Ron’s Version of the Truth
The E2E+3P trip is basically a pub bet gone wrong. During rehydration therapy after hill walks Fraser likes to casually mention to any hapless bystander how far/high we have just walked. My role as sidekick is to say "That's nothing, tomorrow we are going twice as far/high in half the time". Neil's role is to look aghast, thinking there must surely be other ways of enjoying exercise and fresh air.
The Munros, the 4,000 footers in under 24 hours, Neil's fear factor calibration of Forcan Ridge, Fisherfield Forest in one day and on one leg, and various benign days turned in to epics by gratuitous boat rides, accidental ice gulley ascents and alarmingly rapid descents all set the scene for another totally unnecessary epic boys' trip.
"E2E?" I muttered into a pint hoping not to be taken seriously.
"E2E+3P" Fraser announced.
"Oh F**K" said Neil, "I’ll have to do this too."
I've got a bike. I don't know why I call him Gerald. White in colour, lots of gears.
Any dosh raised by me goes to Zingwangwa Clinic, my workplace 'twin clinic' in Malawi.
The Munros, the 4,000 footers in under 24 hours, Neil's fear factor calibration of Forcan Ridge, Fisherfield Forest in one day and on one leg, and various benign days turned in to epics by gratuitous boat rides, accidental ice gulley ascents and alarmingly rapid descents all set the scene for another totally unnecessary epic boys' trip.
"E2E?" I muttered into a pint hoping not to be taken seriously.
"E2E+3P" Fraser announced.
"Oh F**K" said Neil, "I’ll have to do this too."
I've got a bike. I don't know why I call him Gerald. White in colour, lots of gears.
Any dosh raised by me goes to Zingwangwa Clinic, my workplace 'twin clinic' in Malawi.
