TGO Challenge 2016
Shiel Bridge to Montrose
Thursday 12th May 2016
Getting to the start of the
Challenge this year had been ‘different’, with a special family holiday in Skye
as a ‘warm-up’. Travelling up to Scotland at the beginning of May I had no
confidence in weather forecasts and had brought both winter and summer gear with
me. However a heatwave (until you stepped into the shade) in Skye, plus avid
poring over every forecast I could access on the internet decided me. Ditching
the heavy winter weight sleeping bag, long sleeved merino top and Kahtoola
microspikes (and my heavier Osprey 70l pack too) I would wear summer trousers
and short sleeved Merino top and Rab Vapour-rise jacket. Carrying my tiny
summer sleeping bag meant the lighter Montane Grand Tour 55 pack – but I
couldn’t get away from the feeling that I would need my heavyweight Paramo
waterproofs. In other words, I had to be able to cope with the unusual heat,
but knew nasty weather could descend at any time – as per usual on the
Challenge. Knowing my summer sleeping bag would not cope with frosty conditions
I also packed my down trousers, bothy slippers and jacket as a lightweight luxury.
After saying goodbye to the family
when they dropped me in Shiel Bridge I booked into the bunkhouse at the Kintail
Lodge and began the delightful task of chatting to as many Challengers as
possible on my crossing. I met up with some old acquaintances including John
Jocys, Iain Sinclair and Russ Manion and some people I had not met previously.
I went for a stroll to stretch my
legs and to dip my toes in the west coast water, in the time-honoured manner of
Challengers, then set about the task of eating a hearty pre-challenge meal in
the bar. Of course this also entailed lots of interesting chat with
Challengers, principally first timer Sabine Zawadzki from Germany and Mike and
Marian Parsons from Patterdale. Determined not to have too late a night, so I
could be up bright and early in the morning, I went back to the bunkhouse and
duly put my ear-plugs in preparation for a noisy night of snores!
Friday 13th May.
As usual I woke early and was
quick to unplug my ears. Yes. Right decision. It may be a tad uncomfortable
blocking up your ears for the night, but when it comes to communal sleeping
they are a must!
Hoping the ‘Friday 13th’
start date was not an omen of things to come, I crept out of the bunkhouse
leaving the snorers to their sleep. Too early to sign out and too early for
another ‘stoking up’ meal in the hotel, I strolled again, met a few other early risers, and practised the art
of Challenge talk. You may have only just met, or have met briefly three years
ago one wet and windy afternoon, or have spent half a day one year trolling
down some path with someone, but if you are a Challenger you have common ground
(my husband would say a common obsession… ) and the conversation just flows.
Places you have been. Gear. Places you are going. Gear. Weather conditions.
Gear. Injuries you or others have had and/or are recovering from. Gear.
Animals, birds, flowers and trees. Gear.
Lovely!
At last the time arrived for
breakfast and we Challengers descended on the dining room like a flock of
hungry seagulls, intent on gobbling up as many calories as possible, knowing
this was the last ‘real’ food for days. Stuffed to the gills I paid my bill,
collected my pack and went to sign out.
Off at last. Months of
anticipation and planning. With fingers mentally crossed I was determined to
take it gently, as this first day saw my pack at its heaviest on the whole
crossing. I had a full load of food for as far as Fort Augustus (where there is
a decent shop), gas (to get me to Newtonmore where my husband was dropping a
parcel off for me on his way home from holiday in Skye with more food, gas,
maps and knickers), and all the associated consumable bits and pieces like
medicines, wet-wipes and first aid, that would reduce as I went. I had parcels
organised for two points and would occasionally pass shops, but I had worked
out the logistics to the nth degree
this year, and was determined to carry nothing unnecessary.
The stroll up past Morvich and
through Gleann Lichd was lovely, but the wind was getting up.
I thought back to previous trips
up this Glen, including one which ended in a huge storm. Fingers crossed turned
into quiet prayers. “Please, please don’t send a storm – at least not today.
Let me get into the swing of things before the weather hits.”
Stopping by the Edinburgh
University climbing hut (Glenlicht House) it was interesting to note that they
have piped a feed off a stream so there is a constant water supply into an old
sink, just outside the hut. I stopped there tucked in against the building to get
out of the wind. Various other Challengers were doing the same, while some were
tucked into the nearby ruins.
The terrain changed beyond the
hut, with the first climb of this year’s route. I hate climbing with a
backpack. I love walking through valleys. I love yomping over moorland. Even
bog-hopping has its excitements, but climbing with a big, heavy pack is just
sheer hard drudgery, only relieved by pretty things to see. Crossing the
bridges and looking back I was surprised by how quickly the hut had turned into
a miniature feature in the wider landscape
The waterfalls here never fail to
impress me, although this was the least water I have ever seen in them
I thought back to Easter 2013
when the water had spouted out amongst an art-work of ice and when I had had
‘interesting times’ playing in my microspikes on icy sections of this steep
path.
The sun came out again, and I
stopped for a delightful ‘picnic’ lunch near a stream. First opportunity to air
my feet on this Challenge. Treats! Slathering my feet in more 'Gehwol Extra' foot
cream I carefully re-encased my feet in wooly socks and boots and set off again. My determination to
look after myself, to get the pace right, and to get across ‘unbroken’ this
year was uppermost in my mind as I continued to plod upwards.
Reaching the top of the climb I
began to enjoy myself much more as I headed out to Camban Bothy, determined to
stop there to brew up a cup of tea. In
previous years I have headed inside to make my brew, but with the sun in
evidence I stayed outside and had a much needed brew. By now I was feeling the
weight of my pack, and glad that I had decided to book a night at Alltbeithe
youth hostel, rather than have my first wild camp. I was also determined to
walk my own challenge, at my own pace, even if that may be snail pace. I was
not going to rush on with other people, just for the sake of keeping up with
them. From previous years I knew that was a recipe for trouble. My plan was to
keep my feet intact, my knees as pain-free as possible, and to enjoy as much as
I could.
Suitably refreshed and having
sought a quiet location for a bit of grass watering (tea does that…) I pushed
on to Allbeithe. It amuses me that the hostel is known as 'Glen Affric hostel',
yet is on the maps as Alltbethe. Anglicisation? It must puzzle some people who
don’t know the area.
The warden gave me a lovely
welcome with tea and scones – and the place was abuzz with challengers.
Russ
Manion had had a painful fall on the latter part of his walk-in, and arrived
dripping blood from his nose. He had a nasty 'face-plant' due to a rock moving under his
foot. Poor Russ had lots of scrapes and bangs on his face, and had hurt his arm
too. Tony Hewitt helped patch him up. There is something about this route. It
looks so benign, yet my own last visit here on the Challenge in May 2013 was
similar. I fell myself on the climb. I arrived at the hostel with a huge bruise on my
forehead, having slipped on wet slabs of rock. I looked like cyclops for days!
The evening passed in a daze of eating, sorting my pack for the morning and
chatting, before I plugged my ears and went off to the land of nod in the ‘back
shed’, the second dormitory hut. The only downside to this hostel is having to
walk across from the back hut to the front one to visit the loo in the middle
of the night.
Saturday 14th May 2016
Day two dawned, frosty and
beautiful. After a quick breakfast I was away. The familiar track up Glen
Affric beckoned, and I trotted contentedly on my way, taking in the views and
occasionally capturing them with a photo.
The sky was occasionally cloudy,
but blue predominated, and the breeze was gentle. It was warm. This was my
fifth Challenge crossing – and the first where the weather has been so warm at
the beginning.
Shortly before lunch I turned
onto unfamiliar territory, up Allt Garbh and towards Cougie.
It was interesting to note that
the map shows the path on the west bank, when in fact it runs up the east bank
of the stream. At NH183212 there is a fence-line. I stopped in the trees here
to have lunch and air my feet. Various other challengers passed, stopping for a
chat. I watched them climb the hill a little then step across the fence-line.
Re-booted, I followed, soon finding a spot where it had fallen down, and it was
easy to step across. I took a photo looking back down the hill to where I had
stopped for lunch to remind myself of
the location.
The tramp to Cougie was
delightful with lots of interesting things to see.
At one point I passed a party of
young men (Scouts?) who were doing some form of bike-packing. They had bike trailers
loaded with heavy looking, huge waterproof sacs behind their bikes. They were
obviously having a struggle on a rough section of the track, but seemed to be
enjoying themselves enormously.
Finally I got to Cougie.
The Pocock family have built an interesting place here, off the grid, that really ought to be visited. Their welcome for Challengers
is huge, and the home cooking is a treat. I thoroughly enjoyed my evening here.
Other people in the bunkhouse
included Ian Sinclair, Mike Gillespie (doing his 10th Crossing) and
his party Dave Perry and Michael Hossack plus Nik Lawcock from Nottingham.
Mike’s party were full of hilarity, and we had a lovely evening of laughter,
especially once we got the stove going in the bunkhouse. Everyone was given
nicknames. Mine was ‘Sparkle toes’ because I was wearing my sandals and
everyone could see the glittery nail varnish on my toes!
Later, awaking in the middle of
the night, when everyone else was asleep, I was very aware of the clear night
sky, and the brilliant, nearly full moon hanging over the valley. What a setting.
Sunday 15th May.
Another lovely day seemed to be
on the cards as I found my way to the farmhouse kitchen for a hearty breakfast.
As well as the farm animals and horses everywhere, there was an abundance of
very tame birdlife.
My original plan had been to walk
down to Hilton Lodge then back up and over a track to Torgyle Bridge. Iain
Pocock suggested an alternative route, pretty much south over the hill behind
the farm, with a traverse across the watershed to woodland at NH260157. I
decided, since it had been dry for so long, to give this route a go, as it
would cut a number of miles out of my day. It looked do-able. Underpinning this
was the thought that maybe I could get to Fort Augustus and then do the
Corrieyairack Pass ahead of schedule and get to Newtonmore in time to have a
half-day off before my marathon long walk to Glenmore.
I have to say that if this had
been a wet, stormy day this would have been a FOUL route, but in the dry it was
not bad. The climb up from Cougie, although steep, was not bad, and conditions
on the top were benign. Dry sphagnum moss!!! It was years since I had seen
anything like it. Walking a compass bearing across the peat hags was a bit
tiresome, but soon I was down at the corner of the woodland, anticipating a
nice walk down a path to the river in Glen Moriston. I had navigated exactly to the point where I wanted to be.
Delighted with my navigation, I sought the path. What path?
All I could find was a greasy brilliant green smear heading towards wind-felled
trees. Regrouping, I decided to follow the outer margin of the woodland, down a
steep, often boggy hillside, sandwiched between trees and a deer fence. It has
to be said this was not a high-point in my day, but it was Challenging. It
could be said that it was horrible! I seemed to take hours slipping and sliding
my way down that hill, getting more and more cross as I went.
Eventually I found a little spot
where I was able to stop and take water from a small stream, to brew up, have a
cup of tea and air my feet. Somewhat soothed I pressed on down the tiresome
descent, eventually coming out on the roadway north of River Moriston just to
the west of Balnacarn. By now it was late afternoon, and all thoughts of
getting ahead of schedule by cutting several miles out of my day had vanished
into the ether. I was going to have to push on to get to Torgyle Bridge, let
alone get ahead of myself.
I picked up the pace and fairly
yomped down the road, which had virtually no traffic on it. As I got to Torgyle
Bridge I decided to push on up the military road as far as I could get towards
Fort Augustus, despite the fact that it was late. The weather was settled and
light would be good until late, so I walked on.
Coming to the ford at NH324109 I
realised that this would be a lovely place to spend the night. Pitching the
Zephyrus was a little challenging – only 2 pegs would go in, the ground at the
riverside was so stony, so I weighed everything else down with rocks from the
river, had a quick meal and went to bed hoping that the wind would stay light
overnight!
Monday 16th May
Another sunny day!
An early start
had me in Fort Augustus late morning. I ‘paid a visit’ at the public
loo and noticed there was a mother and baby room. Chatting to the attendant I
asked if it would be possible to go in there so I could have a wash? I was
delighted when this came to pass. You would not believe the pleasure of being
able to wash your hair in a hand-basin, using the squirty handwash stuff
instead of shampoo, when you have spent a few sunny days in the hills wearing a
Tilly hat!
Next I visited the Londis shop
where I stoked up on necessary provisions both for a nice lunch today and to
get me to Newtonmore. I took myself to sit by the canal locks, and put my
sandals on instead of my boots. Sitting by the canal, watching the walkers on
the Caledonian Canal with their tiny little bags (presumably they use a bag-moving
service for their main baggage) I felt a bit smug. I was doing it the hard way. The real way. I wasn’t
in a hurry to get going again though! I sat a bit longer and saw various
parties of tourist gome through, speaking French, Italian and other languages I
couldn’t identify. Then some more interesting people: three cyclists who, from
what I overheard of their conversation and gear, were cycling from John
O’Groats to Lands End. By this point my feet had cooled down, my lunch was
eaten and it was time to move on.
It felt very hot as I left Fort
Augustus, heading towards the Corrieyairack. I passed the castle at the bottom
of the pass, thinking how it has been done up since I first went past there.
Shortly after this I encountered
a herd of cows and their calves who were gathered, making rather a lot of noise
by a gate in the fence. I wondered if they were waiting to go for milking, as
they were so vocal. My first instinct was to stay back from them as cows with
calves are notoriously unpredictable, and can be dangerous. These besties had
wicked looking horns. However, as I waited for them, chilling in the breeze, I
realised they were just going to stay put there, by the gate, and that was my
only route forwards. There were a few other cattle in the next field, but they
didn’t seem to be talking to this bunch at all. What was I to do?
After mulling this for a while I
decided I had to move through them, but needed to let them know I was no threat.
I started talking quietly, moving very, very slowly around first one, then another
cow, keeping away from their babies as well as I could. Aware of me, but not
jumpy, they eased a passage through for me, and eventually, with my heart
racing I got as far as the gate. I drew back the bolt and slipped through.
Out of the frying pan, into the
fire. The beasts in the next field were all male. One of them was a massive
bull! The cows hadn’t been calling out because they wanted milking. They were
calling out to their boyfriends! Oh heck! Very quietly I moved along the
trackway, heart in mouth, while the huge bull continued to graze nonchalantly.
Step by step I passed him, easing my way further and further away. Eventually I
heaved a sigh of relief, judging that I had come far enough up the track to be
out of his range. Oh well, I thought, it is indeed aptly named a ‘Challenge’.
I stopped for something to eat by
the stream below the first set of zigzags on the Corrieyairack Pass. Here, I
was joined by Nik Lawcock, who had also been at the bunkhouse in
Cougie.
I began to climb seriously up
the zig zags below Creag Dhubh. I have never enjoyed climbing hard – and must
say that next section was horrible in the heat. There is, however a sort of
‘top’, where it evens out for a while, and I reached that gratefully! I trotted
along the next section wondering how many people would be at Blackburn Bothy.
Last time I was there a couple of tents had been outside and two of us (Maggie
Hems & me) inside. I was hoping it wasn’t too crowded at the bothy, as it is
nice to be able to cook and move about without having to sit on the floor in
your tent!
Finally the roof of the bothy
popped out from behind the hill and I knew I was there at last. I was
incredibly tired, which I put down to the heat of the day.
Amazingly, there was no-one else
there. I went to gather water and got the stove on. Nik arrived shortly after,
and we decided that unless anyone else turned up, and it became advantageous to
camp outside, we would stay indoors for the night. She set herself up on one
side of the bothy, and I had the other. We chattered away while we made our
respective evening meals, then settled down fairly early to sleep.
Tuesday 17th May
I felt dreadful when I woke up.
Dragging myself up I forced breakfast down. I have never had trouble eating my
porridge/fruit/seed/dried milk mix before, but I had to make myself eat this
morning. It occurred to me that I may be dehydrated after the last couple of
days. Nik set off, and still I was not ready. I had been out to use the bothy
spade – and out again, and my stomach was heaving and flipping. I felt really
ill, and wondered what was happening to me.
I dug into my pack. Found my 1st
aid kit. Found Imodium Instants. Took two. Did a stock check. Did I have enough Immodium
to get to Newtonmore? Possibly. How much loo roll did I have? Clean knickers?
Plastic bags? I sat there seriously weighing up my state of health. I was 350
metres up the north side of Corrieyairack Pass with another 450 metres to
climb, followed by a descent of 450m in the six and a half miles to Melgarve
Bothy with a further 50m and 3 miles to where I would camp at Garva Bridge.
Could I make that under my own steam? And Newtonmore was about fourteen and a
half miles beyond that.
As I sat there, with the Imodium
in my hand I thought about going back to Fort Augustus. Thought about pulling out of the
Challenge. I remembered lying sick in my bed last year when a bug hit
profoundly. Was I going to get that ill? But, I thought, I have not thrown up.
This is just gut churn. Is it as a result of all the stresses I have put my
body through, with the heat thrown in, and dehydration. Is it adrenaline
causing me to empty out? I had some more to drink. I sat a little longer, and
the Imodium I had taken seemed to calm things down. Finally I decided to get
going – forwards to Newtonmore not back to Fort Augustus. I would see what
would happen.
There was no miracle recovery. I
struggled up and over the pass. I remember little, other than the fact that all
the work crews who had been building the new powerline last time I came through here (two years ago) were now gone, that some
of the roadway up at the highest heights seems to have been returned to the
hill. I wondered how many years the raw scars will take to heal.
The old powerline has been removed, so the line shown on the maps is no longer there, which is a little confusing. (The new line is on the opposite side of the track than the old one was.)
With my guts all a-churn I ate
little, which may have made me feel worse still, as I was expending so much
energy climbing and later descending the track to cross the pass, which was not in a
good state of repair. I worried that the loose stones would slip, and that my
knee would give way. The weather was obviously changing, but it was clear into
the distance, and I was able to see the trees near Melgarve bothy from a long way
out. I kept moving, determined to make it, at least that far. I wanted a cup of
tea SO badly. I wanted to get out of the wind, in the bothy, where I could brew
up. I kept thinking about that cup of tea – it was as if it was a magical elixir…
Finally I got there and hauled myself through the door, dropped my pack and got
out my kitchen kit. Collecting water by the bridge I remembered 2012, when I
had come off the Corrieyairack during the viscious 'Storm Sunday', arriving like a drowned
rat here at Melgarve, and how being able to shelter, eat and sleep here had
probably saved my life. Today had been nowhere as bad, with the challenge
coming from within my body rather than from the weather. I had beaten it, I
felt, and would survive to go on.
Tea has magical powers. Don’t let
anyone tell you otherwise.
Eventually, I felt strong enough
to pack up and walk on down to Garva Bridge. I threw up my tent, grabbed
something to eat and fell asleep half in, half out of my tent. A little later
Colin Reid woke me with magical words. Ian Shiel was parked across the way in
his campervan and had invited us over for soup. Wonderful! Somewhat wobbily, I
joined the grateful gang of Challengers and was fed lovely soup. Sleep had not left me
however, and I struggled to keep my eyes open at the table. Embarrassingly I
eventually had to excuse myself, knowing I was about to crash out again. Before
long, I was dead to the world.
Wednesday 18th May
I slept long and hard. When I
woke up and took stock I could tell the worst had passed. It was wet and murky
out. I had to cook in the tent to make breakfast, then struck the tent wet, and
set off on the long trail down the road to Laggan. Every time I do that section
of road-walking it seems longer. Rain doesn’t help – although the delightful
company of William Burton did ease the passage of the miles. To my joy, the
shop in Laggan was open, and was serving food. Icecream seemed in order –
lovely lemon and blueberry icecream! And a big pot of tea. I can’t say I was back
on form, but I was feeling fairly human again by now. I wasn’t going to take
any chances however, and opted to take the road walk to Newtonmore, rather than
going up Glen Banchor. I still had the need for as early an arrival at the
hostel in Newtonmore as possible, so I could rest, eat and sleep in preparation
for my huge walk up to Glenmore tomorrow.
The walk into Newtonmore became a
one-foot-in-front-of-the-other plod as I got closer and closer to my objective,
but I kept the delights of tea and cake, a shower, then clean knickers from my
parcel and a stonking meal at the Glen Hotel at the forefront of my mind every
time I wanted to stop.
Finally I made it. The rain had stopped and I pitched my
tent on the lawn of the hostel to dry out. In the wind it didn’t take long. While it was
drying I re-organised my kit to incorporate the contents of my parcel, packed
one up for posting home and went to the Co-op for a new supply of Imodium and
one or two other bits I needed. Then it felt like it was time to eat.
It’s amazing - the restorative
power of a plate of fish and chips!
Having eaten, I felt quite bouncy
and was able to fully partake of the Challenger atmosphere at the hostel,
admiring various tents and shelters pitched on the lawn and engaging in yet
more Challenger chats until it was time for an early night.
Thursday 19th May 2016
My alarm went off at 4.30am, and
after breakfast and a quick tidy up I was off on the most daunting of days. My
plan was to cover 22 miles with 568 metres of climbing – a HUGE distance for me to
cover with a pack. I had shaved the weight off as much as possible with this in
mind, carrying minimal food and water, relying on being able to get meals at
the SYHA Cairngorm Lodge where I was planning to stay overnight in Glenmore,
above Aviemore.
The route up to Kingussie, past
Ruthven Barracks and out to Tromie Bridge was familiar. Then I turned north,
and, sticking to the road, which was fairly quiet, made good time through
Inveruglas, past Insh and up to Feshiebridge.
My original plan had me cutting
through the forest tracks, but I was making good time on the road, my feet were
holding up quite well, and traffic was light, so I stuck on the tarmac,
plodding away rather mechanically. I have to admit to detaching my brain from
what was going on around me – my sole focus was on getting the miles done. My
only real memory of the day was having a very welcome tea and cake stop at ‘The
Potting Shed’ tearoom at Inshrach Nursery. The sign (below) was ever so welcome
mid-way through the afternoon.
Photo from the Inshrach Nursery website
Passing through Inverdruie and
then Coylumbridge I picked up the Old
Logging Way – which is the new cycle track I have watched them building over
recent years between Aviemore and Glenmore. Off tarmac at last I was determined
to get to the hostel in time for a meal, and kept pushing, although I was close
to exhaustion by now.
I was so proud of myself when I
got up to the hostel! I have never walked this far in one day carrying a backpack,
though I have come close with a daysack. The sense of relief was immense as I
dragged myself the last few steps up into reception, took off my boots and
checked in.
I had made acquaintance with
Chris Nunn earlier in the day, and was pleased to find a fellow Challenger at
the hostel so I had someone to chat with over dinner. Soon after that I sorted
my gear for morning, put my ear plugs in and fell into a deep, well-earned
sleep.
Friday 20th May 2016
The weather forecast was not
good. High winds and rain were expected, and I knew I was going to be climbing
a significant amount today. My plan was for 18miles with 906m of climb (and
743m of descent), so another tough day was ahead of me.
I ate as much breakfast as I
could without bursting, and set off as soon as I was able. To begin with the
day seemed benign. I worked my way up past Glenmore Lodge and into the forest
beyond, up to Lochan Uaine. Memories of visiting here with my husband a few
years ago came back to me, and I wondered again about the extraordinary green
colour of the water in the loch.
Not far beyond here I paused at
the junction of tracks to take off my jacket, as I was so warm. A couple of
other walkers came past and I stood chatting with them for a few minutes. In
that short time the weather changed, wind getting up and rain threatening – so
my Paramo jacket came out of my pack instead of the Vapour-rise I had just
taken off.
Climbing gently I got to the
Strath Nethy at around about the same time as a party of school-kids, enthusiastically
trekking up the path in their bright blue uniform sweatshirts. I was thinking
how much energy they had, - and hoping they had good waterproofs in their
miniscule packs, whilst wishing I could ‘get going’ myself today. I was
grinding upwards, feeling the wind buffeting me increasingly as I climbed. I
could see the path ahead was clearly picked out on the hill, so guessed it was
well-trodden.
From the crossing of Strath Nethy
at 430m I had to climb a mile and a half up the path onto the shoulder of
Bynack Moŕe at 790m. The wind continued to rise and squalls of sleety rain kept
blasting through, sometimes knocking me off balance. It was thoroughly
unpleasant, and I just wanted the climb to be over. I was going slowly – very much
more slowly than usual, fighting with the wind as it came roaring over from
Cairngorm.
It took me all morning to get up
onto the shoulder of Bynack Moŕe and to drop down the other side to the
crossing of Coire Odhar. Uppermost in my mind as I came off the top was “what
would my route be for the latter part of the day?” My plan was to traverse
across open country to Faindouran Lodge via Carn Dubh. The alternative was walk
to some three and a half miles further than the traverse, continuing down to
the Fords of Avon and then following the path round to Faindouran Lodge.
Potentially it would be on a path that would be easier to walk. What should I
do?
By the time I crossed the river I
needed my lunch badly. I had used masses of energy fighting against the wind,
as well as climbing, and I was wobbily and feeling sorry for myself. I found a
place to perch myself and had a break, but didn’t take off my boots as it was
wet everywhere. I continued to weigh up the options for the next section of the
route. One minute I was going to head off for Fords of Avon, the next risk the
traverse. Whilst I ate lunch and rested the sun came out.
Food is fuel. When I am stretched
to the limit I grind down, and not only do I feel my muscles working less
efficiently, but my brain seizes up too. I think runners call it ‘hitting the
wall’. I had reached that point as I came of the shoulder of Bynack Moŕe and
down to the crossing of Coire Odhar. Sitting quietly, eating lunch and resting, the sun came out again and my brain came back on line. I started to feel that I could
function again. I would do the traverse.
I set off up the path from the river crossing carefully counting paces to work out distance. At the point where I
thought it was time to start the traverse I got out my GPS to check position,
then took a first compass bearing. I spotted a huge boulder on the horizon in
the direction of where to walk, and set off across the rough ground, counting
paces again. It was very rough, with weather blasted tussocks interspersed with
patches of scoured peat, and in places bare rocks. I came to a lochan.
Reaching the end of my paced leg
brought me close to the huge boulder. I wondered if the original track across
the open ground which I had been given by another Challenger had also used this
as a waypoint? Working out my next bearing I found I was looking at another
huge boulder in the distance. This firmed up my idea, as keeping an eye open
for the rock made it easier to stay online with the bearing across the peat
hags that were developing.
Whilst I climbed my way around
the worst of the boggy bits and hopped from tussocky bit to tussocky bit I
spotted not one, but two tiny lizards. I have always been fascinated by
these tiny, beautiful creatures and to be able to stop on two occasions in a
short space of time to see such wonders really raised my spirits. It is so rare
for me to catch sight of one.
My pacing got a bit ‘freestyle’ with
these distractions, but as by now I had decided the second boulder was the
objective of the second leg, I made directly for it and took a GPS reading. Not
far off! I took a bearing on the bealach I could see and compared it to the
line I had drawn on my map. They matched. Amazing! What is more, there was a convenient patch of snow to catch my eye on the line I was heading for.
I knew there was a significant
stream ahead, the ‘Glasath’. Not having been here before, and not being able to
see it yet I was rather nervous about what the drop down into the valley would
be like, and what the crossing would entail. I could see the top of the
valley-cut ahead, but nothing more. Tension mounted as I got closer and closer
and still could see nothing. Getting closer I realised that my snow patch was
sitting at the top of the stream I was due to follow into the Bealach.
Eventually I got to the lip of
the very pronounced incised valley and looked down with relief. No problem.
There were several places I could descend and the stream itself was low, so I
hopped across with my boots on.
Clambering up the stream to the
patch of snow I was elated. The question mark that had been in my head for so
long about this traverse was almost solved, and I had dealt with it easily. I
was almost skipping as I went over the top and started to drop down to
Faindouran Lodge. Adrenaline does funny things to you!
Getting to the bothy was not the
end of my day however. I was due to get to Ballater by the end of Saturday, and if I
stopped at the bothy I would have too far to go the next day. I HAD to push on down the
valley. The slow progress I had made during the morning had pushed me
hours behind schedule. I had originally thought that I would arrive at Faindouran
Lodge by mid afternoon. In actual fact it was nearly 6pm when I got there. Considering
my options as I dropped down to the bothy I decided to have my evening meal
there, but then to push on down the valley as far as I could get while it was
light.
Various people had told me how
difficult it was to find suitable pitches down this valley, so it was with some
trepidation that I set off again, determined to put some more miles away before
stopping for the night. I covered about three more miles when it started to
rain. By now I was really tired and rather fed-up. Spotting a tiny patch of
green close to the path I set up my tent, clambered down to the river to
collect water, had some supper and crashed out for the night.
Saturday 21st May 2016
Waking early I knew I could not hang around at all today as I had a room booked in Ballater, and I was miles
higher up the valley than I should have been. Cloud hung low on the hills,
threatening more nasty weather as I set off. The track along Glen Avon was,
however, mainly very ‘walkable’ being well maintained by the estate. In some
places the surface was loose, but it was generally well consolidated. There were a
few significant climbs, such as below Cnap Allt an Laoigh where a new deer
fence has closed off access to the lower track.
Here it is necessary to climb up
the higher track marked on the map,but the track was OK underfoot. I set up
quite a good rhythm and made good time down to the Linn of Avon.
Near the junction I bumped into
Chris Nunn again. He had pitched here for the night. For future reference,
there are lots of good pitches around here. Turning southwards, I now entered
Glen Builg. The weather was deteriorating, wind howling up and squalls
rattling through. It got wetter and wetter underfoot, and eventually I got to a
river crossing that was too deep to manage with my boots on. I had seen other
Challengers cross in trail shoes, but I still had dry boots and socks, and had kept
them that way all the way across Scotland so far. It didn’t take me long to decide to take
my boots off and cross in sandals.
OH MY WORD it was cold. Screaming
involuntarily with the pain, I exited the water and walked on till I found
somewhere to sit and sort my feet out.
Shortly after this I encountered
a party of Geordie mountain bikers coming the other way. I asked them if there
were any more high rivers to ford. They said no, but that it was very boggy
ahead. They were right. It was very wet underfoot – and squalls kept flailing
me from above. Sometimes they were so intense that the only thing you could do
was turn your back and wait for the worst to pass. The mile or so alongside the
loch was ‘difficult’ to manage. On a calm dry day it is probably a delight to
walk. On this occasion I could not wait to get out of there.
Reaching the head of the loch
there is a funny area of broken ground interspersed by a number of lochans.
Parked by one of them was a grey Ford Focus. A man was fishing – and his friend
sat in the shelter of the car eating a pork pie. I stopped briefly to chat with
him through the car window, then headed on down towards Ballater. I had in mind
to stop at the bothy marked on the map at Corndavon Lodge to brew up some tea,
but it was closed up. In the end I got in close to the buildings to get out of
the wind a bit for a rest and something to eat, but didn’t brew up since I wasn’t
really sheltered.
I trotted on down the valley. Now
I was just trying to cover ground as fast as possible, but the day wore on and
still I had miles and miles to go. This was always going to be a long day, but it began
to feel impossible. I didn’t want the hotel to be worried about my late
arrival. By my reckoning, at the rate I was going, it would take me till 9pm to
get into Ballater.
Mulling over what to do I saw a
telephone symbol on the map near Gairnshiel Lodge. I would head there and ring
the hotel, then see what I could do. I headed for that location.
There is something
heart-stoppingly-awful about finding a phone box with no phone. I wanted to
cry. For ages I had in my mind the thought that I could let the hotel know when
I got to the phone, and that then everything would be alright.
I saw a house nearby with an open
door., Perhaps they had a phone. Tentatively, I went through the gate, up to
the house and knocked on the door. Shouted hellos. No answer. No sound of life.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, I turned back to the road and walked away. I walked
on a bit more, turning into Glen Gairn. My mobile phone came to life! At last I
was able to ring the hotel.
Very ashamed, I asked them if
they could organise me a taxi. (I had pushed myself to the limit again and had
very little left for another couple of hours of walking. Tomorrow was a planned
rest day, so if I did get a lift to Ballater, then I could come back up here and complete
the walk I should do now.) The kind lady on reception said she would try, and
that she would ring me back. Fingers crossed, I waited for her call. When it
came, there was disappointment. There was only one taxi available and he was
working on a wedding, so no, I couldn’t get a lift. The lady then suggested
something I had never, ever done – to “flag someone down and ask for a lift”.
It had never entered my mind to hitch. I thanked her and said I would get there
whenever I could.
I set off walking, accepting the
idea that I wouldn’t get there till about nine o’clock, and that there would be
no nice meal for me tonight. Several cars passed, and I did stick out my thumb,
but no-one slowed down. I toddled on, getting down to Torbeg. Just coming out
of the trees there I tried my thumb again – and this time my luck was in. A
kind local in a Range Rover picked me up and ran me right down into Ballater.
Getting to the hotel was such a
relief. I was there in time to eat in the bar, and joy of joys, my room had a
BATH!
Sunday 22nd May 2016
Scheduled as my rest day, after
breakfast and a quick visit to the Co-op for food to take for lunch, I set off back up the glen to cover the ground
I had missed by hitching a lift last night.
Arriving back in Ballater at around
lunchtime I strolled along the old line walk near the river and ate a picnic in
the woods.
Returning to the village I
strolled around the stalls which has been set up on the green by the church for the village's annual ‘Duck
Race day’ and watched the Pipe Band perform, – until a thunderstorm led to me
racing for cover. It didn't take much effort deciding what to do instead: I had an afternoon snooze.
The evening passed in a typically
Challenge manner with food, beverages and chat about gear, the afternoon’s
rain, gear, where we had been, gear, various injuries people had suffered or
were suffering, gear, the places we were going to go to, gear, interesting
things we had seen and heard, gear, wildlife encountered, gear…. Suffice to say
that the company was affable at The Alexandra Hotel that night!
Monday 23rd May
A rib-sticking breakfast set me
up well for the day, and after checking out I set off again, enjoying walking
out from Ballater and through the woods.
Stopping for lunch by an iron
gate left standing in the middle of no-where, I was really able to enjoy the
view of the hills. It felt good to be alive.
Unfortunately, I then took my eye
off the ball. After lunch I did not check my position or my bearing before
dropping down to the Shiel of Glantanar. For the next few hours, I trundled on
my merry way, which seemed to be proceeding according to plan.
At about four o’clock I realised
that the rather unpleasant track I was climbing, was heading in
completely the wrong direction. Rapidly coming out of my daydream I did some
proper navigation for the first time that day and ascertained my position and
the huge error I had made. I had actually climbed not up the Mounth Road, in a
southerly direction towards Mount Keen, but had come off the hill into the
Shiel of Glentanar in completely the wrong place, then gone east up the track
past Red Craig and Black Craig.
Suffice it to say I was cross
with myself.
I decided I had two options.
First was to keep the height I had attained under great duress, and work my way
around past Gathering Cairn and Cock Cairn to the Mounth Road. I was very
dubious about this option as I was unfamiliar with the ground and the weather
was deteriorating rapidly. My second option was to descend and get myself onto
the correct route. The delay in doing so would mean I could not make my
original finish time of Wednesday unless I killed myself for the next couple of
days. I realised that as I was not committed to being in Montrose until Thursday, I
could adjust my plans and still finish without too much grief. I sat down
for a little while and ate a crunch bar, weighing up the options. If it had
been fine weather I may have been more inclined to risk the first option, but
the wind was getting up and things looked quite threatening, weather wise.
Sadly, I decided to drop back down (losing all the height that I had clawed
myself up earlier on that horrible path) and repositioning myself in the
CORRECT place, ready for a prompt start in the morning. Then, instead of going
just to Queens Well, my original objective for the night, I would walk to
Tarfside. The benefit then was that I could visit St Drostans, enjoy the
company of a lot of like minded Challengers, and thence take the
Edzell-Northwater Bridge route out to the sea on Wednesday and Thursday.
As I ate my snack I had time look
down into the valley to work out exactly where I was aiming. I started to look for possible pitching spots. Suddenly, I realised I could see what may be people
moving about on a nice looking green space way in the distance. Could it be…? I got out my
monocular and had a good look. Yes! There were a number of Challengers, and flock of tiny tents already pitched, just where I was thinking of going.
That made up my mind. I WOULD
descend, spend the night here and regroup. Tomorrow I would aim for Tarfside,
and inform Challenge Control of my change of plan. A disaster to begin with,
but I really liked the idea of spending the last few days surrounded by other
Challengers. With that thought I set off downhill.
It is amazing how much more
quickly you descend a hill than you climb it. By about half past five I had got
down to the grassy area near the bridge and told my story to those who were
there. No-one laughed at me (at least not to my face) about my stupidity, and
several had stories of their own navigational slips to share. Soon I had my
tent up and a meal inside me.
I was just settling down for the
night when Alistair Pooler came up to tell me excitedly that he had been down
by the river and seen an otter. What a fabulous thing for him to see. We are so
lucky to be so close to nature while doing the Challenge. My high spot had been
the two lizards on Friday, but an otter – WOW! With that thought I slept, and
slept very soundly indeed.
Tuesday 24th May 2016.
After quickly breakfasting and
striking camp I was very careful to check my bearings as I set off in the
morning across the bridge. I checked and double and checked that I was indeed climbing
the right hill this time! The cloud was low and everywhere was soggy, but I
soon got warm with my climb.
This route, new for me, was one
of my main objectives of this year’s crossing. All along I had been determined to get here fit enough to do this section on the Mounth Road over to Glen Mark. I had managed to keep my feet intact, no blisters, and my knees were still functioning, although creaking a bit. I didn’t have particular desire
to actually get to the summit of Mount Keen. With the cloud so low
I knew I wouldn’t see anything if I did climb all the way to the top (939m),
and was happy to take the path due south over the shoulder, topping out at
760m.
Once I got up to the top of my
climb I began to enjoy myself, with some of the early sections of descent being
particularly easy to move on. I fairly trotted my way for a good mile, before
things got steeper and steeper and steeper. Suddenly I was in the zig-zags
above Ladder Burn, stunned by the impressive way the path was gouged into the
hillside. There was quite a lot of evidence of damage from last winter’s
storms, with some particularly impressive landslip debris across the valley to
the path.
The valley there is very deeply incised.
I was lucky to be on a path (even though it was loose in places), and remembered
the struggle I had a couple of years ago when I came over from Glen Clova, coming
off the hill and heading north-west into the Shank of Inchgrundle, just south
of Loch Lee, just a few miles away. At the worst point on the zig-zag I paused
to collect myself just as a mountain bike hurtled down the path – and came off
on the corner. Luckily the rider wasn’t badly hurt, and he soon disappeared
downwards.
The transition from hill to Glen
was quite sudden, and once I got onto the estate track I was able to make good
time past Glenmark and Queens Well, my original target for the end of Monday,
I carried straight on down the
valley towards Invermark, making good time. Coming down the path to Auchronie I
was fascinated to see a small flock of strange grey birds which I later found
out were guinea fowl rooting free-range.
Passing the big house there I saw
a ‘walking bus’ of Challengers passing the end of the lane. I hurried to catch
up with them, but they were moving far too fast for me, and soon I dropped back
to my normal pace for the last section past the Hill of Rowan and into
Tarfside.
The sight of St Drostan’s Hostel
(which operates only during the Challenge thanks to dedicated members of the
Hill and Mountain Walking Club) was very welcome, and I called in for tea and
cake. To my delight, there was a bed available in one of the small rooms, and
soon I was in a shower. A communal meal in the kitchen of the hostel was
followed by a visit to The Masons, and before long I was tucked up in the land
of nod!
Wednesday 25th May
2016
Setting off bright and early I
trundled down the Esk valley, first on the road and then through the woodland
path from the Rocks of Solitude.
The last leg through the trees
close to Edzell is always beautiful, and today was no exception.
It was, however, quite
mind-boggling to see how high the flood debris was caught in the trees beside
the river. The floods last winter had been so destructive everywhere, and the
sheer amount of evidence everywhere of the power of water was awe-inspiring.
Looking at the current height of the river – and then the height of the debris
in the trees gave some concept of the massive volume of water that had been
passing down here. Stunning.
The twelve miles from Tarfside to
Edzell have become familiar over the years – but the anticipation of lunch at
the ‘Tuck Inn’ keeps the mind focused! This eatery is very popular with Challengers, as can be seen by the picture below...
After a meal which although
simple, tasted fabulous, served by the friendly staff of the Tuck Inn, I took
myself to the shop, stocked up for my last evening and the last leg to Montrose,
then set off to North Water Bridge. This walk-out is renowned in Challenger
legend as a long road walk – however by cutting round farm tracks it is much
more pleasant, and soon I reached my objective.
A party atmosphere fell on the
Challengers as the last evening drew on and we consumed the goodies people had
picked up from the shop in Edzell. As twilight approached I could feel my eyes
closing, so I soon adjourned.
Thursday 26th May 2016
My last morning dawned grey, and windy.
With some regret I struck camp
for the last time (as I was to stay in a hotel once I got to Montrose). Saying
goodbye to Challengers is never easy – but the moment was given a huge boost of
levity when Mike Gillespie (about to complete his tenth crossing and to become
a ‘Leg-end’) suddenly appeared in his kilt, and we realised his team mate Dave
Perry was likewise donning his! Much hilarity ensued, (as is often the case
when they are around).
We never did get to see the legs
of the third party member Michael Hossack, but a number of us did gather for
celebratory photographs before we left for the day as a ‘walking bus’, heading
for the coast.
I soon realised that I had walked
this way twice before, and thought I would like to see some new ground for this
last leg, so I quietly dropped out. I discovered a lovely route, turning south
at the railway bridge at Broomley. First I walked on the footpath beside the
road through North Craigo.
I stopped for a rest on a
convenient bench by the war memorial there before cutting through the woods to
Hillside on what must have been the old road.
From here it was an easy stroll
through the outskirts of Montrose and onto the sand dunes, finally arriving at
the beach near the South Links golf course. There was no-one around! The wind
was blowing strongly, and I suspect the dog-walkers had all taken shelter. The
beach was absolutely empty.
Trotting down the steps to the
beach I had to remind myself to be careful as they were greasy with seaweed. It
wouldn’t do for me to manage my whole crossing without ‘breaking’ myself, only
to slip on the last little bit!
The tide was out, and I crossed
to the water, smelling the sea and enjoying the sight of the waves breaking
roughly ahead.
Then, I stood at the water’s edge
…
… and danced about a bit in the
water…
…until I finally calmed down a
bit. I had done it again. My fifth crossing was complete.
Turning and slowly walking back
to the slippy steps I realised I was being blown off-course by the wind, it was
so strong. I had managed to walk all the way across Scotland, and now I found
crossing a little bit of beach a struggle. Strange. Eventually I clambered back
up the slippy steps and spotted a café. To celebrate, I went for a cup of
tea before making the obligatory trip to Challenge Control to sign out, and
meeting yet more old friends at The Park Hotel.
The Challenge is an obsession. It
stretches you to the limit, makes you do things you didn’t realise you could
do, taxes your physical strength and endurance, builds your resilience and
sometimes puts you in a very real position where risk is involved. But it also
brings a shared community with other Challengers, one which I have found to be
quite unique.
So. Where shall I start Challenge
number six?
