Tuesday 24 October 2006--I have but one thing in mind for today, and that's a walk up the Goat Fell, Arran's highest peak at
874 meters (2867 feet). It's raining when I awaken, though, and I abandon the idea before I'm out of bed. Not sure what to
do with the day, I drive down to Brodick and stroll around town. It's not a very charming place, reminding me a bit of
Aviemore, although it does have a beach.
The rain has stopped, and the sky looks as though it might clear. I look up at the Goat Fell, and the peak is
wreathed in cloud. I dither for a few minutes, and decide to go up after all. I'm here, so why not? The cloud seems as
though it will blow off.
So off I go. It's an easy enough mountain for eight-year-olds, and indeed I see several kids around that age, in the
company of Mom and Dad, bounding along effortlessly. It's a suitable challenge for an old geezer like me. The first
stretch of trail out of Brodick is virtually a highway, but soon it narrows and ascends out of the scruffy forest, and a
beautiful view over Brodick can be had. Before too long, though, I am in the cloud, which never does blow off. I make the
summit--there is no view at all--in two and a half hours, and have it to myself.
Coming down is a little trickier, and I am saved from making a wrong turn by my hand-held GPS. I'm down in two
hours. I will have to come back for a longer stay sometime, so that I will have half a chance for a clear summit.
I nap and shower at the B&B, and then resume my Arran survey at the Lochranza Hotel. This evening the finishes are
Premier Cru Sauternes and Montepulciano d'Abruzzo "Villa Gemma". I chat with the landlord, who gives me a taste of a
sherry-matured Arran bottled especially for the hotel. It has that same burnt popcorn note I tasted in the Pulteney at
the Bow Bar, and is the first unpleasant Arran I've had. I don't tell him.
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