Scotland, you cruel mistress!
You lured me from the warmth of my southern abode,
With false promises of adventure and cold wilderness,
But still, I find myself asleep in a mountain car park,
Living a Spartan weekend existence,
In anticipation of an epic that I am yet to start,
will you reward my persistence?
Your fickle temperament endures unrivalled,
to that of any bitter vixen,
Why torture the far travelled?
Most only come for logbook experience.
