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#loch torridon
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Great Britain: Winchester, Brighton, Allerford, Loch Torridon, Bath, Wells, Orford, East Meon,
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vintagecamping · 1 year
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A couple of young gents stand proudly on the Highland's finest mountain, Liathach.
Glen Torridon, Scotland
1980
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kvetch19 · 7 months
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scotianostra · 10 months
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Good Morning from Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿
Sunrise over Loch Coire Mhic Fhearchair, Torridon
📸5cott_mc/ Scott McPartlin Esq. MBE on Instagram.
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Bereavement (Simon "Ghost" Riley)
[MY MASTERLIST]
Rating: M Words: 800-ish words CW: SPOILERS FOR MW3, grief, mentions of death, stealing from the dead Tags: SPOILERS FOR MW3, Ghostxf!OC (but not in this part), Soap MacTavish's family (mentioned), grief, mentions of death, stealing from the dead Summary: Ghost is going to visit Soap's resting place. He has a lot of feelings. a/n: This is part of my fic, but I had so many feelings while writing this that I wanted to share it as a 'standalone'-ish. Also it made me cry. Also I write a lot of angsty grief.
December 20th, 2023.
Loch Torridon, Scotland
57°35'57.3"N 5°43'39.4"W
2348Hours, T-Minus 12 minutes until midnight
Ghost wasn’t a bereaved man. 
He had buried his family and plenty of teammates before. He knew grief, and how to move on; there was no need to dwell on it, relive it, reminisce about it…
But minutes before the one-month anniversary, he, nonetheless, found himself trekking over the uneven terrain toward the cliffs.
If you asked him why he was doing this, he wouldn’t provide an answer. He didn’t have one. He had just gotten in his car and started driving… and eight hours later, here he was.
With only a flashlight to guide him (thanks to his preparedness of always keeping a toolbox in the boot), he moved under cover of night toward the place where they had laid Soap to rest.
Ghost wasn’t a spiritual man.
But something about Soap’s spirit not being honored on the one-month anniversary of his death felt wrong.
Or maybe it was just that Simon didn’t want to be alone in his quarters.
And so he walked.
And walked.
And walked.
The place they had picked for the release of the ashes was one that Johnny’s 3rd older sister had mentioned that he always liked to go to. A couple of klicks south of a bothy, aka a rain shelter for travelers, there was a set of rocks at the edge of a cliff, where Johnny had once carved his initials: JMT, like all teenage boys do.
Pippa MacTavish had told the three men that her baby brother had taken a girl on a date there once, and had gotten his first kiss on that spot. Ghost was almost sure that the young Johnny and his crush had done more than just ‘kiss’ that night. But he kept his mouth shut. Though, on the inside, he did cheer on the youngin.
Ghost wasn’t a sentimental man.
But he had kept a set of Johnny’s dog tags for himself.
The kid might have been a bit of a wild child and a loose cannon, but he took his gear seriously. Or maybe he was just that proud of his military service. Either way, he had multiple sets of dog tags.
Besides the patch indicating his blood type on his vest, he wore a set of metal tags around his neck, kept another in a small pocket in his pack, and another in his childhood bedroom at home.
Ghost had stolen from the dead many times… both enemies and teammates alike. He never felt guilty before, because it was needed: weapons, ammo, FAKs... Sometimes those stolen pieces of gear had kept Ghost alive when a more morally sound man would’ve died.
He hadn’t been stupid enough to take the ones he was wearing on him, those were his family’s to keep. But Ghost had stuck his hand in Soap’s pack while riding on the convoy and pocketed the spares.
And keeping a set of Soap’s dog tags for himself felt wrong.
So he didn’t tell anyone.
Ghost wasn’t a friendly man.
But he had grown fond of Johnny.
Ghost tried to keep people at a distance, but Johnny had an issue with giving people their personal space, it seems. The bloody Scot had crashed through Simon’s barriers and taken his trust by force.
Soap had made his way into Simon’s cold, dead heart like he was breaking and entering… Then proceeded to say “This is nice and cosy, mind if I stay ‘ere a while?” and despite his objections, the kid had just set up shop and stayed perfectly nestled in.
Like an annoying younger brother…
And Simon couldn’t get mad at that.
Ghost kept moving over the grass, his flashlight pointing downward and a bit ahead so he didn’t trip over a rock or something.
If spirits do exist, then Johnny would surely mock him from the afterlife if he tripped on his way to the ‘memorial’.
With that thought in mind, Ghost decided to be even more careful.
Just as he was coming up the hill, however… He spotted it. The dark silhouette of a person sitting over the rocks.
Only Soap’s family and the 1-4-1 knew about this spot…
Maybe it was a family member of Johnny’s...
But he couldn’t help but feel like it was an intruder… And with Makarov still on the loose, he wasn’t taking any chances.
His right hand slowly palmed the handle of his sidearm as his left quickly turned off his flashlight. He went back to blending in with the darkness of the seaside cliffs.
Then, he slowly began to take silent tentative steps through the darkness, hoping that the cold wind would be enough to mask the sounds of his footfalls as he approached.
He was going to find out who this was.
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skinks · 1 year
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spring roadtrip up to Torridon via Cairngorm with the lads @thewintermusketeer and @benevolentbridgetroll feat. desperately trying to keep birthday candles alight in a loch wind, hand-feeding reindeer, a 9 point turn on the UK’s highest altitude road in a snowstorm traffic jam, eagle sightings, red deer sightings, 19 hours worth of driving tunes, constant mountain-view-induced-hysteria, and an intensely prolonged bit about a vampire in a hostel
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azvolrien · 19 days
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So I've just got back from a couple of days at the Torridon Hotel, which is not, I strongly emphasise, somewhere I could usually afford to stay but my mum had been given a voucher as a gift. The hotel was nice but the main attraction in the area is the stunning surroundings, with the Torridon Hills making for some of the most spectacular mountain scenery in Britain.
Particular attention is paid here to the Munros Liathach (the 'th' is silent) and Beinn Alligin, which sit directly across Loch Torridon from the hotel. Three thousand feet probably doesn't sound terribly impressive if you're from, I dunno, Colorado or Switzerland or wherever, but when you see that height soaring straight up from sea level (Loch Torridon is a sea loch), it does loom rather.
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bikepackinguk · 10 months
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Day Forty-three
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It's up and at 'em today from the end of Poolewe's stretch of bay and after this many times I'm getting pretty efficient with the morning routine, though in no mood to rush!
Off we set once more - out from Poolewe it's naturally straight into the hills again this morning, with a clamber over the top of the ridges to get over to the lovely little town of Gairloch by the waterfront.
Climbing back out past the lovely beach, and with no through roads around the coast for this area, it's time for a long climb alk the way up along the River Kerry to begin a 20-something mile detour inland.
Up and up the road climbs past rocky walls until reaching Loch Bad an Sgalaig, before descending into the Slattadale Valley.
After all the climbing this is a wonderful stretch of long gradual descent straight down along to the start of Loch Maree, with gorgeous views of the mountains lining the valley.
The weather today has been pretty reasonable so far, so I take a short diversion for a little walk up to see the very lovely Victoria Falls.
It's plebty more miles riding along the lochside, and the clouds begin to thicken with the mountains turning into grey sillouettes around me. Before long the skies begin to absolutely hammer it down.
A quick duck into the shelter at Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve finds a number of other tourists taking shekter from the heavy rain. Whilst most of them resolve to head back to their hotels, I and a motorcyclist have a chuckle, throw on our waterproofs, and get back at it!
The end if the loch is finally reached at Taagan, and the road starts heading up once more following the A' Ghairbhe river all the way up to Loch Clair. As the road continues into the valley the surrounding mountains make an amazing framing of the landscape.
The rains finally start to subside, but the winds funneling up through the valley are whistling past and even once the downhill begins it still requires a lot of pedalling to actually make any headway back down.
After a lot of work the valkey is finally exited at Upper Loch Torridon, where the route swings up into the hills above it on the south side, making for good views of the craggy mountains on the opposite side.
With a few more stiff ascents we finally get round to the very lovely little village of Shieldag, where I coast down to the waterfront to have a nice break for some dinner.
My route over the last two days has intersected with a German couple on holiday, and we've had a few nice chats and bantering as we repeatedly pass each other by. Turns out they are staying here and we share more smiles as we encounter one another yet again.
I know the Applecross Peninsula ahead is going to be a lot of hard work though, so I decide to get a bit of a start made on it whilst scouting for angood spot for the night.
Out from Shieldag, I finally turn off the A896 and head west along the very up-and-down road along the hillside above Loch Shieldag. The views across the water are stunning, and after a little more riding I spy a nice sheltered spot by some silver birches that allow me to setup the tent with a view across the water.
After all the work today, and the climbs ahead tomorrow, I think a nice lie down is in order. I might let myself have a lie in as well! West Scotland's hills continue to be merciless so best make sure the legs have a bit if time to recover.
Until the morning!
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ravens_outdoor
Just found this banger 💥from Loch an Eoin. 😂 🍑A wee opportunity to go native on a wicked hot Torridon Afternoon with JP! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿☀️☀️☀️
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trade-wind · 10 months
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Kenmore to Shieldaig, Loch Torridon
Monday 3rd July 2023
Well perhaps it was a good thing we couldn't download a proper weather forecast... It rained virtually non stop all day! No more otter sightings so we weighed anchor at 12.00 and headed a few miles further up Loch Torridon to Shieldaig where we picked up a visitor buoy near the pontoon and village. After an afternoon hunkered down listening to the rain, we went ashore late afternoon for a walk into the very pretty village. A quick stop at the village shop for Ecclefechan tarts (never heard of them but delicious!) and then to the Torridon Smokery, which is really a shed in someone's back garden! Just had to sample the local ale in the hotel and pick up a bit of wifi before heading back to Trade Wind just before the rain lashed down again!
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swimwearjournal · 11 months
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 Clair De Lune | Loch Clair - Torridon
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Great Britain: Eilean Donan Castle, Chawton, Brighton, Bath, Allerford, Lincoln, Loch Torridon, Polperro, Chipping Campden 
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stumbleimg · 1 year
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Upper Loch Torridon, NW Scottish Highlands [OC] (4023 x 2117)
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masked-life · 7 days
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 Beinn Eighe - Torridon - Loch Coulin Reflections - Autumn - Wester Ross
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scotianostra · 11 months
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Good Morning from Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿
Early morning cloud inversion "The loch torridon monster. Liathach. The greyish one, dress appropriately"
📸5cott_mc on Instagram
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carryforthtradition · 2 months
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Reflections from a Winter Line
A yellow flash followed the click of the car doors locking; we turned to the trail, the cone of our headlamps shining bright.  Heading northeast into the dark and damp we set off at pace, our minds glowed with electrical ions positively connecting excitement, doubt and wonder. Our trail, steadily rising up to the Coire Dudh Mor 390m a high valley pass between Beinn Eighe and Liathach.   We were running through the ancient landscape of the mighty Torridon, a landscape that’s as old as creation itself.
We breathed deep, our lungs filled, our hearts pumped, our legs carried us. Eyes wide open we saw in awe, the rising sun as it begins its winter arc on the horizon. Glowing ridgelines on Liathach and the Horns of Allign, the dayglow had begun. The running was benign and effortless. We ran with joy and pace, fast and flowing, the trail a perfect match for our every step. Only stopping to absorb the views; a timeless distance hundreds of millions of years in the making. Banished from our minds the foolishness of our lives, the eternal stench of the city. We left behind relative figments of our imagination as we stepped through the boundary between creation and reality.
Photographer John Proctor, Photo: Tia Gibson by Loch Coire Mhic Fearchair
We turned to the southeast, heading to Loch Coire Mhic Fhearchair situated below the iconic triple buttress of Beinn Eighe.  Mind-blowing reflections blurred our boundaries between reality and vision, eyes wide open we stood in awe. Created at the dawn of time, such wonder of a distorted, super-heated and metamorphosed mass. If the world has only one super sweet moment set aside for us, a moment of pure reflection; Torridon may forever be that place.
 Photographer John Proctor, Photo: Reflections of Triple Buttress Beinn Eighe
Engulfed in a snowstorm, we turned to the Far East wall heading up to the saddle between Ruach-stac Mor 1010m and the Beinn Eighe massive. Kicking in for the good stuff, spikes on running shoes, the deep snow numbed our toes. Axe in hand we left behind the valley views and headed for the summit, Coinneach Mhor 976m. Riding out the snowstorm as we climbed to point 956m, the swirling cloud opens as the panoramic across the whole of Torridon elates our senses. Pure white crisp snow crowns the massif mountain. We head west for the summit, the sun burning brightly, views of Liathch to the southeast, Slioch to the north.
Photographer John Proctor, Photo: Tia Gibson setting the map with Liathch in the backdrop
Views of everlasting beauty, our hearts lifted as we stood on the summit, we stopped and ate. The cheese and pickle sandwiches tasted good, we set the map and compass and headed west. Fresh steps through the pure winter cover, first a plateau then a fine mountaineering ridgeline led us to the summit of Spidean Coire nan Clach 993m. We turned to the descent at what felt like the edge of time, the sun low on its arc across the winter line. Staying focused on every step descending through the super steep crisp snow to a shoulder, 866m Stuc Coire an Laoigh.  We approached the sublime viewpoint, our descent directly below. 
 Photographer John Proctor, Photo: Tia Gibson 866m Syuc Coire an Lauigh
We stood to take in the final view, a transcendently beautiful aura all around; we had felt the winds of time.  A nip from a 15-year-old single malt whisky warmed us; it was our last day in the mountains. Yet we had to return to our lives. Fast and free, we descended once again, our lungs filled, our hearts pumped and our legs took the brunt as the joy of the run filled our minds. 
Article written by John Proctor: Mountain Climbing Instructor; Author of ‘Mapping the Mind; the art of skyrunning UK’. Instagram  big_friend_academy, Email: [email protected]
Runner Tia Gibson: Physical training coach & Skyrunner.  Instagram  tiatilly
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