Left car at 7.15, the entity that is i as a ball of sweat arrived at summit at 8.05. A dog barks from a farm somewhere below me. The steady roar of the traffic miles away. The approaching bank of sea fog. An aircraft flies out from Dyce, as my right far tries to locate the warble of a moorhen. The woods below me are full of birdsong. A ghostly whisp of cloud is carried on the air just below eye level. Someone puffs and pants on the rocks behind me as his Irish-accented pal is presented with the view. Time for me to head back as people talk about flirtatious emails.
36 minutes to get from Summit to car park.
Why did I suddenly feel the urge to head for my local hill for the first time this year? After a long day at work, I thought of a nice cool shower, or a cold drink, or a large pack of crisps and veg out. Then I thought of all three together. A straw in the can, and did anyone make waterproof crisps?
At which point I thought that I needed to break the vicious cycle and fight through the numpty drivers (speeding on all roads, driving along 2' away from the read of vehicles at speed: I just find it all so tiring). Quick tea, and out.
Kit: Montrail Namche, Mountain Hardwear Trek trousers, Airforce X-socks (they don't work for me on long treks), "life is good" non-wicking statement t-shirt, Montane windshirt (with plastic water bottle, camera, mobile phone, Tikka plus headtorch - just in case).
Last visit: good grief, it was in August last year!