I was staying in Pitlochry and decided to get up early to avoid all the people who would inevitably overtake me now I am 85. Luckily I didn't waste money on a paid for breakfast. Unluckily, my bleary eyes couldn't see where the "fill to" line was on the instant porridge pot, so I ended up drinking it. Yeuch. Luckily, the early departure meant I could choose from all but one of the parking spaces in the upper car park.

I set off at 6.30 a.m. through a tunnel of trees



I had hoped that I might have caught the sunrise, but the sun was hiding behind a shoulder of the hill. Out onto the moorland. These sheep aren't as tame as the ones I met on West Lomond the previous week, but tamer than the real highland sheep who scarper as soon as they see you


More moor


Past the lochan, it started to get steeper


I had been overtaken by now by a 70 year old man and his two spaniels, and a woman who overtook both of us


A second guy overtook me just before I got to the summit, and kindly took my photo. He was a lawyer and had been involved in organising the repair of the stone steps further down. The three previous times I had climbed Ben Vrackie, there were only steps on the final ascent, but it must get far too eroded to leave to its own devices. The lawyer had a traineeship in St. Andrews and knew the partner who had charge of a shop belonging to a Trust. Probably not wanting to tread on the toes of any of his local friends, or possibly because he had been in a poetry writing group with my business partner, he had leased it to our second-hand book combo, thereby allowing us to get in from the cold of a market stall, and starting my 36 years in the business (Though we were thrown out of that particular shop when we objected to someone wanting it for a supermarket, 100 yards from the West Port with no parking. )





A very speedy guy overtook me. It turned out he was a postie, which might explain the speed.
Sorry that there are no photos of all the compulsory spaniels that then invaded the hill in ones, twos and threes, or of the eighty eight year old lady who had been sitting by the lochan, but started up the hill when someone told her there had been an 85 year old on top. She had spent many happy summer in the Alps so was probably better equipped to climb Ben Vrackie. than me.

By the time I got back at 11.30 a.m. I was unsurprised to find both car parks were full: it had been such a beautiful morning sticking out from this very indifferent summer.