So much to do so little time
And then I'm just back from a few days of biking in Sierra Nevada. Fantastic trails, just my kind of riding and with lots of big climbs and long descents. Here is me wearing an impossibly large amount of clothing. Turns out it's quite cold still at 2300m and you get a sort of onion effect as you descend, with layers coming off one by one.
Just to top that (is it possible?) we've had all sorts of high days and holidays in April and May. A 78 mile bike ride round Dunoon with the 25 strong Glasgow Tri Club peleton was about the best way to spend the royal wedding (and avoid what turned out to be a riot in Glasgow - glad I wasn't running in Kelvingrove).
Then we headed North, stopping briefly at the Drumochter pass to run up three unpronouncable munros and still making it to the mountain cafe in time for a long black and chocolate cherry brownie. Then even further North (I'm starting to believe Inverness is in the South now) all the way to Lochinver. We camped by the sea and soaked in the amazing views and unusually balmy weather, while sipping wedding anniversary champagne. I was completely silenced by just how beautiful it was.No mean feat there.
It was wonderful not to be up too early on Sunday. Just a stroll along the headland to get to the point of Stoer. I'd agreed to 'lead' the swim pitch to get to the base of the climb but (thank goodness) someone had got there before us and left their Tyrolean in place. Much relieved, I managed to drag myself across. My core muscles are still hurting, it's much harder than it looks.
Same goes for the rest of the climb.
There was a whole lot of cursing and maybe a few tears. Definitely a resolution never to climb again (which is already waning). Even Neil agreed that it was a bit stiff for a VS. And perhaps only climbing once a year then expecting to swan up the hard stuff is a bit silly. But Neil did a great job of abbing back down to patiently talk me through the difficult bits and it was great to be at the top. Finally. And umm, then sort of great to trust my life to my ability to attach onto a rope and ab back down and hope I didn't land in the sea.
Finally, some more Munros to finish off the long weekend at Ben More Assynt and Conival. Close inspection of the Munro bible in the evening revealed that I'd just celebrated my 50th (and 51st) Munro. If I don't watch, I'm going to get a habit. Am I a closet Munro-bagger?