This weekend was the last Munro party of an old friend, so there was a gathering of aging reprobates in Glencoe. Dave's last hill was Stob na Broige, at the other end of the Buachaille from his first, Stob Dearg. A pleasing symmetry. The day was miserable, as is standard for such events.
My boots died on the last part of the walk out. I think they're going in the bin.
Back to the Kingy for a meal and ritual abuse of the other walkers we met (Did ye see that guy? What a twat!).
Great to meet some old faces again, after too long a gap.
A Sunday of gentle rain and reminiscences followed.
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