Glenshee in the fog!

[Keithyboy]

Mair holidays t' tak, an' nithin' t' dee,
Efter a look o' the map, ahm thinkin' Glenshee.
Pal Chris is aff ena, an' he's got his loon, Ewan,
They're keen t' dee een, but ahm needin' a few in.
'We'll tak the tents, an' weel pitch haf wye roon',
So we loadit up the car, an heeded west, oot o' toon.
Denner at Abyne, then oot thru Braemar,
Found the layby we needed, an' parkit the car.
Ewan's only thirteen, nivver deen this afore,
Dad ses 'you'll be fine son', he's nae lookin se sure.
Near the tap o' Carn an Tuirc, wi' it's steep rocky grun,
They're baith lookin' at me, 'aye, an ye dee this for fun?!'.
Baith o' them toilin', Ewans startin' t' lag,
An' right bang on cue, here comes the clag.
Efter Cairn of Claise an' Tolmount, we decide at'll dee,
It's a pea-souper noo, bit at least wiv got three.
Get up in the mornin' t' mair o' the same,
If it wis jist doon t' me, ahd be heedin for hame.
It's rainin' an' foggy, so we mibbe jist should,
Bit wir here onywye, as weel dee Tom Buidhe.
We decide wir gan for it, Glas Maol is the next een,
Ewan's on his phone, he's got signal, so he's textin'.
For fit seems like forivver, we trail across grass,
Bit we ken that efter es een, Creag Leacachs the last.
Fae Glas Maol t' Creag Leacach, wir jist followin' a dyke,
An ahm gutted that it's foggy, an' ah canna see fit its like.
Gang ower t' the edge t' hae a look ower the side,
Bit ah'v nae heed for hichts, so the middle ahl bide!
Efter mair foggy fotys, ats a' six wiv noo deen,
We jist need back t' the car, for dry claes, socks, an' sheen.
A direct route doon, bitty steep t' be funny,
Bit wir oot o' the fog, an' it's noo even sunny.
Leave the lads at the layby, 'boot three mile fae the car,
Ah start wakkin' wi' ma thumb oot, an' dinna hae t' wakk far.
A lad gan t' Ullapool, in search o' some sun,
Appreciate the lift sir, this road bits nae fun.
Heed back for the lads, an' change inta dry stuff,
Got six deen, think for Ewan tho, ats enough!

[mrssanta]

anither grand een