Spring Jaunt

It has been made clear to me that I am terribly unfit. It started so well. I cycled out of Pitlochry and along route 7 just like I did on the Jogle. I remember it clearly because it was the first sunny day and everything looked so bright. (I also clearly remember the next day. Destined as it was to be The Worst Day Ever ). 

It was all jolly good, fine and dandy. Dull was interesting because of its comical twin and because I got to turn a map page. There was excitement when I realised that my bike computer was still on continental time and that it was only 4 o'clock (resulting in a sandwich stop) I chatted to sheep and horses and was delighted by the little lambs. 

Of course, such joy can not go on forever and so this last 10 miles were  somewhat of a slog. An uphill one. I'd be tootling along thinking, well, I'm on the horizon so there can't be any more uphill when low and behold - I'd turn a little corner and there was just a little more. Cycling the wrong way up a river would do that to you I suppose. 

It was all forgotten when - thinking I still had a few miles to go - I heard a lone piper then saw him, in full garb, atop a hill. Seems he'd been called to pipe me into the site. 

I made rather a meal of pitching my tent as apparently the placing of 3 poles can be forgotten in the space of months. Even though I did it everyday last summer. Still I got it all sorted and now I'm all tucked in warm and cosy with my book and the pitter patter of rain to keep me company. 

Dull, not so boring. 

You can't quite see the piper but I can assure you that he is there. Were I on my computer and not a phone I'd put a little arrow. 

Cruachan Farm Campsite. Hot showers. Need I say more?