Return to Meikle Bin

Somewhat oddly, the Forestry Commision website had said a while back that the hill would be "closed" from mid-February until 31 Mach. There was no actual explanation given, but the map they referred to suggested that the frustrated hillwalker could only go as far as what must have been a "Diversion!" sign.

I was never quite sure how the Hill Polis would have enforced that, but as things transpired it mattered not, because the embargo was removed earlier than expected - indeed just in time for one of those "the forecast is so rubbish that I'll stay local" kind of plans. So, I was there today. And it was a fine wander as it generally is, and I'm delighted to say that the Pup never missed a beat.

She comes back when you tell her, and she's sufficiently fixated on carrying sticks (natural or shamelessly mass-produced) that there feels very little chance of her haring off after an unknown scent and failing to return. Thus, it was all good. 

It wasn't until I was driving home that the penny dropped.

I must have been up Meikle Bin at least every couple of months since I first got myself a dug - pandemic lockdown draconian period apart, obviously. Sixteen-ish years at six-ish times a year is...loads. And if anyone's looking for specifics, I can say with complete confidence that in all those return visits this is the first time since that I've been to the trig point without Jorja.

Time goes by, eh? Still...