It was another wet afternoon and evening. Out of nine days' walking, we had been in rain for six of them.
After turning away from the fleshpots of Braemar, we headed up Glen Lui to a slightly damp camping spot near Clais Fhearnaig. We met Judith, who was slightly puzzled by our direction of travel, and in front of whom 'Poor Michael' did his 'jelly' impression (see above).
I realised the need to stop as soon as possible, and we were able to set up camp just a few metres up the glen at NO 057 923.