In a moment of insanity at the end of our springtime SIV adventure, with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, and in the sure and certain knowledge that my life was safe for a few more months at least, I said we really have to do that again. What I meant was, I never want to do that again. Fred however had other ideas and set about organising another trip. Shit. Fuck. Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. That's that fucked. Me and my big mouth. So with the well worn phrase "I expect it will be OK" running through my head I dully paid my deposit. Left the flights and accommodation to the last minute in the hope that Trump would have started WW3 by the time it came round to fly, but no such luck. Briefly toyed with the idea of claiming to have had a stroke or that the boss was turning up unexpectedly, but eventually girded my loins, kissed the children and booked the flights.

 

Well it proved a gid day oot at the little hill with big lift, For some time Jamie and myself have been exploring this site and the potential was favourable.