Another night of checking Alex at irregular intervals; which all set me up nicely for 2 hours overtime and then a 2 hour online meeting with the diabetes folks plus the other families also getting insulin pumps. A tough morning under normal circumstances; but on reduced sleep? Oooft...!

Still, there was daylight at the end of the tunnel. Meeting over, I deposited Alex back into the care of his mother, hasitly packed a rucksack and sped off to the station. Awaiting me was the 1333 for Inverness. I gratefully slumped into my seat and promptly started talking to the bloke next to me. And I thought my adventure was nuts..! I gave him the contents of my wallet and wished him well before succumbing to the inevitable sleep. 

By Inverness I was suitably restored and sought sustainance before the next leg of the journey... another train bound for Kyle of Lochalsh. 

At 1955, I was the only passenger to disembark at Attadale, and conscious of wee things flying about, I set off past Attadale Gardens and into the hinterland, bound for Ben Dronaig bothy. A mere 8 miles up a fairly decent track; but with a hefty 400 metres climb before a mixture of quite frankly mental descents with hideously loose corners and some more absolute bastard ascents. Eventually I crested the highest point and from there on in it was mostly a wind assisted charge to the bothy. Which was locked.... bugger...!
I had a quick look about and figured my best bet was a small lean to on the leeward side of the lodge; there was a roof and one side sheltering me from the wind - probably where they hang the deer up to gralloch them... ach in the half light it looked fine. I ate dinner (pasta salad) and got the sleeping bag inside the bivvy bag and settled down for the night....  Base camp had been established!