Thursday 12 September 2013

TGO Challenge 2013, part three, Braemar to the east coast

Day Nine, Sunday May 19th 2013


Off early again, I was able to do the road section to Invercauld Bridge before there was much traffic. The worst of the storm had blown over, but there was a huge amount of water in the river.


Leaving the road and climbing into the Balmoral Estate, I was once again struck by the beautiful woodland.



Small streams were bankful, crashing down the hillsides. I was concerned. What was it going to be like once I got back up into the tops?

I even saw a newt in a puddle on the path.





I climbed steadily, stopping for lunch outside the bothy at Gelder Shiel. Here I met a party of day walkers who were just finishing their lunch, and had a brief chat.

The lovely paths that had gone as far as the bothy suddenly stopped, and I was back to some very strenuous peat-bashing uphill for the next mile or so. It was HORRIBLE. I will never walk that section again. Getting back up to the main trackway near Little Conachcraig I collapsed beside the track to recoup my strength, closely followed by Susan and Chris Marshall and Craig Smith, who I met at Braemar Youth Hostel. We shared rather vocal opinions about the so-called path we had just been on. Whilst in a state of collapse we were passed by a number of much less exhausted Challengers who had not detoured via the royal bothy.

Memo for the future. If I ever go this way again I will come up the main trackway, not via this nasty route across the heather!

Getting back on my feet I was very uncomfortable because I had pulled a muscle in my left side whilst heather bashing. I took some pain killer and carried on. The sun came out and I felt a bit better. In fact, it got rather hot. And I was climbing. Climbing a lot. Getting very hot! Then, I got stung by a bee. It bumped into my ribs on the right side and I exploded in pain. Panic. I couldn’t get my pack off because I hurt so much. Then, when I did, I couldn’t get my rucsac to open. I needed my first aid kit! I know I must have over-reacted, but the pain was immense. Eventually I got out the Anthisan and fed myself an antihistamine pill, and sat down for a while. When I stopped shaking I put everything back together and carried on. By now I was in a fairly wobbily state. Shock combined with painkiller plus antihistamine. Not good. I struggled on, seriously overheating in the sun.




As I continued up the track the view of Lochnagar was stunning, but I felt really terrible. I filled up my hat with snow from beside the path and sat down to cool off for a while. I chatted for a while with Craig Smith, who was also sitting there for a rest.

I was considering changing where I was planning to camp for the night. The Estate requests that no-one camps near Spittal of Glenmuick, but it is the logical place to break the route over to Tarfside. I had been going to detour to Glas-Allt-Shiel but in my current state I felt so poorly that I didn’t want to do anything I didn’t have to. Susan and Chris had earlier mentioned that they were planning to camp in the valley above Spittal. Craig had been in the area a lot with D of E training groups and also thought I could get my head down there.

The more I thought about it the less I liked the idea of the detour to Glas-Allt-Shiel. I decided to risk doing what Susan and Chris had suggested, climbing into the valley above Spittal of Glenmuick and camping there. Still lightheaded and very wobbly I pushed on, refilling my hat with snow a couple of more times when I needed to cool down again. There was something very soothing about having a gentle trickle of meltwater down my head and neck as I fried under the sun! Finally the climbing ended, and I was able to drop down 300m to the visitor centre at Spittal of Glenmuick. 

I wasn’t the only one to have difficulty that day. When I passed through the visitor centre the party of walkers I had seen earlier at Gelder Shiel were waiting with their bus. Another group of walkers from their club were late back from climbing Lochnagar, and they had not heard anything from them. By now it was about 6.30, and they were very overdue. I wished them well and left, plodding uphill again, following the lower Allt Darrarie. 



I climbed for a while until I was able to look back and just see a small patch of trees below. I guessed no-one at the visitor centre would see me up here, so I started to look for a pitch.




Eventually I found a pitch beside the stream for my Trailstar and settled down for the night.

Day Ten, Monday May 20th 2013

The day dawned misty. As I ate my breakfast tantalising patches of sunlight appeared and disappeared again, making me wonder if the sun would burn the mist off fairly soon.  Climbing to the top of the valley past snowdrifts I knew another demanding day lay ahead.


By now I was coming to terms with the fact that peat hag sploshing on a compass bearing is limited to about a mile an hour, with massive exertion.

I was delighted to arrive exactly on target for the bothy at Shielin of Mark. I had been told it would suddenly appear below me as I crested a ridge – and there it was, down below me! 

I popped inside and decided I would have to be desperate to ever want to stay there – I have never been in such a damp building before.

Wanting a treat I pulled out my bag of sweeties for the day, only to find that the fudge had melted in the heat of the previous afternoon, and cemented itself into a sugary breccia with jelly babies and minstrels! 

My initial dismay at finding my treats bag in this state soon turned to pleasure, as I bit off mouthfuls of mixed delight.

Another mile of bog-snorkling uphill on a compass bearing brought me to the summit of Muckle Cairn. Spot on again. I can do this navigation lark well if I concentrate.

Suddenly I was over the top, and the whole terrain changed. 

A very steep descent brought me down to Stables of Lee and the track along Glen Lee. Whilst on this track I met a party of very badly under-equipped foreign tourists who had walked miles off their map. I gently suggested that they should not go any higher up without proper equipment – and a few minutes later I saw them heading back to safety…

… that is, providing they avoided this little friend!

I was just thinking that it was time for a brew when I found this fabulous seat at the bottom end of Loch Lee …

... where I had this magnificent view whilst sipping my cup of tea.



Pushing on, and thinking about getting a meal at St Drostan’ I passed the castle at Invermark, on the way to Tarfside.

Suffice to say I camped on the green in Tarfide with other Challengers and had a lovely meal, prepared for us by volunteers from the ‘Over the hill club’ at St Drostan’s.

Day Eleven, Tuesday May 21st 2013

The next morning I was up early and off before many other walkers. I saw this lovely willow sculpture outside ‘The Retreat’, but did not stop in for breakfast as many Challengers do.


In comparison to the wild terrain I had become used to this farm country seemed lush. Wild flowers covered the verges – in this clump there were bluebells ranging from deepest purple though pink to almost white.


After road-bashing for a few miles (when Ron turned up unexpectedly to make arrangements for our meeting at the coast) I dropped down to the path alongside the River Esk.


After a short while, the path just vanished into a morass of rocks and pools, and become completely impassable. Puzzled, I clambered precariously up the bank.


When I was just about losing the will to live, I suddenly stepped out onto a much better path which was running higher up the bank. 


How I had missed this when I had originally gone down to the river I don’t know. Perhaps it was not running at that height in that location.This path was well maintained, and obviously had the tourist in mind, with seats in little nooks, and all sorts of ‘prettyfication’, including this rather nice wooden butterfly sculpture.


In places the path seemed to pass through a magical world. I had thoughts of Rivendell from Lord of the Rings in this glade. 


The river cut deeply through the rocks, but was not as spectacular as Linn of Dee. 

The whole bank became a fishing venue as I approached Edzell, with steps down to fishing ‘pegs’ and signs marking different beats. Eventually I came out onto a bridge which was the border between Aberdeenshire and Angus, and shortly afterwards reached Edzell where I had a wonderful lasagne followed by a fruit crumble and custard at the ‘Tuck Inn’. Although huge portions, it must be said that the food just ‘fell in’, to be followed by gallons of lovely tea! Thinking ahead to my last evening I visited the shop in Edzell to stock up on comestibles, then set out on the long road-walk to Northwater Bridge.

The less said about the long trudge the better. Suffice to say I was very glad to reach the site and get pitched, even happier to sit around a picnic table with other Challengers, sharing our last evening before having to return to ‘normality’.

Day Twelve, Wednesday May 22nd 2013

All good things have to come to an end they say. I was certainly very sad as I set off on my last day of this year’s Challenge. It was bright but chilly, the nagging wind keeping my gloved doing the on/off shuffle again. The lowland countryside was so lush in comparison with the mountains. I trekked along country lanes – and Ron found me again, and fed me sweeties before zooming off to wait at the beach.

One of the highlights of this section of the walk was this juxtaposition of old and new, an ancient standing stone close by concrete pre-cast sections that looked as if they were left over from a job at the nearby farm-yard. 

I think they were just there as a matter of chance, but the sight tickled my sense of humour though.

Then, the moment I had been looking forward to and dreading all in one. The first glimpse of the sea.


After negotiating the most dangerous section of the whole trip – a short section of the A92, on a bend, with no footpath, I got down to the last short section of the route, to see this warning to beware of toads (!) before getting to the car park and meeting up with Ron.


At the last moment, it seemed that my camera had died – but I had one last battery to record my arrival at Nether Warburton, and the ‘feet in the sea’ moment.


The hardest part of the whole trip had to be getting back up the beach up the soft shifting sand.  I was both glad and sad to be finished – and already starting to think about my next route!

Getting to the Park Hotel to sign out was a wonderful moment – but the building was stifling and very very hot, so I rushed through the formalities and quickly got Ron to take me back to the campsite.

Aftermath, Thursday May 23rd 2013

Lots and lots of Challengers constantly arriving at the campsite. Unfortunately there was a bitter wind, so hanging around chatting became impossible. Everyone retreated either to their sleeping bags or to the pub.

Thursday passed in a blur of going shopping (I HAD to get nail varnish to match my TGO T-shirt) then snoozing, eating and keeping out of the freezing wind. Finally it was time to get my glad rags on for the after-walk bash, and paint my nails to match the T-shirt.

The Park was a sea of orange. I was a mere youngster. I was in awe of the number of significantly fit older people who had been taking part this year, legends like Lou, 84 and Phillis his wife who is 81, from USA, 


…and David Towers, who is 80.

Much wine was consumed, and a good time was had by all.


Roll on TGO 2014 – and I hope I get a place! 


TGO Challenge 2013, part two, Kingussie to Braemar

Day Seven, Thursday May 16th 2013
After such a civilised break, it felt really strange setting out at the crack of dawn on Thursday. Passing the ruins of Ruthven Barracks I headed away from Kingussie towards Glen Feshie.
 
For the first time in the whole journey it was warm enough for me to remove my jacket – at least it was until I got into the shadow of the trees. Then it went back on again.

I was trolling along quite happily until I noticed this sign with warnings about dangers ahead. Luckily the notes we had been sent before the Challenge had mentioned these landslips, and I knew the route was passable with care.


The lower glen was really beautiful. I could see why so many people had good things to say about this place. There is obviously considerable investment by the estate as there were long stretches of new paths, and I saw teams of people carrying out additional improvements.


I was struck by the wild flowers, particularly the number of patches of violets that I saw.There were also places where there were huge numbers of tadpoles wriggling in shallow pools near, and in places on, the path.


I stopped at Ruigh Aiteachain bothy. A MBA member called Lindsay was staying there and doing some work for the estate. He had the stove on and was brewing up for all the Challengers who called in. He even gave me a slice of sultana cake. Lovely! I stopped and had a break for about an hour, before pushing on up the valley.

I was glad that I had done so, and had a good rest, as the terrain started to get much wilder a couple of miles higher up the valley. Lindsay knew the area well, had given me some insight into getting past the landslips, and suggested a couple of places where it would be good to wildcamp.

As the valley narrowed and headed east the path was more or less contouring along screes. The first landslip had occurred where a tree had fallen, wiping out the path completely. I crossed the loose stone very gingerly, glad that I had recently been joined by Bernie Roberts, who was doing his 20th crossing, and had been up here a number of times. 


Whereas the underfoot conditions had been good in the lower valley, as we climbed it got worse and worse. We crossed a couple of other landslips, and then reached the more open ground of the high valley. By now I was getting really tired. I had wondered about pushing on across to the upper Geldie valley tonight, but decided that enough was enough. I settled for a pitch at the old shieling near the waterfalls. There is an old ruined hut there known as ‘The pony hut’. Too tired to faff about, I pitched my Trailstar, I ate a scratch meal and got my head down.


Day Eight, Friday May 17th 2013 
Early to arise again I was off again at 6.30am, knowing I still had to make 17 miles to get to Braemar, where I was due to meet hubby Ron at the Youth Hostel, and to have a rest day on Saturday.

Looking back as I left the area I could see Bernie’s tiny red tent for miles. He had won it as a prize for something in TGO2012. I can remember him being presented with it at the dinner in Montrose.



I had heard many stories about ‘the bridge’ at the waterfalls here early on today’s route, but didn’t realise quite what they were on about until I actually got there.
Poised high above the tumbling waters I could see that this was no ordinary bridge, however, it looked OK from a distance…


… but this sign put my heart in my mouth as I crossed, feeling it move beneath my feet.


The first few miles after that were a bit bog-hopping, but paths started to appear and to improve. I think I had got onto Mar Estate land. By the time I got down to the ruined bothy by the crossing on the Geldie Burn I was in my element. I decided to stop for a proper meal as I had not eaten very well last night. I went to get water and realised that in all the times I have been here I have never seen the waters so low – and today I was not going to have to wade across! Last year the raging waters were well up mid-thigh. Today I could possibly have hopped across rocks with my boots on. Such are the vagaries of rivers in Scotland.

Pushing on down the valley I had a lovely walk, but did not stop to take pictures. I was in ‘yomping’ mode, covering the ground quite quickly. It was nice to be on familiar ground after so much navigation pressure during the last few days. The section from White Bridge to the Linn of Dee was a doddle.

It got really warm, and I was glad to plunge my feet into the icy pools at Linn of Dee, before pushing on to Mar Lodge. 


I was really disappointed when I got to Mar Lodge. Last year there had been a lovely walker’s cafĂ© in the gun room, and I felt welcomed and cossetted. This year there was a message passed from anther Challenger who was there: “make yourself a cup of tea or coffee and drop some money in the box”. No biscuits. None of the scones I had been fantasising about, and certainly no bacon butty. Feeling deflated I only stopped long enough to down a small cup of tea, before pushing on down that last road-thrash to Braemar. How I hate that stretch. I am always tired out and looking forward to stopping when I do that section. Enough moaning. Suffice to say, I was on my last legs when I got into town – and delighted to see ‘my beloved’ walking towards me! I don’t remember much else then except struggling to get my legs in gear to climb up the drive to the door at the Youth Hostel, and the blessed relief of having made it at last.

Rest Day, Saturday May 18th 2013
Not much to report – taking it easy all day. We went for a run in the car during the morning, then a little walk with Ron at Linn of Dee where he took this picture. I have always had an afinity for this place, as my name is Lindy...


We went for some excellent scones at a cafĂ© in Braemar, where we sat and chatted with Gayle, Mick and others before returning to the youth hostel. It started to rain hard around lunchtime, so I was very glad to be indoors. The staff at the hostel are lovely – they really look after Challengers. Ron was doing a great job of looking after me too. I did lots of eating, snoozing and reading, generally sorted out my kit and got ready to go again. Perfect for a rest day.







TGO Challenge 2013, part one, Shiel Bridge to Kingussie

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.

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 cafĂ© 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!