The author, looking down in the dumps. Note footwear, stealthy garb and pre-Carbonlite Leki's.
It sums up, for me, everything that's wrong with "bagging" Munros for the sake of a tick on a list. Firstly, it's a dull hill. There's nothing remarkable about it* but I'd set off to climb it as it was one of the last two Glenshee Munros that I hadn't done.
Outside of Winter, when a good dump of snow can hide a multitude of sins, the Glenshee Ski Centre is a mess. It's horrible. To get there, I'd taken a day off work, driven for nearly 2 hours and passed many other fine wee hills on the way. There were other people about but they were, with but one exception, to a man and woman, Ignorant Bastards. My cheery "Hiya's" brought forth scowls and, happily, a fair bit of shame-faced discomfiture. There were red lugs aplenty.
I've always maintained that you meet nicer folk on Corbetts and indeed any hill that disnae appear in the Reverend's Tables and this day proved it. In fact, it was nearly 2 years before I set foot on another Munro and in that time I had many a cheery encounter with folk who's opening gambit wisnae "How many's that then?".
*Except of course for the Mountain Hares which are huge and numerous. Oh awright, and the views. Sometimes.