After an unaccountably sociable year, with three weekend meetings and a newsletter launch party, it's back to whatever passes for normality in 2005. Each year seems to produce a healthy mix of old friends and new faces. The first two gatherings, in 1999 and 2000, featured boats and islands, and the next two were on the coast, so after a couple of inland years it's back to the coast for 2005. See you there. If you didn't make the 2004 meetings, here's a taste of what you missed:
The weather wasn't brilliant for the well-attended main gig in June but it was okay, there was the rare discovery of a new Marilyn, a comfortable if noisy hostel, fine hospitality from the hotel, and a virtuoso Dylan-meets-Statto routine from Dave Hewitt. You really had to be there to appreciate the spiritual quality of the Neil Young adaptations, but here's one anyway:
I was lying in an ancient camper van
With a strange gleam in my eye
I was torn and tired, and GOML shy
I had kissed Myarth goodbye
When I had a dream
A crazy dream
Of a scene more fair than this
Soaring through the sky, to section 25, for the last hills in the list
Soaring through the sky, to section 25, for the last hill in the list
Well I dreamed I saw the silver spaceship shining
In the yellow haze of the sun
There were gannets gliding, and puffins flying
All around the chosen one
And I was like them
Just one of them
And my heart was filled with pride
Flying up the wall, of Stac Lee's cliffs, with an alien as my guide
Landing on the top, of Stac Lee's cliffs, a little grey man by my side
Well I thought I saw the shores of Hirta glisten
Like a green jewel in the sea
There were dolphins playing
And children sailing
And the warden made us tea
And all of my friends gathered there to see
I could not believe my luck
As I entered the date, in RHB, of the last hill in the book
Entering the date, in RHB, of the last bag in the book
Many thanks to all who came to this weekend to remember Paul, making it a weekend for me to enjoy rather than dread. The weather and company were great for Cnap Cruinn on the Saturday, where we surprisingly met a couple of baggers on top. The B&B was a much wiser choice than the hostel, and the singing and dancing in the hotel were an unexpected bonus; far preferable to the threatened karaoke.
An October meet at Milehouse in Kincraig was to celebrate the 70th birthday of Hamish Brown (the Master) and his 1000th Dawson (Hamish's term for Marilyns). What an interesting weekend - much talk of relative hills, Corbett and Graham Tops (whatever they are) and other sundry lists. The Saturday was dry and gave me an excellent day out on three Monadhliath Munros and the adjacent Graham (you can see I was trained by the Master). I arrived back last at Kincraig and so avoided the queue for the shower. Then on to dinner at the renowned Ossian Hotel for a grand meal and a lot of capital talk, which continued in the hut well into the night. The Sunday was all adieus and cornflakes, as we went our different ways again, me to further the Graham cause and to do some work on the club hut as penance for having a good time. Many thanks to all who attended and to Hamish for inviting us.