A chill wind howled over the Firth of Forth's icy waters, blasting rain into my face with a bitter sting. In the haze far below small waves rose from the turbulent water. Scotland turned her fury against us and there was naught we could do but tuck our faces deeper into saturated hoods and cower at the scene around us. The Forth Rail Bridge glowed a brilliant crimson against the angry sky, flinching not an inch within the maelstrom of the gale. Standing high over the waters, encircled by a swirling shield of the elements, this night she was nigh on impenetrable to the likes of us.