It was a clear sky weekend, crisp sunny days and cold icy nights.  Saturday involved pottering about the town sipping coffee and reading book/papers.  And I am sorry to say this; I bought another jacket.  Calm down sister, I know you think I have a ridiculous amount of jackets.  This one is a lovely softshell:

I just had to test it out on the hills and was fortunate enough to be heading straight for them once I finished my americanos.

Saturday evening found me arriving to an old cottage full of tired and weary teenagers who had all been climbing from early morning.  They had left just enough spaghetti bolognese for me to appreciate a plate of it.  I must admit that a day of shopping made it feel guilty and undeserved.

That night was spent sleeping on a concrete fire in front of a fire that was the only source of heat on a winter cold night.  This might seem like unnecessary discomfort to many. I loved it.

The cold night moved into early morning, which then moved into porridge and coffee, which then moved into the movement of the approach to the crag.

Some of the group were climbed-out from the previous day and, instead of climbing, wanted to stretch the legs and bag some mountains.  So, after first investigating cove cave we headed up to the dizzy peaks.  The climbers we left behind got lost in the warming sun and the cold high friction granite.

The day was a mini epic, if such a thing exists.  The group were used to the hills from doing their Duke of Edinburgh Award.  They were used to walking in the mountains, through gentle valleys and muddy bogs.  However, they were not used to walking over the mountains, up steep rocks and hard snow dusted ground.  They loved it!