Out-bounced!

BBB (Bouncing Bertie Boffin) here.

Can you even imagine how awesome it must be to land on a comet?

You would be bouncing with excitement. Well I would, for sure.

You know, when I bounce, I'll be honest with you, I only stay up in the air for a fraction of a second.

Now look at this picture of the European Space Agency's Philae lander last week hitting the surface of Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko for the first time. And then bouncing off again.




It was nearly two hours before Philae came down again the second time.

The next bounce lasted a 'mere' seven minutes.

Frankly I'd have been happy with that.

Earth's gravity field is such a drag.

Still waiting for my Shetland wool jumper

Of course you'll remember that Gail was given some lovely yarn spun from the fleece of the Shetland sheep who live next door to the Torridon cottage and belong to our neighbour, knitting enthusiast Julia.

Many of my talented and creative readers came up with grrrreat ideas for how this yarn could be converted into a manly sweater for yours truly.

You can imagine how disappointed I was when I saw the pattern Gail had chosen.

Yes, that's right. How could anyone be so selfish? She decided to knit a 'Nordic snowflake beanie' for herself.

Bor-ing!

Then when I objected (by giving the knitting needles a little chew) Gail tried to soften the blow by saying that this beanie is just a practice run, and claiming she will adapt the pattern to fashion a matching Nordic snowflake sweater pour moi, "in due course"....

You can see how impressed I was with that answer.

I supposed I'd better show you the picture of Gail wearing the finished product. I had never before thought of my human as vain, but having now seen how many 'selfies' were rejected before this one was finally deemed acceptable, I have revised my view.

I must say the texture of the wool when knitted up is particularly lovely. But personally, I think the hat would look better with a white pom pom on the top.

Do you agree?

Into Thick Air

I could have told Gail before we set off that there would be no good views from the top of Millstone Hill on Sunday morning.


As we ascended into the mist, the only thing to become clearer was the accuracy of my prediction.




Of course, you might think my presence at the summit counts as a 'good view'.


Which would be entirely reasonable.

The truth about Hamish on Stac Pollaidh

Bertie on Stac Pollaidh

Stac Pollaidh from Achnahaird beach 

The geographically astute amongst you might have already realised that, in passing by Gruinard Bay last Sunday, we were some distance from our usual Torridon patch.

Yes indeed, after a chilly Saturday night at the cottage (the ancient wood burning stove has been decommissioned and the new and hopefully much more efficient one not yet installed) we headed north along the breathtaking coastline for a wee November mini-break, staying two nights at Gail's favourite hotel, The Ceilidh Place in Ullapool.

Oh I could go on and on about what a smashing and dog-friendly hotel this is, but today, as the title suggests, I want instead to tell you something about my predecessor Hamish the Westie. Something I only learned when Gail and I climbed a renowned Assynt landmark, Stac Pollaidh, on Monday morning. Information that had hitherto been suppressed.

Red arrow points to Stac Pollaidh

Hamish accompanied Gail on her first ever visit to this eerily spectacular part of Scotland. He was still quite young (about my age now in fact). I'm always being told about what a capable hill climber the wee fellow was, despite his short legs and solid body. In fact Gail can be quite boring on the topic of his apparently first rate scrambling skills. Skills which I lack due to my higher centre of gravity.

Fellow pups, have you ever struggled to live up to your human's memories of an earlier pet?

Path up Stac Pollaidh

Well, as you can see from the pictures, Stac Pollaidh, although not high compared with many Scottish peaks, is steep and rocky towards the summit. Just the sort of scramble at which Hamish reputedly excelled.

Near the summit - Gail in camouflage

So it was only when we descended that Gail let slip, as if it were a minor detail, how she was quite relieved at not having to carry me down. And how it had always been hard to keep her balance while holding Hamish's ten plus kilograms against her hip on a precipitous descent.

Yes you read that right. Hamish the world famous mountaineering Westie had to be carried down from the summit of Stac Pollaidh. And from many other summits apparently. He was only ever any good at going uphill. He would just get to the top, sit down and refuse to budge, in his stubborn Westie way.

Oh you have no idea how much better I feel, having learned this.

Not that I'm competitive or anything….

View north towards Suilven (worth biggifying!)