By the banks of the river Isla we
continue our route, we pass a caravan bearing the inscription
"We like sheep have gone astray". Being troubled by a cold wind blowing in at the foot of the tent, and having tramped on another chaps face, I decided it would be better to get up, so at 4.30 a.m. the whole camp rose to prepare for our journey to Dunkeld.
Once more we commence the backing of baggage, now we roll up our tents, and they are ready for the waggon.
We breakfast at 8 a.m., seated on the grass, and express ourselves quite fresh and ready for the walk.
We return with the waggon through the wood, and close the gate behind us, on what has proved to be a very pleasant week end, and hope for as good luck in the next place.
Halting for a moment at the cottage over the way, the old folks wish us a pleasant journey, we thank them for their kindness, and agree, they are both "jolly good fellows".
Left! Left! through the village of Coupar Angus we now go, keeping a good pace, we round on to the Dunkeld road.
By the banks of the river Isla we
continue our route, we pass a caravan bearing the inscription
"We like sheep have gone astray".
A Hawker in his "go cart" now pass, he hails us with the shout "Go it me little lads".
Further to the north of us, we enter the village of Meikleour.
We all enter the Post Office, and Conning displays half a dozen postcards, to the favoured few of his admires, each bearing that strange device, "How are you enjoying your little self".
Continuing on our way, we greet a carrier "good morning", he waves to us from his cart as we pass, while here and there a ploughman stops his work to watch us.
We gallop down the hill, through the village of Spittlefield, to the shouts of the youngsters by the way, and the astonishment of the rustic at his door.
Reaching the village of Caputh we are subjected to a heavy downpour of rain, but a friendly dairy farmer opens his barn to us, and here we partake of Lemonade and Sandwiches, while we wait for the weather to improve.
After half an hours rest we continue on
our way all hands are at the ropes as we encounter a very steep
incline in the road.
Steadily on for 2 miles increase our speed, and arriving at a small wood, we shelter again from the rain.
"Here comes Mr Shaw", we rush out to meet him, and the camp is now completed by the presence of the Scoutmaster.
We move off again and meet the gaze of a bunch of tinkers, by the side of Birnam wood we march, and see Dunkeld in the distance.
After a brief interview with Mr Niven the butcher, from whom we have purchased three pounds of his best sausages, he allows us the use of his park for the night.
Our fire is now burning brightly, Mr Shaw superintends the cooking, he being a past master in that art, and sitting at the tent door the delicious odour of frying sausages reaches us. The bugler sounds the call "Come to the Cookhouse door boys" and we sit down to dine, our operations being watched with great interest by a crowd of spectators from the Bridge.
Clattering of plates and splashing of water announces the fact that dinner is over we now prepare to go into Dunkeld we have all heard of it but none of us have seen it.
The Old Cathedral first claims our attention, we now enter the half ruined edifice, & the stone hewn figures on the walls look down upon us as if complaining we have disturbed their "ancient solitary reign".
Down the narrow street we wind our way, and meet an old native, who tells us of the places of interest, and directs us the best way to go.
Returning to camp about 10 p.m. very pleased with our sojourn in Dunkeld.