Camping at Sligachan, for me, means getting a hot shower after a day on the hills, then getting some beer in the Sligachan Inn. The Slig brews its own ales next door to the pub and they are often delicious. There is a river running past the campsite to use as a fridge for your wine and milk, and a comically huge Scandinavian who collects your fees, but if there is no breeze and it is not too bright, the dreaded midge appears and bites you while you are trying to munch your porridge in the morning. The only methods of defence are to pace up and down while you eat (midges don’t bite if you are moving), use Avon Skin So Soft (the midges hate it) or pure deet (which burns your skin off), or drink enough in the Slig the night before that alcohol seeps from every pore.