Every year around this time, the outdoor bug gets hold of my kids and they start dropping hints: “Dad, it’s going to be 5 degrees on Saturday—please can we go camping?” Thus last weekend the shed was prised open and miscellaneous dusty camping paraphernalia stuffed into our elderly Volvo until its springs groaned. Despite my wife’s trepidation, the sun actually shone and we had a fantastic weekend, the highlight of which was bribing the kids to climb their first Munro, the gnarly rock summit of Càrn Aosda that overlooks the Glen Shee pass.
My six-year-old son’s reaction on arriving at the top was priceless. As the cries of “Wait for me!” and “Parents shouldn’t be allowed to make their kids climb mountains” died away he stood, open-mouthed, gazing at the incredible view down Glen Clunie, with the snow-capped Cairngorms glittering in the distance. “Dad! That’s amazing!” my son cried out. “Look at the view!” And then he flopped to the ground and just stared for a few minutes. It’s one of the few times I’ve ever known him silent.