From each according to his abilities

The last day of our stay. My friends are seriously fit runners and have done week-long holidays together walking in the high alps, incorporating some roped-together stretches - one of them falling (unhurt) through snow into a crevasse on one trip. I. Am. Not. They decided to climb Goat Fell by the 'hard' route: an 8km walk in, a scramble up to a saddle, a walk along an exposed rocky ridge, past some quite technically challenging obstacles, and a stiff final climb to the top. I. Decided. Not

I walked in with them, smiled for the selfie, waved them goodbye and returned down the other side of the valley beside the powerful river below the peak. It's a lovely walk through varied country, and now I wasn't struggling to keep up with them I had time to take endless pictures of cascading water in front of granite peaks - also several shots of empty space where stonechats used to be. In the end, though, it's this distant, evening picture of the peak that best shows its moody presence

It also shows the type of spruce plantation that I walked through, thinking about the eerie silence of a wood with little bird life, my footfalls silenced by the thick carpet of undecomposed needles, so unnaturally slow to be recycled into the earth, and taking care to avoid the trip hazard of all the surface roots protruding from the ground, unable to penetrate the thin waterlogged soils and offer security against the westerly gales. 

Closer to town there were happier beech woods, with an under-storey of rowan and vegetation at ground level. Worryingly, though, there were also some enormous rhododendrons and drafts of Himalayan balsam - both looking beautiful, if you don't understand the consequences of their presence. They say ignorance is bliss

My friends reached the top and came down the popular route on the other side. We enjoyed food and Arran beer together, each satisfied with our achievements