TGO Challenge 2013 - part one,
Shiel Bridge to Kingussie
May 2013
After
months of obsession and planning, the story actually began in the wee small hours on 8th May when I headed
north on my long journey to the start at Shiel Bridge. Dropped at Daisy Hill I
went by train to Manchester (£4.70), super-cheap Megabus from Manchester to
Glasgow (£1.00 + 50p booking fee) and another supercheap Scottish City Link
ticket from Glasgow to Shiel Bridge (£6.00). All hail the internet and being
able to search for cheap bus tickets! Total cost for journey: £12.20p.
The
journey was off to an auspicious start when the waiting travellers at Shudehill Interchange were treated to an
impromptu concert: a young man got his guitar out and was playing beautifully
while we waited. What a treat! Once on the bus I plugged my ears into my Ipod
and zoned out for a few hours, listening to a Clive Cussler audio book.
Surfacing in Glasgow I met up with my first group of Challengers, who were
about to leap onto the Campletown bus on their way to start from Ardrishaig. My
own bus was packed solid, and the journey as far as Fort William was fairly
grim. A brief respite there led to the inevitable cup of tea and visit to the
loo in Morrisons, plus brief sociability with other Challengers, including
‘Podcast Bob’ from Backpacking Light, from whom I had purchased a new rucsac
recently. More about my bag later…
I
have done the trip up to Shiel Bridge a number of times. It has to be said that
arriving in daylight at the campsite is highly recommended – my Easter trip
necessitated pitching by torchlight. I had a brief chat with other Challengers
on site, then bedded down, excited about tomorrow. What adventures were about
to unfold? What would the weather have in store for us? Would my feet survive
this year?
Day One, Friday May 9th
2013
Habitually
awake very early I couldn’t stay in my tent. I was excited, full of adrenalin,
and raring to go. What is more, unexpectedly, the sun was shining! It was a
beautiful morning.
I had
breakfast, struck camp and set off down to the sign out point at the Kintail
Hotel. Because I was early I pottered around on the beach for a while, where
the views out across the water were still and mirrored, took photos and chatted
to some other walkers – who turned out to be Munroe Baggers, not Challengers. I
did the obligatory ‘feet in the water’ bit, and it was still very early.
It was too early to even get a cup of tea in the hotel! Impatient to get started I signed out and set off via Morvich and into Gleann Lichd
My pack was fairly
heavy, as I was carrying food to get me to Drumnadrochit on Sunday. It was also
the first time I had properly carried my new pack, as I had only decided to go
ahead with investing in it a few days before setting off. I couldn’t get the
adjustment right. I hitched it up, let it out, tightened, slackened, and
generally fidgeted all morning. Had I made a terrible mistake relinquishing my
trusty, if a tad uncomfortable Golite Pinnacle pack?
Arriving at Glenlight
House I took a decent break and had what was either second breakfast or early
lunch. I knew there was a big climb ahead, and could see the weather was on the
change. I crossed the bridges and approached the steep 'back wall'.
Other Challengers
were beginning to catch up (and pass me) including David Towers, see here
crossing the brige at the bottom of the climb, and the honeymoon group of
Jacqueline and Anthony Ford and Jacquline’s daughter Emily Best.
Rain began to fall as I climbed up past the waterfalls heading towards Camban bothy.
Last time I was up
here (at Easter, doing a 'recce') everything had been frozen, and the waterfalls had been fabulous
sculptures. Now the water was running. The scale of the waterfalls was huge –
as can be seen from the tiny size of the walkers in this shot across the
hillside.
I
don’t like big climbs. Never have. The trudge up to Camban was a trial,
especially carrying a heavy, unfamiliar pack. I compounded this by having a
tumble. Crossing some very smooth, upward sloping, smooth slabs I slipped,
landing on my forehead and nose, and luckily not breaking my glasses. This
narrow escape rattled me, as I realised I didn’t have my sunglasses with me, so
had no spare glasses! Going lightweight, and the compromises you make is
sometimes problematic – and I KNEW I had been lucky here. Getting up to ‘the
top’ of the climb was SUCH a relief, and I set off across the last bit to
Camban, with promises to myself about having a brew and proper feed.
The
bothy was heaving by the time I got there, with lots of Challengers all intent
on getting out of the weather and brewing up. Excitement levels were high!
My
plan for the night was to camp at the head of Loch Affric. The weather
continued to deteriorate. By the time I got to the hostel at Alltbeithe I was
desperate to get out of the weather for a while, so I went in to shelter for a
little while. It didn’t take me long to find out that there were spare beds: a
party of five from Cannich had cancelled. Quickly I got myself booked in. It
was a no-brainer. Nasty fall, bumped head, chance of a warm dry night, as
opposed to a wildcamp in foul weather…
Day Two, Saturday May
10th 2013
I have heard
descriptions of Alltbeithe youth hostel as “two huts in a bog”, but I loved the place.
The roaring fire and the friendly warden made for a comfortable stay, even
though going to the loo in the night meant boots and waterproofs had to be
donned. Well rested, and delighted to have made a good decision yesterday,
(because the weather overnight had been terrible) I felt good setting off on
what I knew would be a long day. Stopping at the youth hostel meant I had
stopped early, and those extra miles still needed to be walked. I wanted to get
all the way down to the campsite at Cannich, 19 miles away. That is a long day
for me carrying a full pack, even walking on familiar ground. I knew I had to
pace myself and just get it done.
The track out from the hostel was very wet, and streams were up.
I chatted with other Challengers as we walked together for short periods of time. Glen Affric is beautiful, even in rotten weather, but it was sad that the mist was down, so the hills were not in view. Gradually, as the morning progressed the rain eased, though the wind remained strong.
As the morning wore
on the cloud lifted, and by the time I passed Affric Lodge and got down to Loch
Beinn a Mheadhoin the sun actually came out.
By now I was walking
and chatting with David Towers, an amazing 80 year old Challenger. This was his
27th crossing. Awesome! I could just about keep up with him he had
to be fitter than I was! He was also heading for Cannich, but had set his heart
on a meal in Tomich, so we went on different routes for the latter part of the
day.
There
is quite a climb on the track at the bottom end of the loch, then a big drop
down to Dog Falls. Very pretty, but not what you want when your legs are tired.
I was still having rucsac issues, but not as badly as on day one. I was
delighted to sample a newish composting loo at Dog Falls, and then trudged on,
keeping myself going by counting paces to mark off the kilometres to Cannich.
I
wanted to eat a proper meal. Hot food. Lots of calories. I knew the Slaters
Arms in Cannich did food, and I was hoping I would get there before they
stopped serving for the day. Time was getting on. 7.00pm was approaching. What
time would they stop serving? Round and round this went in my brain. At last I
got there. The campsite could wait. It would still be there later. Food might
not be. I went in, dropped my pack near the door and eased my poor feet out of
my boots. Somewhat sweaty, clad in my socks I went into the restaurant. Imagine
my surprise to find David Towers sat there before me! He had yomped to Tomich,
had a main course there, and come on here to Cannich to get his sweet! Talk
about fast walking. I had an amazing Aberdeen Angus burger and the most
delicious Guinness I have ever tasted. Just what I needed. We also ate with
another David, (not sure about his second name) who was aiming to complete his
crossing on Monday, as he had to get back to work on Tuesday. The prospect of
doing a crossing that fast seemed amazing, especially as I was so tired at that
point, but I suppose if you did not take any rest days, and limited the climbs
and boggy routes it could be doable. Not much fun though.
I
don’t remember much after the food. The campsite was very nice – certainly one
to go back to in the future. Very tired I pitched up and went to bed. Didn’t
even have a shower, although the toilet block was very nice. Too tired.
Day Three, Sunday May 11th
2013
Sunday
was a bit of a blur. I was still feeling the effects of my mega-walk yesterday.
The first part of the day was road walking, although I didn’t see many cars. The
weather was much kinder, in that it was mostly dry, although still cold and
windy. I kept taking my gloves off, only to have to put them back on a few
minutes later, because the wind-chill was nasty.
I yomped the first few miles, then when I got to
Corrimony I took the track through the forest. I have walked this lovely route
before, and enjoyed looking at the trees and wild flowers, listening to the
birds singing, and taking things at a much gentler pace than yesterday.
During the course of
the day I had finally got my new rucsac tamed, and was beginning to feel more
comfortable in myself. I had eaten most of my supplies too, so the weight I was
carrying had dropped. From Corrimony to Lochletter I followed good forest
tracks, so didn’t have to worry about where I was putting my feet. Although it
was not level, the gradients were pretty gentle. I suppose that this section
was passed in a sort of daydreaming mode. I made use of one of the picnic
tables at Lochletter to sit and brew up and to get my boots off to air my feet,
before I continued trundling on down the road to Drumnadrochit. Here I went
shopping, stocking up on treats such as fresh fruit & veg and a litre of
fruit juice. Unfortunately there was no Primula cheese in a tube. I bought
cheese triangles, but was not sure how they would stand up to life in a rucsac.
Wearily I wended my way to the Backpackers Hostel, clutching carrier bags of
food. David Towers was also staying at the hostel, and we spent the evening
chatting. On reflection, this is probably not the best placed place to stay –
it is about as far as you can get in Drumnadrochit from where the ferry jetty
is. You live and learn though. However it was cheap and cheerful, warm, with a nice
bed, and plenty of scope to cook a decent meal from fresh ingredients from the
local shop, as well as to dry out my remaining soggy gear.
Day Four, Monday May
12th 2013
An
early start to day four was essential, as I was booked onto the 8.00am ferry,
and it is a couple of miles from the hostel to the jetty. I set off into a cold
wind at 6.50 with David Towers. He had been over Loch Ness on the little ferry
before, so at least I didn’t have to worry about finding the jetty.
Used to the dodgy weather by now I didn’t pay
much attention to the cold, and had not realised that the hills had a fresh
coving of snow until the ferryman, Gordon Menzies told us that there had been
snow overnight on the hills.
We met up with two
other Challengers, Karin Moor and Leendert Bakker, from Amsterdam.
Gordon Menzies had
brought a loaf of sliced bread when he came down to the boat. We soon found out
what it was for…
Karin had great fun
feeding the ducks that turned up, while we took photos.
Once we got away from
the shore the water got very choppy, and the little boat became quite unstable
as we went past Urquhart Castle.
We lurched across the
waves, and I reflected on how lucky I am to have a strong stomach. I noticed
that Gordon had a lifeboats logo on his jacket and asked him about that. It
turns out he is one of the co-ordinators of the local team. I had not thought
about them working on inland waterways before, but when you look at the scale
of Loch Ness it seems logical.
As
we made the crossing squalls ran up the loch. A rainbow appeared.
Approaching the landing place at Inverfarigaig
Gordon warned us that the landing stage was not in good condition. Trip boats
are not encouraged to land there, and little maintenance is ever done there. We
could see what he meant as we climbed over rusty rails onto a pile of huge boulders. But we were
Challengers – we knew how to climb… Packs heaved over onto dry(ish) land we
waved goodbye to the ferry.
Leaving the jetty
there is a delightful climb up a narrow gorge towards the hills beyond.
I
found it hard to get into my rhythm, and opted to walk gently at my own pace,
rather than try to keep up with the others.
I was ‘tickled’ when at
the junction in Errogie I saw the local ‘library’
And the 'statue' of a frog below the chevron sign,
Someone
living here has a sense of humour!
Squalls
kept running through, increasing in intensity as the morning wore on. As I
climbed it got colder and colder, and the force of the wind became much
stronger. Sitting on the bridge at Farraline I met up with Susan and Chris
Marshall. I had chatted with them on day one at Camban Bothy. They were heading
in the same direction as me, but I decided to stick with my own pace, as they
were moving much faster than me. Leaving the relative shelter of the farmland
at Farraline the full force of the weather hit me as I climbed through the col
between Meall a Ghurrmein and Maol Chnoc. By now the squalls were coming
through regularly, laden with stinging hailstones that were flying almost
horizontally in the strong wind. As each squall approached the bright sunlight
was blotted out and visibility reduced to a few metres. The cold was vicious. I
normally am warm enough walking in a long sleeved Marino wool base layer and my
Paramo Velez Adventure Light jacket. I didn’t wait long in these conditions before
I stopped and added my Rab TGO 2012 fleece.
Passing by Dunmaglass
Lodge looked easy on the map. In reality the grounds around the place were shut
up tight by high deer fences, and I ended up walking miles around the place
before I was able to get access. Add in the nasty weather conditions, and by
lunchtime I was feeling tired and very demoralised. This was not helped by
finding a sticky cheesy mess that had once been cheese triangles. Ah well, you
live and learn.
The
wind was so strong that I had a terrific struggle crossing this stile over a
deer fence. I managed to get up to the top without too much difficulty, but one
there was buffeted so hard that I ended up clinging on for dear life, waiting
until the pounding from the wind reduced enough for me to step out across the
top, and to change my balance to climb down. By the time I got down to the
other side I felt like I had just done a very heavy session in the gym, I was
so battered about. Scary.
Eventually
I was able to get over the river at Dunmaglass and start some serious climbing
up the landrover track around the shoulder of Cairn Beinn Mheadhoin. By now
there was more squall than sun, and I had given up any hope of improvement in
the weather. Taking shelter from one particularly nasty squall I hunkered down
in a big boulder heap by the track – and fell asleep! I awoke, thinking I was
in my armchair at home. Weird! That
brief sleep was what I needed though. Snatching a snack before I set off again,
I continued climbing.
My heart sank when I
got to the river crossing for the Allt Cailtidh. There was no way to get across
in my boots. Pounded by more hailstones I took off my boots and tied them onto
my sack, donning my sandals and rolling my trousers up as high as I could get
them. The water was so intensely cold it HURT as I struggled against the
current. Shivering, I rubbed my feet dry and felt such intense pleasure as I
put my socks back on! Boots on. Something to eat. Tie sandals on the outside of
my pack to drip.
Less than a kilometre
higher up the track I was confronted by another raging torrent. This time,
there had been some recent ‘road maintenance’ and the track was churned up into
a quagmire. There was nowhere to sit to take my boots off for ages before the
crossing. I would have to approach the water through a considerable distance of
nasty churned up gritty mud. What to do? I decided to follow the side stream
uphill until I found a crossing point. There was a deer track up the stream. I
reckoned if a deer could get up there I could follow their tracks. Slowly I
climbed along the Allt nan Adag.
Although I was off
route, this was a lovely interlude. Each time I looked at a potential crossing
it told me “boots off”, and each time I thought of the pain of the cold
earlier. I wandered upstream for about 20 minutes before deciding that I would
have to bite the bullet and go to sandals again. At least I had a comfy place
to sit down, a reasonable place to cross, and could see somewhere to sit on the
other side to ‘re-boot’. Once over the water and with my boots on again, I dug
out my GPS to check my location, and took a compass bearing to bring me back to
the landrover track.
Before
long I became aware of the sound of a vehicle. I must be near the track. Then
the smell of diesel. Cresting a rise, imagine my surprise to see two diggers
working on the trackway. These beasties must be the cause of all the mess down
at the river ford earlier. The drivers seemed a bit bemused to see a bedraggled
Challenger passing them by – coming in from the mountain rather than up the
trackway.
Scrambling down the back onto the track I continued to climb uphill.
Before long I started to come across snowdrifts. Sue and Chris’s footprints
were there – and at one point they had etched their names into the surface of
the snow. How romantic!
The constant battering by the weather was having
a great toll on me. I was SHATTERED by now. I knew I was not far from the
bothy, but I kept wondering what sort of condition it would be in. I was
craving shelter from the weather – but was still prepared to put up my Trailstar
in the lee of it, if it was nasty inside. Finally, at the end of my strength, I
came around a corner and saw the bothy. Just a shed, tucked down below the
banks of peat, but four walls and a roof. The shutters were all closed. Was it
locked? Great relief – the door opened and I stepped in out of the wind.
There is a strange
whole-body sensation when you step from a storm into shelter. I noticed it last
year when I got to Melgarve Bothy on ‘Storm Sunday’. Your body vibrates, yet
you feel kind of numb at the same time. Very weird. I just stood, dripping for
a few moments, then dropped my pack and started stripping off wet layers.
Water. I knew I needed water. I remembered the stream outside and dragged my
jacket back on to go and fill up. Wobbily, I faced the pounding weather again,
and lost my footing, slipping as I went to draw water. After all my trials
crossing rivers and managing to keep my boots dry, I got my right foot soaked.
Cross with myself, I retreated again into the calm of the bothy, latching open
one of the window shutters to give me some light.
Taking
stock, I unpacked and set things out to drip dry. I didn’t have any wood, so
could not light the stove, but at least I was out of the wind. There was a pole
by the door, and I could see from marks on the door and floor that this was
used as a prop to keep the door shut from inside. Unfortunately the wind was so
strong that it kept being knocked over, and the door slammed open
intermittently. I dragged a bench across the floor against the prop, and that
solved the problem. I guessed that if anyone else arrived they would make their
presence known, and I could shift the bench to let them in, but no-one else did
turn up.
The walls were lined
with coat hooks, which was great for dripping things dry. There was a big
central table and benches, but no sleeping platform. The floor was dirty, but
there was a brush, so I swept a corner clean to lay out my sleeping bag – only
to see the muck blowing back! Deciding I needed to get up out of that draft I
briefly considered the table, then realised the benches were all the same
height. I dragged them together and made an impressive sleeping platform.
I
was still very cold, despite wrapping up in all my down gear, so after eating I
boiled up another pan of water and filled my litre platypus with hot water.
Placing this in one of my small dry bags it made a really nice hot-water
bottle. Worried about the force of the wind and the window above my ‘bed’ I
shut the window shutter, bringing darkness to the bothy, before settling down
for the night. Briefly I wondered if the rattling roof would blow away in the
storm, before I drifted off to sleep.
Day Five, Tuesday May
14th 2013
Despite
the storm raging outside I slept reasonably well, and woke early. I filled up
on my hot breakfast muesli, plus a few bits left from yesterday, thinking that
today could be another hard day. I had no idea…
I put the furniture
back and collected all my gear, which had more or less dripped dry. Packing up
I said a brief thanks to the bothy for giving me shelter, and stepped back into
the wind.
Although a fair
amount of snow had fallen, the wind was scouring it away again, and little
remained outside. I took a bearing on where I had to go, and my heart sank.
Vast acres of quagmire were ahead of me. I saw a path. A little off my bearing,
but it must be going somewhere. Someone in a vehicle had been across this
morass, so that way must be reasonably safe. Against all the things I have
learned over the years I followed the track, not my compass. And followed the
track. And followed the track. I could see Carn Ghriogair and Carn Odhar. I
needed to go across the col between them. Then I realised I was not going into
the col. Oops! GPS out. I was miles away from where I should be. Stupid.
STUPID.STUPID, STUPID!
Now I walked a
compass bearing. Now I bog-trotted. Now I covered miles and miles of the nasty
stuff. Now I got a bit paranoid about checking my location with GPS. Due to my crass stupidity
and having to re-route myself, I found I was walking directly into the wind.
That meant that every squall drove directly into me from the front. I felt like
the abominable snowman.
Finally
I got myself back on a trackway. It was not the one I should have been on, but it was
heading in the right direction. Every stream I had to cross was flooding the
track, but I managed to cross them all with my boots on.
Eventually
I started to come down off the hill into the valley above Dalbeg. I had lost a
couple of hours with that debacle, so decided to stop in the lee of the
building and have a proper lunch and brew-up. The sun even came out while I was
sitting there, and I took my jacket off for a short while. Then it rained
again. At least it was wet rain, not lumpy, stinging, sharp icy stuff. I
was just finishing off my meal and feeling quite content with the world when
Bernie Roberts and Alan (?) turned up. I had met Bernie in Shiel Bridge and
Alan last year in Blair Athol, so we caught up for a few minutes, before I
pushed on. They were going to carry on down the River Findhorn, whilst I was
going to turn off at Coignafearn Lodge up the Elrick Burn, and over to
Kingussie.
The track from Dalbeg
to Coignfearn Lodge was lovely. I could walk without wondering where to put my
feet. What is more, the sun came out now and again. I trotted along thinking my
troubles were over…
Just
before Coignfearn Lodge I turned south over the bridge and began to climb up
the Elrick Burn.
I had been warned
that I MUST cross the burn at the bridge, or woe betide the consequences on the
wrong side. As a result I got a bit worried when I thought I should have got to
it, but eventually it appeared, well camouflaged.
I enjoyed
walking up the valley beside the waters.
All too soon my climb
brought me back to the patches of snow that had not been blown away in the
valley. See the snow-bridge over the stream. Dangerous…
Climbing to
the watershed brought me back to the delights of bog-snorkelling…
…interspersed
by avoiding treacherous sinkholes, below which I could hear tumultuous water
flowing.
Shattered by now, as
a result of my second peat-hag session of the day, suddenly the view into the
next valley opened up. Somewhere down there was my objective for the night –
another bothy described as ‘small but useful’ I continued on the ridge for a
while, thinking that it was going to be less soggy underfoot than down at the
bottom, then dropped down the valley-side to seek out my shelter for the night.
I was so tired I really hoped the bothy was usable, as I couldn’t face having
to pitch camp…
…
so imagine my delight to find a magnificent new structure had recently been
built next to the old bothy. The river I had to cross in the morning was
running worryingly high. I could only pray that it would fall, not rise,
overnight.
I opened the door to
this octagonal ‘palace’ and was hit by the beautiful smell of pine, and a sense
of quiet (as a result of getting out of the tormenting wind) After a brief
pause I went back outside to collect water. This time I managed to collect it
without getting my feet wet.
I
spread out soggy gear to air, fed myself, made up a ‘hot water bottle’ in my
platypus, and without a qualm in the world snuggled up in my sleeping bag on
the floor.
Day Six, Wednesday May 15th
2013
Again
I was awake bright and early. My prayer for the river level to fall had been
answered, and I got across with dry feet. Even the pounding wind had
diminished. It was cold and frosty, with that sparking clarity you sometimes
get early in the day.
Climbing up the hill and looking down at the bothy I reflected on the struggles I had endured over the last few days, and hoped things would get better from now on.
The climb up from the bothy was considerable. I got up to 760m as the track skirted around the shoulder of Carn an Fhreiceadain. The view was fabulous.
For the first time on this trip the air was clear, although cold, and the wind had dropped. I had another of those ‘gloves on/gloves off’ sessions, but in the end decided that on was necessary. It seemed like there would be a few hours of fine weather. Despite the climb, I was moving well, and it felt good to be alive. I felt that this was truly what walking in the mountains was all about…
All good things have to end, however, and before long I began the long descent into Kingussie. Thank goodness for sticks! Before long my knees were on fire as I dropped from 750m to 230m in four and a half miles. I was SO glad I was not ascending that slope!
I had planned to get into Kingussie by mid-day, as it was half-day closing, and I needed to resupply. I got there by 11.30, and popped into a café for a splendid baked potato & cheese late morning snack. I had been running low on gas for my stove, not having planned for the extra hot drinks and hot-water bottles I had been making as it was so cold, so I was glad to find gas on sale in one of the shops. Then I visited a real loo for the first time since Monday morning. Luxury! My happiness was complete when I went into the grocers ‘Murchies’ and was able to buy all my usual fresh food treats and get Primula cheese in a tube.
I
made my way to my B&B (Greystones) where I ate lunch in the garden watching
the local wildlife and landlady’s chickens. When it came on to rain my landlady
told me I could come inside, and I was able to get into my room. The most
ecstatic delight followed that – I had a HOT BATH!!!! The remainder of the day
went down to sleeping, eating and reading. Early to bed, in a real bed, with a
real, fluffy duvet. Luxury!
