Farewell to Islay. And farewell to Jura although I didn’t manage a visit this year. But the sight of the Paps of Jura reminded me of adventures past. Of the Bens of Jura Fell Races. Of persuading my dad to drive his clapped out Morris Oxford Estate to make the long journey — he hadn’t been further north than Guisborough at the time. Of the Rock & Run Mountain Marathon with my eldest son, who carried his dad’s rucksack on the run in to gain those vital seconds.