The night before going up Maol Cheann-Dearg my pal and I stopped off at the Coire Fionnaraic bothy. It had been cold, misty and with the odd snow flurry. After crossing the bridge before the bothy I remember a feeling of being followed and a presence passing me by eventually, something passing with great urgency and no care for me thankfully. When I got to the bothy I searched every room having heard a strange creaking. Nothing! (As I am sure you expected). That night I pulled out a bottle of Whisky and made regular trips to the nearby river to top up water. A silhouette stood ahead of me in the middle of the water, panicked but curious I drunkenly stumbled forward and reached out to it, it reached back
.With a crash and a splash I fell through this eerie figure, My right arm stretched up in the air clutching the unfinished whisky bottle upright. I pulled myself up, running, stumbling, tumbling back to the bothy. The bothy filled with smoke, my friend in a fit of coughing a red eyed. A strange sound piercing our ears through the air, forcing us back outside. Back in we go and wide awake, not daring to shut our eyes. The next thing I knew it was morning, we set of for the hill rather unsettled all day.
Well that's the version I like to tell. Much better than the version that goes...I’m the worlds slowest walker and people that left 20min after me overtook me. My knee was a little stiff and noisy form the arthritis. Had a wee nosy round a bothy. Drank too much, got a bit wet in the river (stayed on my feet) , went back to the bothy where my mate had accidently closed the back of the fire and set of the carbon monoxide alarm leaving us with red raw streaming eyes, then stayed up way to late finishing the drams. Woke up rough, swore never to drink before a walk again then spent the day bickering on the hill with my mate as we were both hung over.