Craig and I had our first major Intrepid Scotland event late last week. I haven't posted about it before now on account of my stomach being in knots, awaiting the outcome of our application for a bank account; now up and running with a bit of an overdraft facility and awaiting payment for said session.
The day went well, although I'd prefer to say faultlessly for we fountains of great countryside knowledge, answering all questions authoritatively and dripping with anecdote, metaphor and professorial wisdom. Well, because our clients from that there big city London, didn't ask many questions and merely enjoyed the flawless blue sky weather, sitting in the warm sunshine with zingy, post barefoot walk feet exposed to the SSW fat old sun. They built their shelters, looked at the red squirrel chewed pinecones and had an unpalateable bite of smoked whitefish (Craig forgot to rinse the salt off prior to cooking - I loved it but was a bit thirsty afterwards).
Having declared they were up for a tramp around the Cardross Estate, I looked back to announce that we would go down to the river to spot Kingfishers. I looked back. Tongues were lolling, eyes glazing. "Let's go to the pub instead, we might see Ospreys" (As suggested by my wife Clare). I rarely time anything, correctly or otherwise, but that hit the spot. Courtesy of The Bank (not ours though), we were soon sipping pints and Appletizers (me), in the gardens of the Lake Hotel (Port of Menteith) and watching two pairs of Osprey fishing on the Lake of Menteith. They were dots really, but they were Osprey and that's all that mattered.
We were joined that day by Harry, a National Park seasonal, who is renting a room from me and is fit and mustard keen as only a 21 year old chap can be. He fitted right into the Intrepid way and made fire, talked more plant lore that you could shake a stick at and generally went down extremely well with our clients.
Oh dear, lunch time now.................... More later.
"Coming dear."
