Ford's Road

Cigs is a little thin on the ground in West Stirlingshire where I spent much of the day. And equally as thin on the ground in the Magdalene area where I had to collect climbing chum Baz (from his airing cupboard)

So after a 10 mile, 3000 odd foot trek around Beinn Tulichean and Cruach Ardain, we're heading back in town, all endorphins and sunburn when I remember I need Cigs; I hauled the brakes on and I stepped out to blip. She stepped out too into the gathering cool of a spring evening and shivered before saying 'it's one thing to drag me up treacherous mountains, but do I have stand here and look at some third rate tagger's nonsense?'

Black paint on stone wall; outline only, dated 2014. Unhappy face.

I know the feeling...

Ford's Road for Ford's birthday.