Sunday, 21 July 2013

Goat Fell Adventure

Doug, the DM from the Battletech campaign, had a real life adventure earlier today climbing Goat Fell on the Isle of Arran in temperatures of 33 degrees Celsius. Yes, Scotland is hotter than Kolkutta India today. Here is the tale of his adventures, as posted on facebook and in his own words:

Goat Fell
Climbed Goat Fell on the isle of Arran today - walked about 9 miles in a blazing sunshine, 7 of which were up a very steep hill. It was an interesting little adventure so I decided to keep a journal of the events:

Hour #1 - have arrived on the island after a hearty breakfast of bacon rolls and coffee. Walking along the Fisherman's Path to Castle Brodick and spirits are high. No sign of any fishermen. Slightly disappointed.

Hour #2 - Walking through some coniferous woods up from the coast. Passed a lurid pink bistro, a beauty salon and a boutique on the path. Vaguely wondering what sort of fishermen are around here anyway. Reached the mountain path and the sun is beating down now. Fending off horseflies so large, I feel like King Kong being assaulted by bi-planes.

Hour #3 - SO HOT. Have lost a third of my body weight to water loss and only survived by sucking moisture from my own beard like some sort of hirsute Fremen stillsuit. Still, the broken ground means I am walking without rhythm, so no wormsign. WHY IS THIS MOUNTAIN COVERED IN BOULDERS? You have to clamber over an obstacle course just to travel about six feet. The peak is in sight.

Hour #3 continued - NEARLY DIED - lost m balance on top of a giant boulder and only survived by windmilling my arms with the walking sticks so I fell forward to safety rather than plummeted like some sort of chubby, bearded lemming to my death.

Hour #3 continued again - AT THE TRIG POINT - I did it. How the hell did I manage that? Clearly this beer gut is some sort of camel hump because it is a SUN DRENCHED INFERNO UP HERE and I haven't died of dehydration. That rock looks very comfortable. I SLEEP NOW.

Hour #4 - Tottering down from the summit like some sort of decrepit mountain goat on crutches. Still roasting to death. I think I see a valkyrie come to take me to valhalla. Or it might be a seagull.

Hour #5 - it was a Seagull. :( Still trapped on this blazing mountain side of doom. Mordor is a freaking picnic next to this. Tried yelling 'the eagles ar coming!' but to no avail. Deeply disappointed in Gandalf.

Hour #6 - Am in a pub, with a pint of Arran Ale and STILL ALIVE. Cannot believe this. Clearly I am immortal. Or a solar powered kryptonian. Or something. My feet bloody hurt.

ADDENDUM - I'm on the beach and paddling with an ice cream yay

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