It was going to be as soon as the travel restrictions lifted. A day in the mountains. Nothing, but nothing, was going to stand in my way. Not even the totally lousy weather forecast. Iain soon gave up on any attempts to disuade me. He just about managed to stop me from driving to the 4.99 miles boundary in the late hours of 2nd July with the intention to immediately set off for the mountains as soon as midnight had struck and Friday 3rd July began.
Overcast and grey, very windy and heavy rain. Long trudges over boggy terrain, no views or shelter at the summit, midges galore, hefty doses of leaking waterproofs. All the ingredients that would usually make a summer mountain day extremely sigh-worthy. But after over three months enforced distancing from the moutains neither of us cared.