Not-so-Fantastic Mr. Fox

Determined to spend a night near water without getting wet, Merlin strung his hammock over a piece of lake. Alex decided this looked like a good idea and followed suit.

As the temperature increased so strangely did the level of the reservoir. High thirties left us confined to climbing early mornings and late evenings. So we missed the shops (bloody Spanish siesta) and quickly ran out of food.

One night, much to his disappointment, Alex was not woken by a wet bum but rather by the sound of rustling near our bags. We looked on in horror as a thieving fox ran off with the last of our food. Throwing rocks didn’t deter the beast who inquisitively smelled them. Pesky fox!

Ravenous but eager to climb in the cool of the morning, we set off for the red, conglomerate rock faces of Collegats. It wasn’t long before our whimpering on the rock was noticed and a herd of vultures (still not sure on the terminology; keenly awaiting your response grandma!) began taking an interest. However, after a few close swoops, they must have decided our emaciated bodies weren’t worth hanging around for.