Neil Scott

Important thing I learned this weekend: it is easier to imagine the end of the world from your armchair than it is when lying in a tent that is being battered by a gale.

We went camping on the east coast of Loch Lomond on Friday to prepare for my going to Latitude (I haven’t put up a tent for eleven years) and to prepare for TEOTWAWKI (my survival skills run to a couple of badges earned at Cubs).

Everything went well. Driving was fine, putting up the tent was fine, chatting to my camouflage-clad fellow campers was fine and cooking burgers was fine. It was only sleeping that proved to be an issue. Not only is camping really quite uncomfortable, but the wind howled all night long. It would die down for a second AND THEN ROAR AGAIN, never allowing me to go into the deepest level of sleep. In this restless state, I tried to picture myself fleeing the cannibal gangs who had invaded the city but it was no use. I was camping in a campsite, no matter what I tried to tell my mind. Sometimes, it seems, the senses are overwhelmed by reality that they can’t imagine any other possibilities.

The next morning, we got up dozily and set out for Rowardennan where we proceeded to conquer Ben Lomond in a leisurely 6 hours. Again the wind (usually my least favourite element) proved violent but there weren’t too many crags or sheer drops to worry about. Here is me shortly before reaching the summit:

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