Stepping off the train into the wilds of Scotland on a wet and blustery Tuesday morning, just 14 hours after leaving cosy Orpington, was a wonderful, refreshing experience. We set out on the southern shores of Loch Ossian along a rough landrover track. Past the youth hostel, closed at the moment for the winter (though you can apparently book the whole hostel, out of season)
[see http://www.syha.org.uk/pages/hostel-pages/loch-ossian.htm]

Loch Ossian is a beautiful loch, with small tree-studded islands dotted about. The north bank is forrested along its length. The south bank is bare to start, then tree-lined. The trees are interesting, not just Sitka Spruce monoculture. There are pines, and patches of deciduous woodland. As we approached the lodge at the far end, it became almost like an arboretum with different varieties of tree and rhododendron (some in flower).

The far end of the loch sees an industrious shooting lodge - this is the last civilisation we are to see for a couple of days. The map here is difficult to read - the fences and paths have changed a little. We walked through a wild boar enclosure with some trepidation, only to find that there was no gate at the far end (so presumably no boar).

The next task was to cross the Uisge Labhair. At this time of year, quite a raging torrent. But there is a footbridge, even if one of the handrails seems to have disintegrated...

The footpath takes you up the valley beside the Uisge Labhair, crossing the odd stream. Until we reached a wide, deep, extremely fast-flowing torrent. This had a collapsed bridge, and appeared impassible where it debouched into the main river. We walked upstream to find a safe place to cross. This proved very difficult - the river was too wide to jump, too deep & fast-flowing to wade. We walked a long, long way upstream until we came to a spot where the river narrowed between grassy banks, and might be just possible to jump.

We formulated a plan. A would jump without rucksack. B would throw A's rucksack, then B's rucksack, then jump.

We were both alive, but extremely wet. We had the rucksack, with precious tent and sleeping bag (but was it still dry?). We were a fair way from our intended route, using up some of our contingency time. It was pissing down with rain.

It seemed that the best way to recover warmth, and start to dry out, was to keep moving.

We walked on for an hour before starting to look for somewhere to camp. This was dispiriting - everywhere was absolutely sodden. Any patch of ground remotely flat squelched water when trodden on. No matter. We pitched camp on a small scrap of sodden grass nestled in a stream valley.

That night was cold and wet. The rain didn't stop. The wind rattled the tent walls against each other. But after 12 hours of fitful rest, we were ready to face the world again.