Sleeping in

Arrival at the bothy was with some trepidation.  The first door I opened was one of those oh shit moments when I thought the tent I'd caringly carried all that distance was going to come into its own ... but further investigation revealed the proper bothy.

Welcoming looking, eh?  It's weird stepping in, no idea what to expect in terms of space, "facilities" and whether anyone else will be resident.  Because of the various items left over time, you can't entirely be sure if these are the temporary trappings of a returning hiker or whether these are "useful things" left for the enjoyment of others.  There was a sleeping mat and a sleeping bag there amongst all the usual debris of candles, tea bags, flip flops, a discarded waterproof etc. but as darkness arrived it became apparent I was on my own for the night.

Except I wasn't alone.  Before I finally caved in and retreated to my bed in the unheated metal roofed hut, I was pleased to make the acquaintance of the bothy mouse.  With that for company and the roaring of rutting stags, it was going to be one hell of a long night.  But I was warm and I was dry, and all I needed to do was sit it out until morning.  I slept with my tea light on for the whole of the night, working on the theory that the flame might just put the mouse off actually coming onto the bed platform.  And the stag noises were at least predictable, and I believe I did actually sleep, snuggled up in the 4 seasons down bag. 

Early to rise the next morning at first light (I couldn't wait in honesty), morning saw the normal tea and porridge routine which I seem to carry with me wherever I wake up.  And then, aching everything, it was time to go find the van.  Just another four hours of walking to go, but at least this time, with the load lightened by the consumption of food and water the previous day.  Up and at them for the rolling restful walk back to Inverkirkaig via Lochinver and the moorlands.