The last three Munros of 2015 (16)

Alas! There was no bridge over the river, and my choices were either to follow the river down to the bridge, or to attempt to ford it. I opted for the latter. I found a nice little place where there was a sandy shore on either side, and the river widened somewhat and ought, therefore, to be a bit shallower. This would be my crossing place! So I took off my boots, socks and trousers, put on my sandals, unfastened all my rucksack straps and slowly waded into the stream.

The bottom was sandy, but sloped quite steeply, and the water was soon above my knees. On I went, the stream getting deeper ... and deeper ... and deeper. It was practically to the top of my thighs, but I was more than half way. It would start getting shallower soon, I was sure. But no! It just kept getting deeper and deeper, and before I knew it I had wet underwear!

And then, ad last, the treacherous little stream started to get shallower again, and before long I was putting my trousers back on at the far bank. I took this photograph looking back at my crossing place ...