I had wanted to do an early morning walk to avoid the heat but I'd had a busy time the day before so it was a struggle to get out of bed at a time to catch the early light and cooler temperatures I wanted, particularly where I'd planned to go.
Indeed, as I set off behind schedule through the pea soup fog at 30mph it dawned on me that, with the forecast inversion, maybe something local would be a better plan. But would anything local nudge above the forecast cloud top of 450m?
As I got closer to our local hill, Fourman Hill (344m), I could see hints that this might be the case but I've been in that situation before where the cloud toys with dipping below the top but never does so I was prepared to write off the walk and revert to plan A if necessary.
No need for plan A though! I broke into the cloud/fog top level just before reaching the parking spot. Wasn't entirely convinced at this point that I would get a clear top but I got a good view over to Knock Hill's top sitting proud of the fog sea.

The sea I saw.
The way ahead was still pre-dawn murky and misty though and it wasn't yet possible to see if there would be a clear top. Didn't take long though for all the doubt to fall away as after another 100m of ascent I was standing on a seeming island with a familiar landscape now rendered other worldly with the glens flooded in cloud.


On an island.


I really couldn't move very much, or get my eyes away from the drama below with many differing patterns of cloud being illuminated by the pre-dawn diffracted light.
Is there any point in trying to describe such a scene? Just about every minute there was a subtle change in the view with the onslaught of the sunrise drawing closer and closer. And as an acoustic backdrop there was the usual dawn chorus dominated by what seemed a battle between two cuckoos or perhaps it was single cuckoo going cuckoo.


The sun starts to rise.












An image that lasts for what thirty seconds.

















Like a wind that blows though you, a view that passes through you.








I manage to tear my eyeballs away from the sunrise.


From near the top a view to Tap o' Noth and The Buck.

Tap o' Noth again.

Ben Rinnes.

On the way down the view is still mesmerising.



Happy with the morning to say the least. Fair to say I made the right decision.






Starting to look more familiar. When stripped of the inversion and sunrise this is still a very fine wee hill.


View east.


More typical Fourman scenery.

Was it all a dream? It feels that way now.