Everybody knows this is nowhere
Three days, two camps, 36 miles of tramping between two Highland villages, and just enough weather to make us uncomfortable if not quite threatened. There was a bit more to it than that though. The walk started through parkland around Blair Castle. Mick met me from the train at Blair Atholl station. Fife had been bathed in sun but here amongst the hills the clouds were heavy and rain threatened. We walked up through Glen Tilt, losing layers as we went. In conversation we missed signs for a diversion from the path around a washed-out section of track. We weren't the first judging by the irate reaction of the contractors as we rounded the corner towards them. They let us past - just! Glen Tilt has a long history of habitation. We crossed the river to the west bank, continuing on into the wilder middle reaches of the glen. We passed the barest remnants of old crofts, just piles of grey rock now, and remains of drystone walls climbed the hillsides. Mick sensed an atmosphere, and I did