Knife Edge.

Running along the north side of Glencoe, a deep glaciated valley with a long, sometimes barbourous history, is a long, steep-sided mountain ridge.I like ridge walking; I have climbed many of the ridges in the Scottish mountains - Liatach, An Teallach, and much of the Skye Cuillin - including the Inaccessible Pinnancle, an ill-named, very exposed blade of rock sticking out of (and a very little higher than) Sgurr Alasdair. To climb the Inn Pinn, you need ropes - it is the only one of the 283 Scottish mountains recognised as being over 3,000 feet ("Munros") for which you do need ropes.

But the Aonach Eagach comes close. And it is much, much harder than the rest of the Cuillin: once you have reached the ridge, an hour and a half's climb, there is only one way to go. And the scrambling is incessant for four or five hours, without a break.

It was foggy, as it was when I climbed the Inn Pinn, which I think was an advantage: it stops one thinking of the possible dangers when you can't see down.

It is a narrow path along the top of the ridge, and lots of ups and downs - pinnacles - that require scaling and scrambling. On Liatach and An Teallach, there are ways to avoid the more uncomfortable pinnacles; on the Cuillin, whilst the ridge is precipitous, there are lots of flat bits in between those that require scrambling. The Aonach Eagach lacks both alternative routes around the pinnacles and much space in between. Certainly nowhere to stop.

I quite enjoy scrambling, but the intensity of the Aonach Eagach is just wearing. And it is not an easy scramble - it is the most difficult route before it becomes real mountain climbing (what I do I usually describe as walking!). The guide I and two others hired - absolutely essential, I reckon, and I couldn't have done it without him - had to direct me a fair bit - where to put my hands and feet. There was a lot of stretching between hand- and footholds - my limbs ached for several days after. There were many times when I couldn't see what was below me; the was one moment when I had to stretch my leg down and down a bit more, and I could feel my hands losing their grip, and I couldn't see how far I would fall. It turned out to be about two inches. But timed stopped...

At other points, the path was barely a foot wide on the ridge, with sheer drops on each side. I happily surrendered my dignity and crawled along, one hand and one foot on each side of the ridge.

I am pleased to sat that I shall not be climbing the Aonach Eagach again. I may well climb the first (eastern) Munro again, from the north. The second, westerly Munro I have climbed before. It was actually the first Munro I ever climbed, before I knew any better. I was staying at the Clachaig, a pub at the west of the glen, in 1987 or '88. It was a glorious early summer day. I had had a pint and lunch, and I noticed a path going up the hillside opposite the pub. So I climbed up, right to the top. Several years later, I read "this route should be avoided... a hazard... Not recommended".

(The cloudy photos were taken on this trip. These sunny photos were taken on a - sunnier - trip last year. I must have many old, black and white photos of Glencoe and the Aonach Eagach amongst my negatives. Another scanning project, perhaps...)

Brewery. Piss Up.

Back in September, I went across to Glasgow for the first time in over a year. It was "Doors Open" day (conveniently, they hold Doors Open days on different weekends for Glasgow and Edinburgh - a lot of people visit both cities, I think).

A friend had booked several tickets for the Tennents' Wellpark Brewery, and a group of us went across for it.

But we started off - after we'd left the first bar we visited, of course - at Barrowland. Or Barrowlands. Officially the former, but everybody adds an "S". Barrowlands is a dancehall, which nowadays means it's a rock venue. Possibly the most famous venue in Scotland. It is a standing - dancing, even - venue; a London equivalent might be the T&C, the Lyceum, or the Hammersmith Palais.

I have been several times - though not recently. I've seen Elvis Costello there, PJ Harvey, Tricky, and Portishead; maybe more. I'll be back there to see the Waterboys next month.

It is set in the east end of Glasgow, and houses "the Barras" market underneath the dancehall. It isn't a salubrious area. When I mentioned to (a Glaswegian friend) that I'd be going to Barrowlands in December, he told me not to take my car because it might not make it through the night... He is of course exaggerating. It is perfectly safe. As long as it's green.

Anyhow, Barrowlands is the major Scottish rock venue, and has been for decades. A place of legend.

We wandered around for Doors Open. It was a bit odd, frankly, being there and there not being any music. But I got to go backstage. Where I saw the stars.

The dressing rooms are decorated with stars. A lot of stars take the stars off the wall, which is why there are blank patches of plaster.

A little further east is the Wellpark Brewery, a large site near the Necropolis (itself a great place to visit) and cathedral. Wellpark is brewing on a truly industrial scale. It is huge. Vast tanks hold hundreds of thousands of gallons of beers; towering hoppers contains hundreds of tons of grain. During the week, it runs around the clock, with downtime at the weekend for repairs and maintenance. The whole site is computerised, and fewer than 100 people are needed to run it.

It was a fascinating tour.

The tour ended in their sampling room. Free beer. Whoo hoo! Except that frankly the beer was tasteless. I don't wish to sound ungrateful - it was a great tour, a fascinating place - but I don't like the beer they make. We left to have supper (at another brewery) without finishing our pints.