"Tell them about the 6-year-olds."

Four of our party are experienced Scout leaders, so I was looking forward to a few good hikes on this trip. Since we spent yesterday lounging around our luxury cabin, exploring the village of Ballater and the River Dee, and watching a glorious sunset over the Grampian mountains on the Queen's Balmoral Estate, we opted for a "walk" today. Why the Brits call a walk a hike is something I just don't understand. Friends have explained that a walk is usually over flat ground, while a hike involves more effort, but if that's true, then surely today's expedition was a hike, not a walk, as they kept calling it.

After a "cooked" or "fried" breakfast (a traditional English fried breakfast includes eggs, sausages, baked beans, fried tomato and the English bacon that we'd consider Canadian bacon), our group set off. We drove about 15 minutes until we were near Lochnagar, a well-known munro (a Scottish peak higher than 3,000 feet beloved by mountain climbers).

We started by climbing up through a few stands of pine tree, part of the ancient Caldedonian forest that once covered about one-third of Scotland. It was a cold, cloudy February day, with temperatures between 25 to 32 degrees Fahrenheit, but being well-wrapped and fast moving kept us warm. We quickly gained ground over rocky hills covered only in bell heather, sphagnum moss and other hardy plants, and we had to keep our eyes out for the many green-moss covered boulders in our path. At one point we forded a river, although my fording was really scrambling over rocks so I could cross without getting wet. It was too cold for damp shoes!

Soon, it seemed, we were skirting large patches of ice and snow and, after a quick break below the main summit where we stopped out of the wind for sandwiches, crisps (chips) and apples, we were soon on top of a small range of peaks (known as the corrie flanking the peak). It took about three hours of fairly steep climbing to get to the top, and then we made our way along the ridge, marveling at the small, frozen Lochnagar (a mountain lake) ensconced beneath the peaks. After finally climbing around the corrie, we made our way onto the main summit of Cac Carn Beag. I took my turn scrambling onto the man made piller, or trig point, that puts the visitor at truly the highest point (3790 feet). It was too cold to stay up there for long, however, and by this time the sun was quickly descending, so we made our way back down by a different route.

After leaving the top of the mountain, we walked down a long, snow-covered plain alongside a roaring river. We couldn't see what was ahead, but we could see that the plain dropped off sharply as two mountains came together ahead of us.

"I feel a strange sense of dread," I told the others as we carefully picked our way along the icy snow to the end of the plain. "I feel like I'm in a boat being carried along by the river, and that we're just about to come to the edge of the river and be dumped over the side of a huge waterfall."

In fact, that's exactly what would have happened, had we been in a boat. Luckily we were just next to the river, following a nice, safe path. It curved away and down from the plain but as it curved back around, I literally gasped at the new vista. A tremendous waterfall stood before me, and far below, nestled beneath a horizon of rocky peaks, was a dark, blue lake surrounded by ancient pines. It was Loch Muick, a popular lake that's usually accessed by easier routes. We climbed down to the shores of the lake and stood quietly at its side as the setting sun cast orange rays over its barely rippling surface. We then walked a good 4 kilometers along a flat path back to the car park and our nice, warm car. The entire trek took seven hours.

All of this would have made us feel very adventurous and proud of our physical prowess, except for one thing. Since it was a wintry Monday, we saw very few other hikers and only one other group on our path. But as is often the case on such long hikes, it seemed that the other group was destined to be either just behind or just beyond us on the path. And it consisted of a dad, a mum and two towheaded young boys.

As we made our way gasping up a particularly steep hill, Neil observed, "I'd feel better about this if we weren't being left behind by those two kids."

Later, when we'd climbed to the highest peak and stood there a few moments catching our breath, we looked down and realized the family was just in front of us. They'd reached the summit a few moments before and were now heading off for the next part of the walk.

"I can't believe we're getting creamed by a couple of 6-year-olds," muttered Scout leader Tom. We all agreed.

Later, as we plowed through the endless plain of snow, we came across the boys again, who this time were busy crafting a makeshift sled out of a plastic bag and sledding down the slope as Mum and Dad laughed. Ingenious, of course, But then the little boys jumped up laughing and raced on ahead of their parents.

"Where do they get all of that energy?" we asked.

"They don't know what it's like to be old and crippled," grunted Dave, who's also a Scout leader and has reached the grand old age of 26 or 27, although I must admit he had banged up his knee somewhere along the hike and was suffering a bit. That didn't stop Dave, though, from camping out on the shores of Loch Muick that night, so we waved goodbye to him when we reached the lake. As we left him behind in the thickly falling winter night, we joked that he'd be attacked by some vicious creature found on the Balmoral Estate, such as a red squirrel or possibly an otter, one of the few creatures hardy enough to inhabit a Scottish loch.

Those two little boys kept reminding me of my brother and myself in past years, back when our parents took us on weekly hikes up the Arizona mountains around our desert home. But on such a long hike I would surely have been complaining loudly. These kids didn't. As the boys scurried past me on the path yet again today, I finally couldn't help chatting with one. I smiled at him and asked, "Aren't you tired yet?" He just giggled and hurried on ahead.

In the end, the family took a different turn from us and we lost sight of them during the last stage of our walk. For all I know, they're still out there now, dancing happily along the mountain.

After a stop at the co-op to buy a few groceries (where a few of us, it must be admitted, limped rather pitifully as our muscles had stiffened up considerably in the cold) we headed back to our nice, warm lodge. Kristen and I cooked while the others enjoyed hot baths and, over dinner, I announced that I really ought to update my blog.

"I won't write much," I said (and I thought I was telling the truth, but I obviously got carried away!). "I'll just share a bit of what we did, but I ought to share something informative, or at least a funny story."

"Tell them about the 6-year-olds," Tom advised.

Boys, wherever you are tonight, know that seven young adults hold you in awe.