Cairngorm Mountain

I felt a part of my soul die here in Pitlochry, so I took a picture of the grave.

Placed a stone that I had found on the beach at Largs (Ayrshire) and placed it on a verdant tree stump, then sprinkled some fairy dust to honour the healing I felt from the woodland; I also noticed a dragon's head formed from a fallen tree stump.

But I am OK, because I know I can pull my ancestral spirit through this haplessness void of forsaken ancestral projection. I believe our future incarnate lives brought forward into our inherent future. To be fleeced of our inherent worth as our destinies defaced from our ancestral spirit by envious, alienating replacements, from a different timeline.

Wasted no time in walking out of Pitlochry, the place is crazy with circus antics, a man working by the loch attempted to turn me back, but I claimed the right to roam. He replied it was not applicable to commercial land, but I walked on anyway. Walked up the A9 until I came to a parking lay by and hitched a lift from a father and son travelling up to Inverness for a building job. They dropped me in Tesco's car park. I got provisions from the supermarket and began my walk to the Ski centre. I got a lift from a young man in a pickup on his way to Costa del Morlich. Furthermore, I went to see the Sami reindeer museum because I feel at home with the Sami people. Here I learned all the reindeer had died, the atmosphere was sullen. Stopped at a bar by the camp site after being told the management was comically coherent, only to discover a pushy bar man touting tired customers to drink more. Disgusted, I left, walked another mile and thumbed another lift to the ski centre.

Visited the café for a cup of tea before setting off on my journey to the summit of Ben MacDui (Scotland’s second-highest mountain).

I saw a few people descend, but nobody followed me up into these mountains (not even the infamous grey man!); it was quite late in the afternoon, so I assumed this to be the reason.

A, grey haired tall man in his mid-fifties walking a brown and white collie dog stopped to talk to me, he rubbed my ego a little too much which heightened by suspicions rather than provoked conversation. He said my backpack appeared heavy, then when he felt the weight seemed shocked, stating it must weigh at least 17lbs.

On the ascent I swear I saw and said hi to Doctor Who actors (but no politically correct Dr Who that has recently been wrongfully claiming to be Scottish on Television) who were walking past me, then to confirm this I seen a TV camera man descending behind them, weird. The snow seemed a bit of a novelty as it is summer, thus the reason why I enjoyed walking over it.

At the summit I was joined by three or four birds who were very friendly. The views were clearer than the first time I visited this summit, but the camera on my old phone, an iPhone 7+ took much better photographs (five years ago) than what my Vollaphone does today.

Interesting and questioning to see that Scotland's second highest mountain, Ben MacDui summit information stone was made in the multicultural ghetto of Lambeth, South London.

In the distance there was a man dressed all in black roaming around the western footpath; to his east I spotted five people camped by the lake. These five men from London explained the man in black was their friend who they claimed "was going through a midlife crisis"; joking I asked if he had a box of "Milk Tray" chocolates, the oldest member of the group got the joke.

I decided to go check Hutchinson's Memorial Bothy out.

Nearing the bothy, I could see it was occupied, by two Germans (male and female) sleeping inside and two Scotsmen sleeping outside in tents; all four walkers were friendly. On arriving I found them using the burn by the bothy, so warned them of about how the shit pits ran into it, advising them to use the main burn 50 yards away.

The two Germans were accommodating and let us use the bothy until they wished to go to sleep. I cooked some soup and drank coffee whilst the two Scotsmen, from Glasgow, shared a pan full of rice and beef to themselves. Another lady arrived and pitched her tent later on, but said nothing, just smiled as if she were a subordinated victim of a Christian happy clap cult.

We spent the evening drinking wine, I gave the two Scotsman a Tarot reading. The Germans, although were civil, were not that associative, choosing to remain mostly outside until re-entering the bothy and demanding to use the space to go to bed. The Scotsmen departed saying “We've been told”. On the way out, the Scotsmen mocked the stone sculpture outside as Roland Rat; amused, I smirked to myself as I entered into my tent.