A lovely day!

I always said I wouldn't blog unless I had something to blog about. On the weeks that I don't get out for a notable walk, I often have lots of things I'd like to blog about, but decide there is not enough of substance to actually type it out. Although I set up this blog to write about my Munro-bagging and how it was helping me overcome my anxiety, I did not set a time limit on the bagging. I intend to - and I will - conquer every peak over 3,000 feet in Scotland during my life - but I don't expect this to happen any time soon.

I planned to get longevity from this blog by making that an ongoing target. However I'm regularly asked when my next Munro will be, and I realise this blog has evolved from my original intentions into a blog about walking, the benefits of walking, and Scottish fresh air! I'm absolutely fine about that, so I hope my readers are too! I sometimes feel bad that I'm not bagging Munros quicker - but then I remind myself that there was never a time limit, and that if you stick with me, I will deliver. I don't intend to rush round the peaks - I intend to savour each one.

I feel I have evolved in myself in many ways - my horizons have been broadened and I appreciate far more than I did before. I realise how lucky I am to live in a country such as this, and I truly enjoy getting 'in amongst it', as it were. I have enjoyed my foray into long distance walking, and perhaps am starting to focus on this more than the Munros. But the Munros will always be there - I just need to be in the right place to conquer them.

So I have tried to resist blogging about the more mundane aspects of my life (I think) and would rather have a gap between posts than a story about my trip to the shops, or how I cleaned my flat.

This weekend was the first weekend in a while where literally nothing was planned. That was a nice feeling! And I didn't really intend to blog, but yesterday was just so full of material for here, I couldn't resist.

Dave and I decided - around mid-morning yesterday - to take a drive out west to Glengoyne. A tour guide collecting distillery vouchers on every visit soon makes for an unavoidable day of spending those hard-earned vouchers. So off we went towards Stirling, and unexpectedly I had a rush of nostalgic feelings. To go from driving up the M9 at least 4 times a week for years, to rarely going that way, it was surely inevitable that memories would return.

My Aunty and I always reminisce about the time a few years ago when we were driving up the A9 to Hopeman. When we reached the Broxden roundabout outside Perth I said, during a conversation about guiding, 'this is where Mary Queen of Scots died'. Que silence - confusion - and then clarity: 'in my story, in the morning, this is where Mary dies'. I would know if my timing was on or off if her head remained whilst waiting at the lights at the roundabout.

Driving anywhere in Scotland will bring back memories such as these, Stirling almost more than most places. So I wallowed in my nostalgia for a while, until we got closer to Glengoyne, where the only nostalgia I was feeling was well and truly for the West Highland Way. A happy, happy time, I can't believe the weeks are marching by since then.

Andrew and I hadn't deviated from the path to the distillery, but as I arrived and as we were leaving yesterday, walkers were coming in and out. Crossing the road back to the car park, I spied the swish of tartan out the corner of my eye. Four handsome laddies were striding towards me (okay, towards the distillery), with full kilt regalia and walking sticks - nay, branches.

What a sight - and one I couldn't resist but photographing.

 Lovely guys - and wild camping the whole way - brave!!

I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement, of being part of an exclusive club of West Highland Way walkers (or maybe rather large club), of being able to say 'yeh, I walked it back in March'.

From Glengoyne we made our way towards Drymen (more memories), and then Balmaha (more memories). Dave and I took a stroll alongside the loch, me feeling a weird mixture of tour and walking nostalgia.

Dave taught me a very valuable lesson in walking at this point - if you spend all your time looking at your feet, you'll miss quite a lot. In this example, I walked straight past the fifth braw, hairy Highlander of the day:

After Hamish posed happily for us, he resumed munching his way across the hillside, and as we walked away I turned and noted quite a few walkers walking straight past him, oblivious. Must look up more.

I managed to persuade Dave to walk up the hill to the viewpoint, because I can't stand to be in Balmaha and not stand with one foot in the Highlands and one foot in the Lowlands. We were very glad we did too, as we bumped into a Rabbies guide and his very interesting tour group. The next thing we knew, a young couple from his tour appeared and announced their engagement, he having proposed on the way up the hill - one of those heart-warming moments where everything feels right with the world.

Then a group of West Highland Way walkers appeared - and we wished them well for the rest of their walk. Someone said 'you're going to have a great time', to which the walkers responded 'we already are!' - again, I felt an affinity with them, and wanted to walk north with them!

As we left the tour group to their view, Dave spotted yet another exciting sight on our way down the hill. Two deer!

This day couldn't possibly get any better - yet hot chocolate in the Oak Tree Inn proved that it could!

From there we decided to drive back via Fintry, a route neither of us had taken before. Wow - what a drive! The views of the Campsie Fells were great, and soon we were driving alongside Carron Valley reservoir. A great drive, only hindered slightly by the natives:

Cows, deer and sheep, whisky, warmth and walkers, views and nostalgia. All wrapped into one breezy May day! To end, homemade mojitos.

I couldn't let this day go without writing about it. In amongst having worries and concerns, and being concerned about worrying, a day like this stands out.