Malky, HB's Dad had cancer. We received a call on a Thursday telling us the days following would be the last chance we would have to spend with him.
I had always got on with Malky, not always agreeing on things but we developed an understanding and respect for each other. We got the crack and I was lucky enough to spend some time with him. Just me and Malky, putting the world to rights, ripping the pish out each other and failing to follow each others broad accents, although this was often my downfall in an argument over Malcolm's, him having two daughter's who had a hybrid lowlander/Caithness accent.
Malky was make an honorary member of the Massif when we stayed at Lybster and had a wild night out in his local, The Bayview before we all headed back and hammered all Makly's booze into us at his house.
On the 5th of April Malcolm lost the battle he had fought so hard against cancer. It was a Saturday.
Me and Malky. Good times.
Malky gets initiated into the Massif.
I spend the next wee while between Lybster and Thurso, heading to Ferg's when siblings needed to sort out sibling things. As always, I used the bike to clear my head, gather thoughts and generally get my shit together. Most of these were solo runs but Ferg joined me for a few. He even gave me a shot of his Sherco trials bike. HB would have had a shot too but the Sherco's crazy torque and temperamental clutch ruled that out for now.
HB's brother Tom also let me have my first go at welding, something that may come in handy with a future project I've got myself.
I'd headed north through Glen Shee and over The Lecht. I headed home wards through Glen Coe. On both trips the weather was awesome.
Cheers Malky. This Lowlander will miss ye.