My son, Alex, used to have birthday sleep overs, and then for a few years he had birthday camping sleep overs in our garden which usually meant getting about four hours sleep as the little darlings went to bed at 2am and got up at 6am to play "hunt".
Enough was enough so for the last two years we have been going to Glencoe and just before the scabrous mountain that is Buachaille Etive Mor we head left down the single-track Glen Etive road for about half an hour until pulling over into a lay-by and rough camping about a quarter of a mile away from the road.
Getting to the camp isn't easy. The ground is rough and you have to traverse a stream. The boys had great fun playing "hunt" and "torchlight", or whatever they call it, and did some exploring. They found several dead deer in various stages of decomposition. I found one at a waterfall that looked like it was sleeping were it not for the angle of its neck. I played one game of hunt and won - no-one found me as I sat in the woods next to our camp in pitch darkness but while I sat there I kept seeing something in the trees. It was white and approached and receded and looked like a sheet flapping in the wind. I kept switching on my torch to see what it was and saw only trees, but it was back as soon as I switched the torch off.
Last year we camped in the exact same spot and brought my daughter and her friend along, and the dog. While gathering wood for the fire we entered the trees and found a large metal pot, about four feet in diameter. We tried to lift it, but it was really heavy. I couldn't lift it on my own. I couldn't even move it. Four of us managed to get it a few inches off the ground. Above the pot, hanging from the branches were bits of ropes and various blades and things that looked like saws. I still can't imagine who would struggle to carry such a heavy object a quarter of a mile from the main road over uneven ground and across a stream to put it in the woods, and why they would do that.
In twelve hours time, we'll be back there.