We are currently 'between seasons' as the mountains are dragged kicking and screaming into summer. Spring has proved to be quite late this year; at our end of the glen the trees are only just starting to sprout into leaf, and there is no sign of the green fuzz on the hills that heralds the coming of the new season. Nevertheless, the killer thaw has hit long and hard, and most of the Munros hereabouts may now be climbed without winter gear, although an ice axe will be advisable for Bidean or Buachaille Etive Mor for a few weeks to come.
Thanks to an unfavourable run of shifts and a long week between days off, I've done nothing since the Grey Corries and am keenly feeling my absence from the mountains. To make up for my exile I have been planning the summer and working on the book. As far as writing is concerned, I am nowhere near the beginning of the end but I think I have at last gone beyond the end of the beginning; 72,000 words inspired by the Highlands and the Alps, and counting!
Hoping to get out on the hill tomorrow and also next week.