Peuth Inspector Clouseau Closes the Case

We at the Surete (Access Division) never give up until the last kilometre of peuth has been walked and the last stile shaken. Like a poodle with a bin, we are !

So as yesterday promised to be what passes for a reasonable day, I set off to complete the inspection I had started on Saturday. Now this little mini-network involves a bit of doubling back and overlapping, but still could easily be completed by a fit and active person in one session. But then, a fit and active person wouldn't be writing this blog. You can't have it both ways

The weather was that familiar struggle between the Sun King and The Rain God - hazy sun trying to burst through the cloud and halfhearted spitting of rain

On Saturday I had louped this stile and headed off down the glen for the bus home. Today it was onward and upward.

The first of the 478 frustrating false summits (I've counted them !) if you choose to ascend Dumyat from this side.

Interesting question - when does a cross-drain become a ford ?

This little spot just seemed to have "Reserved for OM's Arse" written on it. "Table for one,sir? certainly. Are you having the set menu? Can I recommend the banana with hardly any black bits, followed by the cheap Tesco coffee from the flask ?  Enjoy" The Rain God was beginning to prevail, so I didn't tarry, and moved on , leaving a generous tip (Don't eat yellow snow)

Those of you who are reading this without moving your lips might be thinking "That's not a path - that's a track" Correct. However it is part of the Core Path Network As the Bee Gees said "It's only words"

We're at over 1000 ft here, and it's raining fairly steadily

Here's an "issue". If that lett was just lowered a bit the puddle would drain away.

This junction marks the end of my jurisdiction. I had planned on retracing my steps, however there was a longer option to carry on up Glen Loss to the Sheriffmuir Road and home that way. It had stopped raining, I felt surprisingly fit, and, with the weight of  official responsibility lifted from my shoulders (must get some of that titanium responsibility) I carried on up the glen.

I don't know who is responsible for this path, but judging by the straightness, it's probably Via Inspector Morse.

Colsnaur. It holds the snow early and late.

When I was up her last year they were in the middle of harvesting this little bit of woodland. Now it's just a corpse of clear- fell with only the buzzard poles remaining.


And so back home by way of the reservoir. No sign of the swans. Does anyone know what has happened to Danny who used to blog about cups and rings and a whole lot of other interesting stuff ?

About 7 miles and 1100 ft. Perhaps, just perhaps, we might be starting to get somewhere again