In reply to Fenda:
It was a lovely day in September 1995. Me and my good mate Whisky Dave , decided to bypass the Lakes for pastures new.
Up the M6 we went in my Volvo 340, with a plan of trying out the Moffat Hills.
We parked below the? Grey Mares Tail waterfall and hatched a plan of camping by Loch Skeen.
We had a lovely walk up past the waterfall and into some quite wild territory for people accustomed to the Lake District.
Full of banter and wonderment of our new surroundings, we pitched the yellow quasar tent at the head of the loch. We cooked tea and had a few slurps of our stash.
On hearing a Peregrine, and getting sick of Whisky’s repetitive, inane drivel, I decided to climb up further as the sun set to try and see the Peregrine, which I did.
Looking down, some 200 feet below, I saw Whisky emerge from the quasar and have a leak, trousers down and waving.
Then, he seemed agitated and dived into the tent shouting. I descended at speed and heard a blood curdling scream.
As I approached the Quasar and let myself in, I was confronted by Whisky writhing and moaning and shouting shut the door!
As I stopped moving I became aware of clouds of midges moving in for the kill.
I shut the door and Whisky began spraying Sure deodorant on any infiltrators.
It turned out that the scream was him, having sprayed his midge bitten rim
Dont camp there in still weather in summer or feel that there is any respite in the Scottish Borders, For Sure!