A Walk in Glen Tilt

[rhythmaning]

I had a glorious day hillwalking in Glen Tilt two weeks ago: the sun shone for much of the day (a bit too much: despite liberal application of suntan lotion, I managed to miss my right elbow, which became red, as did some hard-to-reach bits of my neck), and I hardly saw a soul from the time I left my car to when I got back to it, eight hours later. It was glorious and alone.

It was a long walk in before any real climbing - over the first five miles, I only went up 250m. It was really beautiful walking beside the river: lots of birds, lots of flowers (whole lists of flowers!), and I saw hare and a red squirrel. The river was quite lovely, too; there were beautiful rock formations gouged out by the flow.

I was strafed by an RAF fighter which roared down the valley: so low it was terrifying but joyful at the same time - so much noise, such speed. As it tore past, so low I felt I could touch it (I had my hands over my ears), the sound bounced around the valley walls, a physical rumbling. It came back several times, although once I was on the plateau I could only hear it in the valley below; on the walk out, it flew below me whilst I walked down a long ridge.

The hill itself wasn't up to much: more a pimple on the southern Cairngorm plateau - there are quite a few hills like that, just bumps out of the general height. But it was a hell of a climb onto the plateau.

It was remarkable to be so quiet (aside from the RAF, natch) and alone; not a soul; the hills were mine.

I had to drink loads of water, because of the sun and heat; I got through about three litres whilst I was out, and then I polished off a litre of 7Up whilst I scoffed fish and chips in Blair Atholl.

All in all, I reckon it was about eighteen miles or so; good practice for my next outing…

(Pictures will follow; sometime; when I have actually done anything with them.)