idea.
The moral of the story is if you intend to carry on to Stob na Broige when walking this hill, please remember to hang a right when you reach the top of Stob na Doire. Do not blunder straight ahead on what looks - for the first tiny wee bit - like a path. It's not. Being unable to see a hand in front of a face through the mist is no excuse.
Still, Bill enjoyed Stob Dearg. The experience was heightened as we sat at the cairn, huddling against the wind and rain when two climbers covered in rope and bits of metalwork appeared over the edge of the yawning abyss. I mean, it widny be me, but the boys were cool as feck. Fair play to them.