Hope bounces eternal...

Hooray! We are over in Torridon, it has finally stopped raining, and we are going to climb 'my mountain', Beinn Alligin.*

So the peak is in cloud, but hey, it's the middle of summer, for sure it'll clear by mid morning...

Oh dear. Perhaps I was being optimistic...

Well if you can't enjoy the view at the summit,

Then for sure you can enjoy a chicken chew before tackling the steep descent.

But I have to tell you I was not feeling in the mood to appreciate the view from the kitchen sink during my post walk paw wash...

*Note from Gail: Bertie's 'official' kennel club name is Granddach Beinn Alligin, the Granddach being from the kennels where he was bred, and Beinn Alligin being my favourite Scottish mountain.

All's well that ends well

Life can be quite an emotional roller coaster sometimes, can't it?

Oh how excited I was when Gail told me we were going over to Torridon for the weekend, and that her nice friends from Holland, Angela and Florian and their boys Alexander and Sebastian, would also be staying at the cottage.

It got even better when I heard that a big hill walk was planned.

Imagine my dismay on arriving at the cottage. The visitors were out, but they'd left so much stuff lying around, and all of it indicating interests other than hillwalking with yours truly.

First I spot a musical instrument case.


And this kit is surely shouting 'sea kayak'?


And oh dear, a fishing rod...


Then there's a bag of books.


Oh, what a relief, finally I see some hiking boots.


When our friends showed up, it turned out they had already been sea kayaking and crab fishing and were now ready for a relaxing evening, noses buried in books, and I decided to join them.



In the morning they played their musical instruments (quite pleasing to the flappy little ears, actually).


But I was beginning to wonder if the promised expedition into the mountains would ever take place.

Oh the tension. ….


Well I am totally thrilled to tell you that on Sunday we all climbed MY mountain, Beinn Alligin. (You did know that my posh Kennel Club name is Granddach Beinn Alligin, didn't you?)

And look what a splendid day we had.

The calm after the storm

We went over to Torridon to check up on the cottage.

Did someone say there's been bad weather in Scotland?

We'll let the pictures do the talking today - just this once...

 

Britain at its Best?

Now I've had a wee peak at the photos in the paper and I will concede that Kate - ooops sorry I mean Catherine - did look lovely down in Westminster Abbey on Friday.

But I still contend that, if you had wanted to see 'Britain at its Best' this weekend, you should have joined me in Northwest Scotland.

Posing on the beach at Gairloch, Wester Ross

More posing - Gairloch village in the background

Yes it really is Scotland. And the sea really was that blue!

Escaping the Bank Holiday crowds

Admiring the view of the Torridon hills

Conquering my first Munro - Beinn Alligin, above Loch Torridon

It was so dry that one of the Torridon hills (Liathach) caught fire.

Yes really!!

Watching the fire from a safe distance at the far end of Loch Torridon

And finally, back at our cottage, enjoying 'Hamish's view' over the Loch

Log in on Friday for the much anticipated Gravity Lecture.....

PS for more on the fire, see this dramatic report from a walker on Liathach.

The impatience of youth

Hey Gail! I so want to bag a Munro. Please please please. Why not next weekend? Let's go up Beinn Alligin. I know I can do it!

Why Bertie, what ever put that idea into your cute little noddle? Munro bagging indeed. You know you're still far too young to be climbing up our highest Scottish mountains. 

Cute little noddle? Oh puh-lease. Don't be so patronising, I'm not a baby any more. I'm getting quite the big and strong young laddie. You said so yourself, only a few days ago. I've got loads and loads of energy. I wasn't even tired after that five mile hike last Sunday.

But Bertie, you're only just over six months old. And that outing on Sunday was on the level, on nice smooth tracks and soft grass. It's a whole different proposition, climbing a Munro. 

But, but, but...I've already been up Scolty. And Millstone Hill. And Hamish climbed lots of the biggest hills. And my legs are longer now than his ever were.

Yes Bertie, but on a Munro there'll be lots of rough ground and boulders to clamber over, and steep slopes and ledges where you need to be very careful to keep your footing. Remember how you jumped right onto that cattle grid last weekend and fell in between the metal bars, and then got into a tizzy and I had to rescue you? You must learn to look before you leap. Hamish now, he was always careful to assess how safe it was before proceeding. But with you, it's all a bit 'fools rush in' at the moment isn't it Bertie?

Hamish Hamish Hamish. I'm so fed up of hearing about him. I'm ME! And anyway, why is my 'posh' name Beinn Alligin if I'm never going to be allowed to climb it?

Bertie! Don't be a silly billy! I didn't say never just not yet. And it's only because I love you so much, you're so precious to me and I don't want you to come to any harm. Your half-year old bones still aren't so strong, you see, and you haven't yet learned to judge things very well. Then there's the weather. I couldn't help but notice that when we turned around that headland on our boggy walk last weekend, and we were suddenly hit by a 30 mph wind, you were just a little bit frightened. As you indicated by all that nipping at my ankles.....

Oh that. Well OK, yes, I was sort of scared. I didn't think you'd noticed. Will it be very windy on the top of a Munro then?

Almost certainly, Bertie, almost certainly. Now listen, we'll do some more practice hills this winter, and then next year, when the snows have gone and you're past your first birthday, I promise you, we'll go over to Torridon and climb Beinn Alligin, all the way to the top. 

Promise? Really?

I absolutely promise Bertie. 

My name is NOT 'Big Grey Cloud'

We went over to the cottage on Loch Torridon last weekend.

From the garden, Gail kept pointing up in a north-easterly direction and saying 'see Bertie, that's what you're named after'.

I was most confused. I had understood that for my 'official name', Gail had chosen a rather grand Scottish mountain. But where she was pointing, all I could see was a great big dark cloud. And lots of rain coming out of it.

How very disappointing. One is led to believe that one has been registered with the Kennel Club as 'Granddach Beinn Alligin' (Beinn Alligin is one of the Torridon Moutain group, and the words mean 'Jewelled Mountain' in English). A name that one could be proud of indeed.

And then one finds out that one is actually called 'Big Wet Cloud' or something.

I think Gail caught my look of utter disenchantment. 'No, no Bertie you've got it all wrong, just wait a while and you'll see'.

Well as we know, waiting patiently is not my forte. So I wandered round the garden chewing a few plants, then went indoors and had a nibble at the bristly doormat.

By the time I came back outside the wind had shifted the clouds and we could see a big round lump behind the cottage. That was Beinn Alligin, apparently.

Later, when the clouds had lifted further, we drove round to the other side of Loch Torridon, and Gail made me pose 'nicely' so that she could take this picture of the mountain from a better angle.

Next year, when I am bigger and stronger, we are going to climb it!

[Readers of Gail's 'Between Dogs' blog will know that for everyday purposes I was named Bertie after Bertie Wooster, 'cos P.G. Wodehouse makes Gail smile and I am supposed to do the same. Sometimes she calls me 'Bertie WFTer' or 'Bertie Woofter'. It can be something of a trial when your human likes stupid puns....]

Oh, and while we are one the subject of my weekend in Torridon, I want to show you some more things, to make up for our last visit, when Gail forgot the camera.

I am told that the newly opened shop and cafe in Torridon village is lovely, and that you must visit it if you find yourself in that part of the world. I was made to wait outside, but several friendly people stopped by to give me a pat so that was OK.

Back at the cottage, I discovered a very comfy sofa, and I am allowed up there if I do not nip at Gail's hands too much when she is sitting besides me trying to read. (Why do humans read, by the way, it seems so boring when they could be playing with their dogs...)

Outside, Gail showed me a very special stone. The ashes from her old dog Hamish the Westie are buried under there.

I noticed Gail getting a wee bit tearful when she was telling me about this, so I bounced up and down a few times and tugged at the bottom of her shirt and tried my best to make her smile again.

It seemed to work.