Milling with a drill press. (attempting)

David Brown 996 hydraulic pump. Checking measurement of pump parts, read...

Refitting the final drive. to David Brown 996 diff lock side.

David Brown 996 brake drum removal from final drive.

Fitting brake anchor peg. Fitting new brake shoe linings.

Machining David Brown 996 brake shoe anchor pin. Part 1.

David Brown 996 wing and final drive removal.

David Brown 996 hydraulic pump removal.

Drilling .5mm holes part 2. Right Ram shaft bracket investigation.

Pressure test re machined hydraulic pump.

Trying to drill 0.5mm holes in a David Brown 996 hold valve part.

Drill press upgrade part 1 (Teething troubles)

David Brown 996 ,repairs to lift arm pins.

Removing David Brown 996 cab with Fordson Major and Kubota back actor/hoe and more.

What I do now after 2 strokes. Removing stuck bolts & forming new tin work for the David Brown 996.

Part 1,David Brown 996 PTO plate removal and Part 2 David Brown 996 Hyd...

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8 Weeks later

8 Weeks later

     After getting rear ended waiting to turn at a junction by a young newly qualified driver and a two year wait for a 3rd operation on my wrist, I was marooned for 8 weeks. Not allowed to drive for 8 weeks either, a tad frustrating one could say.  After the operation with my Titanium plates screwed into my wrist to hold it together I was pretty weak for a week or so. The general anaesthetic knocked me for 6, it's about an hour = 1 week to recover, per hour you're under I have found. Others may vary. You have to get yourself into a routine or you'd go mad sitting around at home.

   Mine was wait till every one left, pull on the giant condom over my arm and jump into a nice hot bath for a soak in the morning. Getting out of the bath was a wee bit challenging in the early days with only my left hand working as I am right handed. A bite to eat while watching tv and wait for the postie to call for a quick chat. Then back to the old tv or just a potter about - the days could be quite long till someone came home. 

Me stuck on the sofa.

  Anyway on the 7th week of being frustrated  I was taken away for the weekend to a hotel in Birnam by Blair Atholl. A wee treat so to speak, except still could not drive and had to wear a wrist support as the plaster was long gone.
Had a tour about Perthshire on the first day doing the tourist things. Wildlife park at Comrie was quite good with the goffers tunnelling and popping out all over the place.
  Day 2 a damn fine cooked breakfast in the hotel to start off with and then a trip to the Hermitage near Dunkeld. Due to having an early start there was no one about on the short walk up from the car park.
   After looking about the Hermitage headed north up the A9 for my first Munro for a while. This would be my 20th Munro of 2010, that year I would climb another 4 Munros and a Corbett later in the year. A wee bit keener then than I have been in 2013/14&15 just 8 Munros and 7 this year2015 and I had climbed Ben Hope before. Also the Munro's weren't so far away as they are now, as I've climbed all the near hand ones now.
Meall Chuaich would be my 108th Munro and the last one on the East side off the A9 left to climb.
  After a pit stop at a roadside café we made our way to the starting point, which as usual was the hardest bit to find - there is a lay-by on the south bound side opposite a small plantation of trees just North of Dalwinnine about 1.5 km, found the lay-by and got geared up.
  Set off through a gate and according to the map there was a track to the north and a track to the south. After a close study of the map I plumped for north later to find out I should have gone to Specsavers !
  The south track did look better with it's well made metal road but the burn was shown on the map with a path running along it on the south side. I just looked at memory map and that path wasn't there any more.  So I made my way along the muddy path heading east and came on a board that had been shot to hell for target practice, that's why there were bones lying about the place. On ward east and the path took off across the burn to the north to a gate in a very high fence but I could see the metal road to the south across about 100m of heather and up a wee bank, opted for south through the heather.
 So if you have had a big operation on your wrist which is still strapped up what would be the worst thing that could happen? My right foot went down into this narrow trench which was hard to see in the heather and about two feet deep and clatter, a face plant into the ground battering my poor wrist in the process. Also the 1 litre bottle of water I had in the side pocket of my rucksack went rattling down into the trench never to be seen again. May have used a few expletives as a wave of pain shot through my poor wrist. Picked my self up, my foot a wee bit wet but the boots kept the water out of me socks phue!. Big question now was will I have enough water? By good luck I worked a 2 bottle system. A small bottle in the bottom pocket of my rucksack and a 2ltr bottle in my rucksack. Came to the conclusion that  I could make it after all it would only be one hill.
   Got going again treading more carefully at any dark looking patches in the ground and made a b line for the metal road. Hard going through the long heater and a short steep climb on to the road.
Made it and a hard metal road lay ahead following the water to the power station at Cuaich.
  Feeling ok now I walked on a bit fitter now made good progress to the power station at Cuaich.
It's a good track in, so if you wanted to take a bike there would be no prob.
Cuaich Power Station.

 After here the road is not so good but still a good metal road with around 2 km till you get to Loch Cuaich and the stalkers hut. Good place to leave a bike and walk from here.
Meall Cuuaich  ahead. The road after the power station.
 Onward along the track with Meall Chuaich getting bigger all the time,

when I arrived at the shooters hut I stopped for a cupper and a snak.
If you came on a bike this would be a good place to leave it.

After my rest stop and a few pain killers I set of along the track to start the climb,
Over the bridge and straight ahead up through the heather, a fair walk in to get to the start.


Passing Loch Cuaich on the way. As you climb up and look back seeing the track stretching for what seems like miles, hmmm wish I could ride a bike still. Going to be a long walk out.

 The walk out twisting in the distance.
Noting for it but to go up, not to hard going with the short grass and a steady climb. ( Who are you kidding I was knackered, first walk for 10 weeks  and a big opp too.)   :-)  Had to use the tried and tested plod mode, just keep putting one foot in front of an other and eventually you get to the top.


The path was not that steep, quite stony but a steady climb. I could see the top  from here, getting excited I would soon be there just keep ploding onward. It was a nice day not to cold, sun shining.
26/9/2010 the first snow of the winter had fallen on the high Cairngorms the night before.

Murder in Torridon?

Murder in Torridon?

A True Tale of the Mountains.

 

Written by the late Douglas Williamson of Lumsden Aberdeenshire.

With permission to publish kindly granted by his widow  Mrs. Alison Williamson of Lumsden Aberdeenshire, a keen reader of my blog.

 

 

It was April  1961 when Iain,Harrold,Douglas and Bill set out for Torridon

in Iain's car. Bill worked in the drawing office of an engineering firm; the

others were Ph.D. students at Glasgow University. We arrived at the

SYHA Hostel at Inveralligin on the north shore of Loch Torridon.

planning to climb Beinn Eighe the next day, which blew a gale with

horizontal rain. After a few hours of struggling just to stand on the

quarzite scree but making little progress even on hands and knees, we gave

up and retreated to the joys of the 'Modem Mistress', as the stove in the

hostel was named  in cast iron letters. The only other occupants, a party of

four, had gone home but there was now a stocky, tough chap in ex-army

gear. He said he was lan Simpson, was camping by the shore and wanted

a bit of warmth and company. A doctor at  the State Mental Hospital at

Carstairs, he just wanted away from it all for a bit.

    That evening, he spoke very  knowledgeably about mental hospitals,

but turned out to be argumentative, proposing that morals had no

defensible basis and challenging us to disagree, which we strongly did - to

our probable  salvation  did we but know. I, Douglas, took a few flash

photographs in the hostel common room though Simpson was extremely

reluctant to be included. However, he obviously knew the area extremely

well and offered advice on approaching the local peaks, warning that the

'Horns of Alligin' should be treated with care as they had been the cause

of fatalities in the past. The next day, Iain and Harold had to return to

Glasgow in the car and, when Simpson heard this being discussed, he

asked  for a lift to lnverness as he needed a haircut and various provisions.

This was readily  agreed and the three left after breakfast, with Bill and I

setting out for Beinn  Alligin.

        We got back triumphant but  tired after a great day, made some

supper and soon went to bed, the only occupants both of the hostel and its

male dormitory, which was a wooden hut in the grounds. A bit after

midnight. I was wakened by a person entering the dormitory and using a

unusual torch with the beam  at  right angles to the barrel. I was annoyed  at

being thus wakened and pretended to be fast asleep, and Bill took a similar

view. The person soon went out. ln the morning, we went up to the main

hostel to get breakfast , whereupon Bill discovered that his food had been

ransacked. We quickly checked our belongings. spread out on adjacent

beds in the dormitory, and realised that my camera was definitely missing.

We both had a suspicion that the intruder might have been Simpson as he

had had the same unusual pattern of torch. In the wet ground outside

there were fresh boot-nail marks and, unusually even then he had worn

nailed boots. But surely he was in Inverness with our friends, so it

couldn't be him. We reported the incident/loss to the warden. Kenny

McDonaid (also shop owner, grave digger, shepherd, garage man and

ferryman, etc.), who phoned Kinlochewe police and had the local bus

stopped but there was nobody on it.

Meanwhile, we phoned Iain and Harold in Glasgow, who told us the

significant news that on the previous day, when they had reached

Achnasheen. Only 20 miles on the way to Inverness, Simpson had asked to

be left there, since he claimed to have belongings, including a motor

scooter stashed  away in a nearby ruined croft. He would make his own

way to Inverness later. By now we were deeply suspicious and checked

information at Glasgow and Carstairs, discovering that there was no

'Doctor ' Simpson, and the police were  told all this.

A couple  of months later, I received I call from the police who said

they had now identified Ian Simpson. "a bad lad" as they said. He had a

string of convictions for petty theft, but was  self-styled pastor of his

own church in Mothewell, a corrugated iron shack, which had a

congregation of around 100 trusting, innocent souls. His last prosecution,

indeed had been for theft of communion vessels from the local church

of Scotland to furnish his own. Subsequently, he had been committed to

Carstairs State Mental institution from which he had escaped and was on

the run when we met him. Sure, he had Carstair's connection but as a

patient not staff! lf he could stay out for 28 days, the law then required

that the process of certification be re-enacted. "No wonder," said the

Police, "he objected to you taking the photograph, and he undoubtedly

came back with the particular purpose of obtaining the camera which he

would then throw in the loch. We have a warrant for his arrest and

we'll find him." (It is another of the coincidences of this tale that

Simpson, it emerged at the trial, had undertaken courses at a Bible

Training College of which my father was principal administrator.)

      Around Easter the following year, the action moves to Craig Youth

Hostel, on the coast north of Diabaig, in a very remote spot about I0 miles

from lnveralligin, only reached by an indistinct footpath over moorland.

Shan, a Canadian researcher student colleague, and her friend Bridget, a

languages lecturer, went there to survey the property with regard to

summer opening. Bridget being the warden. When they arrived, they

found a mathematics student from a London College, who pleaded to be

allowed to stay, although the hostel was not formally open. He also said

that the man who had given him a lift was on his way, having stopped to

buy provisions. The girls agreed and the man duly turned up, introducing

himself plausibly as "lan Fraser", a biologist  at the Ben Eighe Nature

Reserve. When Shan revealed that she worked in the Chemistry

Department of Glasgow University, Fraser pleasantly recalled that he had

met  several people she might  know the previous year at Achmelvich: Iain,

Douglas and Harold! (A curious, self-defeating lie about location.) For

Shan. The  penny immediately dropped and she realised the real identity of

'Fraser' as she had heard our story from the previous year. The two girls

went up to their room, and after closing the door, Shan got an amazed

Bridget to help her move the wardrobe in front of it, while recounting the

whole tale. In the morning, the girls hastened the several miles to the

nearest phone at  Diabaig and called the police, who said they needed to

acquire some paperwork to arrest Fraser/Simpson but meanwhile to "keep

him under observation" and "he's not violent". They explained their

predicament with some irritation and apprehension, but nothing else could

be done. They returned to discover that Fraser/Simpson had disappeared

and the mathematics student knew nothing. On their return to Glasgow,

we heard the whole story and told the police the details, most of which

they already knew. (It is now known that Fraser actually went on to

Achmelvich Youth hostel, where he spent a couple of days then left,

coolly stealing an antique chest whose considerable value he had

recognised.)

            About a month later, I was working in my laboratory when my

supervisor came in stroking his neat moustache, a sure sign of perturbation

and trouble. "Douglas, there is a Detective Sergeant Brown in my office;

he wishes to see you." "Thanks John, I can imagine what that's about." "I

dare say you can," he said, continuing to stroke his moustache with

increased frequency. DS Brown said, "Have you seen the evening paper?"

"No I haven't been out."  He held up the front page which, under banner

headlines exclaiming 'A9 Killer Arrest' , displayed a recognisable picture

of Simpson/Fraser. For a couple of weeks, a double murder had gripped

the press, following the discovery of a body in a shallow grave near

Newtonmore and a couple of weeks later another, similarly, in a wood

near Dumfries. Both had been shot at close range. The number of a car

which seemed to be connected with the crimes (it had belonged to one of

the victims) had been noticed and traced. The trail eventually led to

Simpson's rooms in Manchester, where a huge amount of loot had been

found; he worked as an antique dealer and may have stolen to order.

   In August 1962, he was tried and convicted, but sentenced to be

detained at Her Majesty's pleasure since he was found to be certifiably

insane. It transpired that he believed he was God's vice-regent on Earth,

with a commission to rid the world of evil men. He worked by pretending

to reject morals: if you argued against him you were safe, but if you

agreed you were marked down for death. Fortunately, I and my friends

plus the mathematics student were saintly or just argumentative.

Piecing things together, we realized that, when he gave the lift to the

student and arrived at Craig, he had just  killed the man at Newtonmore,

and when he left, after a couple of weeks, he went South back to

Manchester and en route killed the second man at Dumfries. So the girls

(and the mathematics student who clearly argued) spent a night at a lonely

Craig under the same roof as the murdering psychopath (complete with

gun), said to be non-violent. At the trial, for which I was cited as a witness

but not required, a one time climbing friend related how on Liathach,

roped to Simpson, he was brought up to the ledge on which Simpson was

secured. Simpson untied the rope, smiled and pushed his partner off. He

fell about a hundred feet over rough scree and boulders, sustaining severe

cuts and bruises. He walked away, resolving never to see Simpson again.

Aware of this story, I recall Simpsons warning to us about the 'Horns of Alligin'. He had added "a girl fell to her death there" and then with a

smile I can never quite forget, a mixture of pride and triumph, he went on

"I was the only one that found the body." I sometimes wonder about that.

    There is a solemn and dramatically violent ending, which also had a

moral dimension. Simpson was first confined at Carstairs, and then

for a long period at Craig Dunain, Inverness where he took a

distinguished Open University degree and learned to construct excellent

violins. He was then transferred back again to Carstairs which contained

some extremely violent inmates.  Two psychopaths managed to obtain

axes and broke out, but were confronted by the local policeman whom

they attacked. Fraser/Simpson, hearing the cries, rushed to the assistance

of the constable, but with him was also hideously done to death, his heroic

and courageous defence of morality to no avail. This incident, with its

characteristics of a classical Greek tragedy, took place some twenty years

after the trial.

      Climbing in Torridon has never seemed the same since, even after

forty years. But on my first return, only five years after these events, I was

back in the same hostel having resolved to do the round of Ben Eighe and

visit the great Corrie Mhic Fhearchair wih its triple buttresses. I had

returned and was alone in the hostel when a walker arrived out of the dark.

He was about my own age and not very communicative.  I was extremely

disturbed and must have seemed very strange, I later realised. On being

interrogated, I can put it no less, he claimed to be an RAF officer who had

been doing a long walking trip and was heading for Kyle where he would

meet friends.  He planned to walk over the Coulin pass and, at

Achnashellach, get the train to Kyle. All this was innocuous as it could

be; I had done a similar trip myself, but I was deeply suspicious. I had

a bad and vigilant night but in the morning , which eventually came

without incident, we both caught the local bus, to my astonishment,

the chap got off the bus at the Coulin Pass road end.

   Funny the people you meet in the hills.  I still speculate about the girl

who fell from the 'Horns'.

 

By Douglas Williamson.

 

Graham and I had recently climbed  The Horns of Alligin, a few months before I learned of this story.

So here are a few pictures  from Torridon.

 

The horns of Alligin

 

Beinn Alligin

Loch Coire Mhic Fhearchair Beinn Eighe.


Sail Mhor and the Triple Buttress Graham's photo.

Liathach ridge path -  it is as bad as it looks.
The scariest path I have ever walked on.
This one made me nervous.

Liathach in cotton wool cloud.



 

The Five Sisters Of Kintail

Up at 4am- I must be nuts, but the weather report was for sun, sun and more sun - looks like it could be a hard day.
So heading off to climb the 5 sisters went to pick Graham up as planned at 5 a.m.. A few texts from Graham the night before about the early departure and ok if I must was the sum of it, when the 5am bit was announced. collected Graham and headed to Inverness up the A96 about 1hour 40min ish at this time of the day. Into Tesco as usual for the conveniences but it was before 7am on a Sunday and the café was still shut. They were milling about behind the counter in prep for it opening but not sure what time that would be. Nothing for it but to get diesel and head down Loch Ness and turn right at Invermorison.  Heading out west the fog came down on the road so had to take it easy. I had hatched a cunning plan the night before about breakfast and we had taken the camp stoves.  We pulled in at Clunnie Dam in the big lay-by still with the fog down, a few bikers and some others had been wild camping at the far end of the lay-by. There were a few midge about but not too bad. The bikers had their midge nets on, must have been tastier than us. A coating of Smidge and that stopped them.
  Into the boot and got the stoves out the essential supplies were stored in the cool box - bacon and buns. Graham got his stove going and popped the kettle on to it.  I got the frying pan out and got the bacon going on my stove. It may be small but it chucks out a load of heat. So I'm frying up the bacon with the stove on a wee bit of a slope on a tarred lay-by and yep the damn frying pan took off, the bacon landed on the tar half cooked and I tried to grab it only to burn my finger on the metal of the stove. "Ouch" Anyway rescued the frying pan and scrapped the bits of road off the bacon and back in to the pan and I held onto it this time. Graham took over as I sorted out the rolls. When the bacon was done took the pan off the stove which was still burning and sat it down. Now just about this time the kettle started boiling and Graham went to turn it off, unfortunately he put the back of his hand over my little stove to do this not realising it was still on. Who needs waxing made a good job of removing the hair from the back of his arm. So with matching burns we tucked into Tesco's finest bacon in a roll with a cup of tea for me and supper strong coffee for Graham - just the way he likes it.
Damn fine. We did not think we would have got bacon of this quality at the Tesco café and certainly not with bits of tar on it! Emptied the water out from the flask into the kettle to re-boil, I had boiled the water before we left to save time. Refilled the old flask with boiling water from the kettle as at this point as we were not that far from the start of the walk.
   A stop at The Cluanie Inn for the loos and the sun was shining. Then a first for me the zip off legs were removed from my trousers. Got the boots and suntan lotion on and of course the smidge anti midge repellent. Graham came back and we headed off west. Now the start of the walk is where Brian and I came down from the Brothers, so I knew it was on a corner. But that was 2 years before and with the trees cut down made it fun to find. a bit of to-ing and frowing and we pulled into the little car park at 00923 135522. Graham switched on the GPS and the start was 20m away. Looked different from last time and damn steep.
   

Graham at the start of the walk. The path up or down is just past a big rock about the third cheveron to the left of Graham.  It was now around 9am and getting hotter by the minute.
  Graham led the way following the GPS for a start till we got onto the path, the start of the walk is around 127m above sea level.The only way is up and a damn steep up it is too, good thing you gain height quickly.
The path cut over to the east behind what's left of the trees before climbing up steeply again, there are a few cairns dotted about.  Graham or Mr Fit led the way with Captain Slow coming along behind.
By 9.50 we were at 164m just up from the trees in picture below and it was getting hotter by the minute.

Graham's photo - Glen Sheil gaining height.
 

Graham on the way up step path to the bealach.

 The South Glen Sheil ridge and 7 Munros
 

As the heat intensified it was a good idea to stay hydrated. Big problem is how much water to take 1 litre = 1 KG. I had plumped for 3ltr and a flask of tea. Prompted Graham to drink on the way up
to the bealach.
Graham reached Bealach an Lapain first about 5min before I got there. Then it was time for a bite to eat and a cupper.
 Me just reaching the bealach. Graham's photo
.

The cairn where the path is Belach an Lapin.  Graham's photo.

  Well it was hot now, prob over 30deg in the sun. Had a surprise from Graham, when we started I put a 2ltr of frozen water in my pack so it had started to melt by now, a nice ice cold drink of water to cool us down. We both kept our hats on to help prevent sun stroke. From Belach an Lapain  we could see some of the hills we would have to go up off to the west, but our first challenge was the Spaniard or Sgurr nan Spainteach. Well Graham had been eating a banana or rocket fuel as I found out, he took off up the  hill like a Whippet, with me just plodding on. The Spaniard has a surprise for you as you get to the top of the first climb you see the real top in the distance.



As I came over the first top I could see Graham on the second top already. Nothing for it but to plod on. Reaching the second top 10min later and stopped for a bit. Graham had had the same reaction as I did as he rounded the first to only to see the top in the distance.
 

Graham tackles a rocky out crop on the way along the ridge.
 

Caught up with Graham on top of Sgurr nan Spainteach. Took me a bit longer to get there than Graham with his banana power. After a short break at the summit we set off towards our first Munro - Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe. there was a wee bit of a scramble down from the summit. Graham leading the way with me following. Just around where Graham is in the photo below he decided to throw his walking poles down to the ridge ahead, I thing there was a arggggggggggg as the poles took off down the side heading for a huge drop and then a sigh relief when they came to a stop on the rocks. I took a slightly  different route down to the left of the photo.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/chimpaction/9345916054/in/set-72157634749929141/
Follow this link to Graham,s photo of me on the ridge.

Looking back at the scramble we just came down.

Me climbing down from the Spaniard.
 

Graham's photo
 

 Graham and I set off along the ridge heading for Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe our first Munro of the day. You drop down to 927m on the ridge and then 100m back up to the summit of  Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe about 750m from the summit of the Spaniard.

Graham's photo looking back along the ridge to the east.

 
The little black dot on the top is Graham.
The three Munros Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe ,Sgurr na Carnach and Sgurr Fhuaran a long way off.
 Not too bad a climb up to Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe  but it was very hot now 30 deg + and no shade.
Graham got to the top first - that's unusual - not! with me arriving a wee while later.






Graham on Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe - king of the cairn.

 On top of Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe - a rare sight of me in shorts .1027m

Boy was it hot now. So I hatched a cunning plan to get some shade while we had a cupper. Stuck my walking poles through the sleeves of my jacket and propped it up behind me, go me out of the sun for a while.
After a wee break and the usual photos Graham and I set off west and right a bit for Sgurr nan Carnach our second Munro of the day. I spied a short cut to cut out a bit on the north face just off the summit of Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe and we got in a bit of shade behind the rocks for a short while.

 

Rocky path ahead.

 

Graham taking 5 before the climb up to Sgurr nan Carnach  ahead.



Looking back at the descent and the short cut to the left of the first hill.




The only way is up, Graham takes the lead up Sgurr nan Carnach but it didn't not take too long to get to the top even with a good bit of stop/start on the way up for me.



Made it - on top of Munro 2 Sgurr na Carnach

Graham on Sgurr na Carnach with Munro 3 in the back ground - Sgurr Fhuaran.
Pity about the big drop in the middle.



So we're a bit puggled by this time with the heat and the climb, I had hit a wall so to speak so we had a good break here.
While we were on a break this guy comes along the ridge looking super fit and we start chatting as you do. He had left his car at the west end of Glen Lichd and ran the glen and bounded up the north face to Blaclach an Lapin and more or less ran the ridge. Wearing what looked like rough ground trainers. After our chat he took off down the mounting like a goat on steroids and hit the bealach before we could blink. Don't you hate people that fit??? LOL
 

A fun descent off of Sgurr na Carnach. This is the bit just down from the top.
Graham leading on the ridge path. By the time we got here the fit bloke was on top of Sgurr na Fhuaran and that's the last time we saw him. Graham and I plodded on for Munro 3
Well I plodded Graham had slowed a bit by this time but not that much though.




Graham on the path to Sgurr na Fhuaran.

It took me a while to get up here with the old quick, quick, slow and stop a minute.



Not far to the Munro No 3, just up there.

Woo Hoo Munro No3 and it's all down hill from here - well almost.
 

Me on the summit of Sgurr na Fhuaran.

Graham on the Summit of Sgurr na Fhuaran.



We came off the summit and tried to find a bit of shade down a bit. By this time I was finding it hard to eat but to get energy you have to eat. So I nibbled away at a biscuit or two.
The frozen water had thawed out by this time, pity that would have been nice.
Graham sitting thinking about a pint in the photo below.



Well do you see the hill on the far right that's the fifth sister and no way were we going to get up it
but it's not a Munro anyway, though some climbers bag it on the way past.Had the last of my tea here but it wasn't that warm now.
You will see the blue loch in the distance and that's where the car would be, only about 8km down to there. Hmmmm. Well at least it was down.



The way down.
For a change I was in the lead for a while down here as Graham was heading for the proverbial wall soon, with the heat and the climb taking it's toll. We went down between the two far off hills you see into Coire na Criche and soft wet ground for a change, a bit of a relief on the now burst blisters.



Look grass and water.  Not much of a path down here.
That loch still looking far away. As we got further down a burn ran under the ground with big holes every now and again, Graham hit that wall and fell in a few of the holes.
We made our way down to the Allt a Chruinn  (burn)  coming down Beinn Bhudie.
The last bit down to the river was quite slippy on the grass. Reaching the burn I took off my boots and stuck my feet into the water expecting it to be cold. Graham drenched himself sitting on a rock in the middle of the burn.
 After a good break I got the boots on again and headed after Graham who had got into go home mode and was off again. A proper man made path greeted us as we climbed a short distance up from the burn on the north side.

Graham got his second wind and took off down the track.



There is a steeper bit to go down just along a bit from where Graham is in the photo.
But it's all down from here and I started getting texts around here - the usual none for ages and then heaps come at once.
The last bit down to the road with still a good bit to go, no sign of Graham in the distance.



Well tired now it was put one foot in front of the other on automatic plod.
 When I got down a bit I saw the car pulling in off the main road but it would take me another 20 min or so to get there. Stiff, sore and knackered I arrived at the houses on to a lockblock road, that was hard on the tired feet. Down through the village and I could smell cooking coming from the pub, I was hungry but would not have been able to eat at this point. My mouth was very dry and I found it difficult to drink also on the last bit down the path. A trick I do is it take a mouth full of water in and keep it in my mouth for as long a possible, some will go down slowly and it helps get rid of the dryness in my mouth.
Graham had been at the car a good while but was looking just as knackered as I was. I had a surprise for him tucked in the cool box in the boot were two cold cans of coke.
That cheered him up when I produced them, I had to sip mine as I was finding it hard to drink at that time.  Boots off and a change of clothes then we headed for the Clunie Inn, Glen Sheil for a meal.
According to Graham's track log we finished the walk at 19.40 so it was a long walk.
Into the pub - Guinness here we come. A wee bit of a struggle to drink a pint but I forced it down !
Food ordered a couple of their burgers which were damn fine.
Then only a 3-4 hour drive home - lol.
I asked Graham if he would like to drive to Inverness and he jumped at the chance, good I could sleep a bit on the way, nodded off a few times on the way to Inverness. Stopped at Tesco again for the loos and some drinks,  I drove the rest of the way running out of brain power somewhere between Huntly and Alford with the fog on the top of the Suie making it even worse. 
 Got to Alford and turned onto Graham's road only to keep going right into a dead end. I think past it would be a good definition about now. Sorted it out and took Graham home think he was glad to get out of the car by this time as he's not the best at being a passenger.
Home 10 minutes later done in completely, don't think I will walk the sisters again but you never know. Can't remember what time we got home 1 pm maybe?  It was a long hot day in Kintail.
Track log from Graham's GPS 14.5km and 9.45hours

The End :-)