Chapter EightDawn flushed the eastern sky with diffused pink light, silhouetting the tumbled hills of west Sutherland and Ross in a glorious panorama of peaks. As we watched, the last of the morning mists were rising from the tops to dissipate in the keen air.
'Once we've done An Cailleach,' Charlie said, 'I think we should go further afield.' Sitting with her legs splayed in front of her, she scratched at her head. 'What do you think, ladies? How about we try a more ambitious peak than just a wee Scottish hill?'
'Where do you have in mind?' I wondered.
'The North Face of the Eiger,' Charlie said, 'or cross the Atlantic to Mount Moran or the Devil's Tower in the Rockies maybe, they've never been scaled. Nor has Annapurna or Everest.'
Lorna led the laughter. 'Now you are over-optimistic
