Beinn Lair

Last night in the tent was torture. I ended up in my sleeping-bag liner wrapped up like a death-shroud to hide from the clouds of midges that joined us inside the zips. The air was still and roasting. On the water of the Dubh Loch, a black-throated diver called eerily in the darkness. The pip of a sandpiper in the distance. 

Somehow we slept and woke when the sun hit the tent. Mercifully a breeze had appeared and we broke camp without doing the midge dance. 

We headed south and dumped the bags behind a boulder before heading onto the next Corbett. We reached the summit in 90minutes from leaving camp, glad of slightly cooler conditions. 

Back down, the sun was raising temperatures, but thankfully the breeze remained and accompanied us all the way back to Poolewe. Into the river to wash off the blood, sweat and ticks. 

Picture shows Mrs AB looking across Fionn Loch, our campsite at the causeway between lochs, yesterday's Corbett top right. 

Corbett #210