Tuesday 7th August

It was time for Peter and dad to set off on another adventure. It had been the wettest summer on record but we hoped for a change in the weather and early morning saw us setting off with big rucksacks, bound for the Scottish Highlands. We took the train to Euston and then boarded a Pendolino which would take us to Glasgow. Having settled in, it was time to resume our card competition. At the end of our trip to the Lake District, a year before, the score had stood at Peter 108 wins - Dad 101 wins. Now, as the train sped northwards, the two rivals battled it out (between cooked breakfast and cups of tea and cola). Dad kept narrowing the gap, and Peter kept widening it again. Outside, the weather was brightening up with blue patches of sky and sunlight spilling out over the English countryside.

The train passed Lancaster (where Hannah was staying) and then the Lake District. After Carlisle, we crossed the border and arrived in Glasgow in early afternoon. We visited plenty of shops - notably a couple of interesting gadget shops - and then sat in the front window of a coffee shop looking onto Sauchiehall Street, drinking milkshakes with cream on the top, which seemed to attract queues of customers from outside on the street. Meanwhile we played variations on the game: spot the worst pair of shoes, spot the weirdest beard, spot who is carrying the most shopping bags.

Then we caught the train from Glasgow that headed north in beautiful evening sunshine that shimmered on the sea. We travelled to Arrochar (where dad pointed out the mountain called The Cobbler), then up Loch Lomond (with Ben Lomond above it) until we got to Ardlui. Here passengers were able to get out and have a stroll for 15 minutes as the 'down train' was running late. Then on to Crianlarich where the train split in two: much relief that we were on the right half of the train as it carried on its journey northwards.

Peter spotted some highland cows and deer. From Bridge of Orchy the mountains got wilder, and then we cut across the fringes of Rannoch Moor in the fading light, its vast expanse looking wet underfoot and, at last, we got off at Rannoch Station and walked over to the Moor of Rannoch Hotel where we were staying. We had hot chocolate and tea, played a few more rounds of cards (Peter extended his lead to 141-132) and we prepared for our challenge the following day: to cross the largest, boggiest marsh in Britain and reach Glencoe. Then the mountaineering could begin.