TGOC2017
Choosing a start-point for my route this year I decided to
go to the south of the Challenge area and start in Oban. I thought it would be
good to explore an area which, although I have driven through it on family
holidays, I have never walked there.
Ron accompanied me to the start, and we arrived in Oban late
on the Thursday evening. A quick stroll along the prom led to us bumping into a
few Challengers – but I was surprised by how few I saw. On reflection, this is
probably because they were camouflaged in amongst the wider population. On my
previous crossings I have been to little places – and the swell caused by
Challengers is immediately obvious. In Oban there were just too many tourists,
so apart from a small handful of known faces, Challengers blended in.
Friday 12th
May 2017
15½ miles
Signing out from the youth hostel I crossed the road along
the prom, dropped down a set of steps which were handily placed there and
dipped into the sea. Ron took pictures, then I headed off out of town.
The first part of the day saw me climb the minor road up
Glen Lonan. Pretty, but nothing remarkable. As the day wore on I realised how
dry the land was. Streams were down to trickles, or dried up completely. It
wasn’t much more than three weeks since I had been a bit further north on the
Cape Wrath Trail, where I had been contending with rivers too swollen to cross,
and had been flooded out of my camp one
evening. Obviously this area of Scotland was currently in the grip of a
drought.
It was not possible to collect water in my filter bottle –
so I was a bit concerned, but in Taynuilt luckily caught a tea-room open (about
five minutes before their closing time) where I was able to refresh myself and
buy a bottle of water.
I found my way through Bonawe and crossed the first wobbly
bridge of the Challenge then climbed up through the country Park above Inverawe
House.
I was intrigued to see what looked like the top of an
ancient tank peeking out from a patch of boggy ground. It looks like someone
has a rope ladder in place to get in and out – but I didn’t feel like
exploring.
By now I had got to that point in the day where I was
beginning to wonder about where to camp. It was fine, and warm, with quite a
stiff breeze. Although a bit tired and achy, I felt I could still walk for
miles, so headed on north-east along the track through the woods, high above
Loch Etive. I saw a couple of Challenger tents tucked down a side path, but
didn’t stop to chat. I was looking for two things: water, and a nice place to
pitch. If I could find both in the same location I would be delighted.
Some of the trees had been cleared and there was the
inevitable mess left behind. I didn’t want to camp near these ravaged
moonscapes – kept pushing on. My last water ran out, and I started to feel hot
and bothered, cross with the world. I lost height, and was approaching the loch
– but realised it would be salt water.
Suddenly I heard the trickle of water. I followed my ears
and found a miraculous pool, the deep point in a stream-bed. The water was
still running under the stones, and running fast enough for me to have
confidence in it. Out came my filter-bottle, I plunged it into the pool, then
drank deeply! Looking around I realised that the stream should run under a
little bridge in the track and beside it there was a perfect lochside pitch for
me. Without further ado I pitched for the night.
Saturday 13th
May 2017
16½ miles
I had gone to bed last night without any though of midges.
There was a stiff breeze blowing at the lochside and there was no sign of the
menace. However, by 4am the breeze had dropped and I woke up being bitten
viciously. I scrabbled for the Jungle Formula and my headnet, made a hasty
breakfast and quickly set off on my way.
All around the drought was in full swing – nowhere more
obvious than at this ford where the water was running under the concrete
roadway itself – never mind the bridge for times of flood!
My impression of the morning is rather blurred. Tracks above
and around the headlands, and views across Loch Etive, with warning signs in
the sky that the weather was on the change.
I was surprised by the number of bluebells I saw. In previous years I
was conscious of primroses and violets on the first days of the Challenge, and
did not see bluebells until I got over to the area near Tarfside. Perhaps it
was an early spring – or more likely the fact that I was walking further south,
but bluebells were in abundance.
Whenever I got under trees the midges got biting. I saw a
few Challengers, but was not in the mood for chatter.
I got very excited when I saw a slow-worm beside the
track I had seen adders many times, but
this is the first time I had seen a live slow-worm.
Glen Kinglass was impressive. As I walked up the glen the
change in the weather became much more apparent, with a ferocious wind. I found
a lovely quiet spot behind a bridge abutment to have my lunch and air my feet,
then pressed on.
The inevitable rain arrived, and I wrapped myself up and
trudged on.
My plan had been to camp in the upper reaches of the valley,
but the reality of the weather was that it was mightily exposed, and I just
didn’t fancy pitching anywhere. I had
made good time during the day, so decided to go over the watershed and seek
somewhere near Loch Dochard. I crossed another wobbly bridge …
… and pressed on.
Loch Dochard was just as inviting as upper Glen Kinglass.
The wind was strong, cloud was low, and all I wanted was to find some shelter.
I walked on. Eventually I dropped down to the crossing of the Allt Suil na
Curra, and in the trees there found relief from the wind, and a little pod of
Challengers. Too tired to do much more than say hello I got my Trailstar up,
ate and went to sleep.
Sunday 14th
May 2017
11 miles
After two long days I slept hard, and by the time I woke up
(rather late) on the third morning the other Challengers had gone.
Just before the location where I pitched camp in the trees
was a bridge across the main river. Another crossing was marked just
downstream, so rather than back-track I went for the lower one. Mistake! It
turned out to be a ford with huge boulders to use as stepping stones. I HATE
these!
Luckily the water was low, so for most of the way I was able
to cross in the water, just clambering up for a short deep section. If there
had been much water in the river I would have had to use the boulders – and
some of them were a wide stretch apart for someone carrying a heavy rucsac. I
must remember that if I ever come this way again it would be better to use the
bridge higher up the valley!
The rain came and went, and contributed to rather muddy
paths down the riverside. I was in good spirits however, having slept well, and
heading towards a short section of familiar ground from Victoria Bridge.
Arriving at Forest Lodge someone had a parasol up beside a
Range Rover, and cheekily I asked the people there if there was some kind of
celebration going on. They replied no, that it was a way station for a sponsored
walk from Kingshouse to Tyndrum. I got chatting to the people, who turned out
to be from Renfrew Rotary Club., walking to raise funds for the STOP Polio
programme.
I was very interested (as my Dad had been affected by polio
as a boy) and gave them a donation. Kindly, they gave me a cup of tea and some
‘dumpling’ – a type of heavy fruit cake. I took a photo of this kindly group.
Just as I set off again David and Margaret Brocklehurst turned up and they were
being offered refreshments too.
I wimped out and had a happy trundle down the road from
Inveroran Hotel to Bridge of Orchy, rather than going over the hill. It
was noticeable how low the water was in
Loch Tulla.
I stopped to chat to a chap who was doing a water fowl
count. He makes a count from a number of positions around Loch Tulla on a
monthly basis, and sends the data off to one of the national organisations.
At Bridge of Orchy I called in for a lovely meal and picked
up a resupply parcel.
Well fortified, I followed the West Highland Way southwards
for a short distance. With a full tummy and a full load, as a result of my
recently acquired parcel I wondered if this sign was applicable as I approached
on of the old bridges….
My objective for the day was the railway viaduct across
Gleann Achadh-innis Chailein. Soon it came into view. At the back of my brain
was the ‘will I be able to collect water’ worry, because even though it had
rained, it was obvious that the streams were not yet replenished, as there were
lots of dry rivulets beside the path.
I knew the main river in the valley was running, so I ought
to be able to gather water from there if necessary.
Despite having an easy day with lots of stops, plenty to eat
and drink. I was feeling weary, so reaching the viaduct, and finding a neat
little stream close to had I quickly pitched right underneath! When I bought my Trailstar I went for a
colour that would NOT stand out on the hill. This photo shows just how well it
blends in against the stone of the viaduct.
The rain had ceased, but once again there was a mighty wind
blowing, and I hoped that it would not
change direction during the night.
Monday 15th
May 2017
14½ miles
Today looked like it would be an ‘interesting’ day from the
map. I would walk up the valley to its head, then through the pass at Srath
Tarabhan into Glen Lyon. It was my plan to walk the south shore of the loch
then see how far I could go beyond the dam at Lubreoch.
As I set off the wind, which had been strong all night,
continued blowing. Luckily it was behind me, blowing me uphill. Squalls blew
through, and soon I was being reminded of the difficult days I had experienced
in April on the Cape Wrath Trail.
I took brief respite from the weather in a sheep-shearing
shed at Ais-an t-Sithean before pressing on into the gale. I thought it was a
sad reflection on the economy of farming that there were a large number of last
year’s fleeces abandoned in the shed.
As the valley turned from a north-easterly direction to
easterly the wind changed, now full in my face. The previous help it had been
now was a serious hindrance, with gusts threatening to bowl me over. I jammed
my sticks in the ground, bent over into the wind … and still felt myself being
blown backwards. After an almighty struggle (although it was on a path that was
in good condition) I got over the pass and started dropping down into Glen Lyon.
The path went close by an estate building with big signs
warning people off – then mercifully, there was another sheering shed. Exhausted by my battle with the weather I
gratefully went inside and found a chair, just inside the doorway! It was
obviously destined for me to rest here!
I got out my stove and brewed up, using water spilling from
a gutter off the roof. As I recovered I wrapped my storm shelter around me to
keep the draughts off, and I managed to avoid getting chilled. Presently I
dozed a little. Waking, I mused about staying there, out of the storm. For the next couple of days I had easy
distances. I could afford to stop awhile to wait out the storm, and catch up
later. I must have sat there for a couple of hours, dozing, waking and eating a
little, dozing again. Every time I looked out of the doorway the rain was
slamming down into puddles in the yard.
Eventually the rain eased to a drizzle, and the wind
dropped. I started to pack up ready to go. Two other Challengers, David and
Julie, arrived at the shed, also seeking shelter whilst they ate lunch. They
did not seem to have had such a rough time on the pass as me, but had been
knocked about earlier by the weather on the way up from Bridge of Orchy.
I set off down the loch. Despite my rest I was feeling
battered and slow. It may have been raining hard, but the loch was very low.
There were some ‘interesting’ streams to cross, freshly in
spate as a result of the morning of heavy rain. I wondered how long it would
take for there to be some impression on the low level of the loch.
Eventually I got down to the dam and hydro buildings,
looming out of the mist. By the time I got there the wind had dropped
considerably, and the surface of the loch was like a mirror. How conditions can
alter, in the space of a few short hours.
The roadway down from the dam to Lubreoch was very steep –
and viciously eroded. Half-way down the
hill a small white van went pelting past me – only to nearly sop a few yards
further on when the tarmac all but disappeared and gaping potholes ate into
both sides of the road. The perils of motoring on little-used mountain
roadways!
From Pubil I followed the road eastwards through farmland,
eventually making a difficult pitch (too much gravel under the turf) near a
memorial to Robert Campbell a local man, who had emigrated and then done some
significant exploring for the Hudson’s Bay Company in the mid-19th
Century.
Tuesday 16th
May 2017
13 miles
This day was one of walking gently down the valley by way of
little used roads and farm tracks.
There were quite a few things of interest, such as ancient
shelters, (above) and the hydro scheme at Stronuich (below)
The Bridge of Balgie ran over a lovely stream, and suddenly
seemed to bring me from mountain into tourist land.
A tea-shop at Bridge of Balgie was a brief delight, not
least because if brought me into contact with other Challengers. However they
were all heading north towards Rannoch, so I was soon on my own again. From Bridge
of Balgie there was a lovely farm track to the south of the river. I was happily set in trundle mode as I covered the
miles, looking for somewhere to pitch out of the wind.
Normally I would not go near a sheep fold, for fear of
ticks, but I was fed up of the wind, and it didn’t look like it had been
occupied much recently, so I chanced pitching in its shelter. A stream ran
nearby, and I was tired. Decision made.
Wednesday 17th
May 2017
9 miles
Someone switched on the sun whilst I was asleep. I woke on
Wednesday morning to a sky washed clear, a crystal early morning. I struck my
Trailstar and put it to air on the wall of the sheep-fold, whilst I breakfasted
in the open air.
Setting off with a spring in my step I soon got to the end of
the farm track at Dericambus and found a lovely, unexpected picnic bench just
before the bridge, where I had a second breakfast.
Joining the road it was obvious that this was farm country,
with a fair amount of traffic, but with drivers happy to wave and smile. I had
a chat with a farmer on a quad bike, who was familiar with the idea of
Challengers passing through the area.
For a while I followed the river, in one place intrigued by
ancient, gnarled trees, full of character and mystery. Definitely a place to be
in full daylight, not passing through by torchlight on a misty night!
Not far from here I caught sight of a pheasant posing in the
sun on a log.. Although he knew I was there he waited like a supermodel turning
his head this way and that., while I snapped shot after shot till I got the one
I was happy with.
I stopped beside the river for a long lunch break, brewing
tea and enjoying the place. Just as I was starting to pack up someone began
working close by with a chain saw. What a racket that made. So different from
the peaceful atmosphere that had been there before.
Soon the road tucked itself in close to the hillside, and I
saw a sight that filled me with amazement. I have mentioned the bluebells
before. Here there were acres, and acres of bluebells, with the whole woodland
seeming to glow purple, wherever I looked. I have never seen such numbers of
flowers in one place. Stunning.
I hoped that I would find a tea-room, but this did not come
to pass. The road walking was taking its toll on my legs, and I was getting a
bit fed up, despite pretty countryside. I pushed on, looking forward to
arriving at the farm where I had booked a real bed for the night. A shower was
also high on my priorities. Wet-wipes can only go so far, and I was desperate
to wash my hair.
Finally I arrived at Boreland and could not find anyone
anywhere on the farm. There was a phone number on the sign by the door.
Wondering if I had a signal I switched my phone on and rang
…. and discovered that the bunkhouse was currently’ unmanned’. I was given a
door code, and eventually got it to work.
Inside I found a lovely bunkhouse – but that the hot water was not
working. I had a wash using water from the kettle, cooked a meal and even
watched the telly for a little while. Seeing a weather forecast was a bonus.
Unfortunately the parcel I had expected was no-where to be found. Luckily I had
not eaten all my supplies from Bridge of Orchy, and had just enough to stretch
out for the next day to get me into Aberfeldy.
I went to bed in a bed. Luxury!
Thursday 18th
May 2017
11½ miles
I had a lot of choices about route to Aberfeldy. As it was
quite warm when I set off, despite being early, I decided to go through the
trees as much as possible, to get shade. I also did not feel like climbing too
much. I chose a route parallel to the main A827. To begin with it was fabulous.
A clear track through woodland, easy to follow, interesting wildlife and
flowers everywhere.
At one point I heard the noisy chatter of a nest-full of
baby birds. Seeking the location of the nest I scanned the trees and was
rewarded with the sight of an owl swooping towards the noise, complete with a
mouse drooping in its beak. I have never seen that before – and in daylight
too. I never saw the nest: I reckon it was in a hollow in the tree, at the far
side and facing away from me. At another point I came upon a group of deer, who
scattered quickly at my approach.
Annoyingly, this fine trackway suddenly came to an end.
Considering what to do, it was difficult to get off the track, because there
were huge piles of logging debris. I had to backtrack about 50 meters before I
could drop off the track, down the steep slope towards the road. It was a very
steep slope, so I angled my way carefully across the slope, not wanting to slip
and end up on the main road below. Without expecting it, as I picked my way
carefully downhill I suddenly came on a level patch – and realised it was
another roadway, half-way down to the road. Again I moved forwards, for a few
hundred meters. Vegetation closed in, and I put on my wind shirt and gloves to
protect hands and arms, despite the warm day. Working my way through the brush
I eventually came out at the side of the road itself – and found myself just a
short distance away from a car park and information centre.
Here I met a group of people preparing to go for an
open-water swim in Loch Tay. They told me where to find footpaths to take me to
the Mains of Taymouth and Kenmore. As I arrived there I passed a complex which
had once been a fancy residence, which looked as if it had been converted into
holiday lets – perhaps a time-share development. Rather up-market. Not really in
keeping with one who has been wild-camping in the mountains for the better part
of a week! Before I know it I was sitting in a lovely café with a pot of tea
and eating cake. I felt really out of place, surrounded by conventional tourist
families having fancy breakfasts,
The swimmers had made me aware of a nice riverside path to
Aberfeldy, with a short stretch of road at Comrie bridge. I had a lovely
morning. I discovered this monument buried in the woodland.
Later, following the riverside I found a fisherman’s shelter
and stopped to brew up.
Sitting there and enjoying the river I was joined by David
& Margaret, who soon pushed on after a short break, as they were aiming to get beyond
Aberfeldy for the night.
Finally I stirred my stumps and took myself the final few
miles to Aberfeldy and my hotel. The shower was hot and I found a fine pizza in
the “Three Lemons”. What more could a girl need?
Friday 19th
May 2017
9 miles
My original plan had been to take Friday as a rest day in Aberfeldy,
moving-on on Saturday via the Rob Roy way, heading towards Brechin then the
coast.
By this point in the proceedings, I was heartily fed-up of
my own company, and realised that although the countryside was very pretty it
was not what I was looking for as a Challenge.
On Friday evening I had rung Challenge Control and told them
I was going to head north, making for Tarfside and Northwater Bridge. The only
real downside of this was that I would have to sacrifice my rest day.
Accordingly, I had a lazy morning, eating a hotel breakfast,
then doing shopping and chores for the rest of the morning. Just after lunch I
set off again, paralleling the main road to Grandtully on an old railway line …
… then taking the B898 to Balnamuir. I got there mid
evening, and sought permission to camp on the riverside. Unfortunately this was
not given, as the estate does not like camping on the river bank, but I was told I could go under the bridge
and camp out of sight round the other side.
By going under the left-hand span of the bridge I found a
very acceptable pitch just over into a field, fitting my Trailstar onto
uncultivated ground just before the ploughed area.
Saturday 20th
May 2017
15 miles
Waking early I struck camp in the rain and quickly set off
across the bridge. The old railway bridge has been adapted as a local estate
road. The upper surface is decked in wooden planking. It is wide enough for one
car.
I got away from the main road at Logierait and Ballinluig,
climbing uphill steadily in the rain. I went through the grounds of Tulliemet
house, checking with a farmer that I was on the right track.
The rain eased off during the morning, though showers kept
running through all day. Following the track I soon went past Loch
Oisinneach-Mor and Loch Oisinneach, and then over Creag Gharbh,
I then followed a marked path to Kirkmichael which took me
east down to Dalvey rather than the route I had originally thought of north to the Mains of Glenderby then east. It
was probably about the same distance in the long run, but was on a marked
path….
Arriving in Kirkmichael I had a cup of tea in the shop/café
and then looked for somewhere to stay. I was feeling soggy and tired and would
have loved a bed, so went to various places suggested by the lady in the shop.
However there was a cycle race in the area on the Sunday, and everywhere was
booked fully. The Strathardle Hotel did let me camp in the field beside the hotel,
and I had a very nice dinner there. When I eventually crawled into my sleeping bag I was both warm and tummy-full.
Sunday 21st
May 2017
12 miles
I had mistakenly expected the first part of the day to be
fairly easy, but it proved to be difficult ground for me to walk on, over rough
pasture and boggy ground. I took far longer getting from Kirkmichael to Lair
than I would have expected, although it was a lovely route.
The pattern of
stiles used locally is worth remembering. They are some of the nicest that I
have ever encountered, not only because they have a hand rail, but also because
there is room to stand securely on the top whilst turning around to descend.
Between Lair and Cray I had a halt beside the river where I
brewed a cup of tea, then pushed onto Meikle Forter where I turned up Glen
Isla. There is a lovely old castle house there.
The walk up Glen Isla was a bit of a trudge along the road,
and I was not really looking forward to the climb when I got to Fergus. So many
contour lines on the map, so close together!
The track proved to be in good
condition, however, and the ascent was not too punishing.
My original plan had
been to take the ridge path from Craig Lair as far as Tarmach Cairn then to
drop down into Glen Prosen via the Glack of Balquhadder, camping at Kilbo ruin.
As it turned out, I stopped much sooner than that. A huge squall loomed when I was halfway up to Craig Lair.
My
instinct was to get under shelter – quickly. As I was in the open, but close to
an open patch of ground, I speedily put up my Trailstar and hurried under cover
as the first huge drops smashed into me. I had not had a chance to collect
water, so could not make my evening meal while I waited out the storm, but at least I was out of the worst of the
rain. The Trailstar has been a fabulous, reliable shelter for five years. That
squall was the beating of it though, as the
seam-sealant gave up against the pounding. Before long I was sitting mopping up leaks like I was in a
shower! It was better than being outside though.
I spent time looking closely at my maps and decided to stay put where I was for the night. Tomorrow I would stay high on the ridge and head for Mayar (at 928m a Munro) then
rejoin my planned route via the Kilbo path into Glen Doll then Gen Clova.
Monday 22nd
May 20177
12 miles
Rising early I soon climbed up to Craig Lair and onto the
ridgeway track. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, loving the views, the terrain and
the easy rhythm that walking took with a decent surface underfoot most of the
time.
Getting to Tarmach Cairn I expected to have to start heather bashing as the map said the track would end there,
but I discovered that the marked track been extended northwards. It
was heading away towards Dun Hillocks when I left it to cut east to Mayar.
Before turning off towards Mayar I rested at an intriguing shelter build of stones and
earth-banking.
Although not a ‘complete’ shelter with a roof, it was so warm that when I sat
down inside, I did not need to put on extra clothing, as I would usually do, despite a stiff wind. I know it was the impact of the shelter, because the
moment I stood up it was like I had been sliced into by a knife of ice!
The rain hit again whilst I was climbing to the summit of
Mayar, and I did not linger. Hurrying away east was like following a motorway, as so many feet have stomped across the ground.
The visibility really closed in here, and it was only
possible to see a few yards ahead. I kept a close eye on my compass and kept
checking my location against GPS. Soon I realised that with a few steps I would
be on the infamous Shank of Drumfallow section of the Kilbo path.
I have to be honest. I hated it. I am not very good with
exposed pathways. Being exposed to a huge drop, in cloud that keeps shifting and showing the near-sheer drops of hundreds of feet is close to a nightmare. I kept going,
kept going, kept going. Eventually the end was in sight. Unfortunately in my pleasure at getting off the goat track like path, I had forgotten
how steep, and how long, the paths down through the woods would be, but
eventually I got to the bottom. My poor knees were protesting loudly by this time.
Carelessness then hit me. I followed what I thought was the
path, and found myself on the wrong side to the river! Having earlier seen a
sign about bridges being washed out downstream I chanced crossing the river –
and managed to do so with my boots on, as the recent drought meant it was really shallow despite the recent rain. Crossing the river left me stranded
in the middle of farmland, with no obvious gate except into a farmyard. Cheekily I headed into the farmyard and out onto the road. Luckily no-one challenged me.
I called into the Ranger Station at the Glen Doll car park, and had a
cup of tea while chatting to the warden. Then it was road-slogging down to The
Glen Clova Hotel. Knowing what I was in for I plugged my i-pod into my ears,
put on some up-beat music and set off down the valley. That straight stretch of
road ALWAYS seems unending, but the relief of actually seeing the hotel is
wonderful.
I was able to get a room in the bunkhouse, have a nice
shower and an amazing meal in company with other Challengers, before my eyelids
drooped completely.
Tuesday 23rd
May 2017
14 miles
Past experience has told me that the climb up past Loch
Brandy to Green Hill(870m) just goes on, and on and on. There seem to be a
whole rash of false summits. On the whole it really reinforces my view that I
don’t like climbing big hills, but once up there, on the plateau I love it. I
was lucky this time to end my climb in company with Geoff Cantrell and his
friend (sorry I have forgotten your name yet again) and soon after to be joined
by Mike Knipe and his son James. A rare mountain photo was taken of me on the
top of Green Hill - rare because I am
usually in the hills on my own.
Talking with other Challengers the night before I had
expressed my loathing of the descent at Inchgrundle – a steep, loose route down
with nothing to commend it. I had decided this time to press on and try to find
a way through, following the ridgeway to Cairn Caidloch. On the map it looked
straightforward. Do not turn with the path at East Cairn. Keep to a compass
bearing. Find the ridge and go with it.
I was having great fun following the path – the regular
cairns must have taken years of work in times gone by. White Hill and Muckle
Cairn (826m) came and went, but at East Cairn my brain went on holiday. Why I
do this I don’t know, but I decided to ‘follow the land’ and look for a route
on the ground. Mistake. I should know better. Before I knew it I was embroiled
in peat hags and then dropping height rapidly down into Glen Effock. That was
NOT sensible. It is too steep to contour successfully, and I ended up having to climb the hill again. I re-established the ridge path just east of
Burnt Hill, having spent far too much time and energy fossicking around.
From there I stuck religiously to the path, up Cairn
Caidloch (647m)...
... and down the knee-punishing path to the farm at Gleneffock.
I have to
go back and do this route again, to prove to myself that I can do it without
making such a mess of my navigation.
Despite the dodgy bits, I had a wonderful day, and added to
Monday’s ridge walk, the two days really were the high spot of this year’s
Challenge.
Suffice to say that having come off the hill at Gleneffock
farm I trooped down the road to St Drostans at Tarfside, and was mightily pleased to arrive in
time for the last sitting for dinner amongst one of the most convivial
atmospheres in the world. Being able to have a shower and stretch out my
sleeping bag in the conference room, having had a swift one at the Masons Arms
was the perfect end to a wonderful day.
Wednesday 24th
May 2017
17 miles
I left Tarfside fairly early, taking the road down the
valley. Passing the green I saw Challengers packing up, and reflected that as
my Trailstar had sprung a leak a couple of nights ago I was glad not to have
had to sleep out last night.
There is little to say about the route finding from Tarfisde
onwards. The way always seems to go on and on and on, but as motivating factors
there is the 'Tuck Inn' in Edzell and the party atmosphere of the camp site at
North Water Bridge.
I took a short break beside the river, filling up with water
in my filter bottle, as it was getting hot.
Pushing on down the Rocks of Solitude I enjoyed the shade
under the trees – and noticed just how low the water was here.
The Tuck Inn was a great success, as always. The staff are
wonderful, and the fish and chips I had was so huge it could only be described
as ‘Whale and Chips’.
A quick visit to the shop led to a huge shock when I saw the
newspaper headlines telling the story of the Manchester Arena bombing. My heart
sank. So many people I know go there. I hoped no-one we know had been involved.
I thought back to all the people I know who had been involved when there was
the bomb at The Arndale. For a while I got quite emotional – but then realised
that if anything terrible had happened Ron would have found a way to get in
touch with me.
That just left the
last slog across country to NWB campsite. Once again I resorted to my i-pod,
setting it on shuffle, and just bouncing along to the music. I was in a strange
mood – happy, to be nearly at the end, yet sad, with another nearly over.
It is difficult to describe both the atmosphere and environment
at NWB. Everyone crams in to the central grassy area, and the picnic tables
become the centres of mini-parties. Tales are told, friendships deepen and the
Challenger spirit abounds – along with humbler liquid spirits too. My abiding
memory of our ‘party’ was when my Baby-bel cheese became the centre of
attention. Someone had hear that it was possible to make a candle out of the
wax from a Baby-bel. We decided to test it out. A piece of tissue was rolled
into a wick and then the wax moulded around the wick. A suitable stone was
found to sit the candle on, and then with due ceremony it was lit.
It quickly became apparent that this was no idle party
trick, that this was a serious candle, and timing of the burn continued in
earnest.
In the end our
Baby-bel candle burned for 18 minutes.
It was wondered if having a thinner wick would have led to a
slower burn – but we could not find another Baby-bel to test the theory.
Thursday 25th
May 2017
9 miles
Last year I had discovered a nice walk through woodland
between Crago and Hillside, so I had decided to do it again. I had also been
told about a garden centre which did lovely scones, and had plans to find this
place. With that in mind I struck camp for the last time. There is always a
bitter-sweet emotion about that final packing up.
Not a lot can be said about the trudge through North Water
Bridge and Mains of Gallery to Broomley. Reaching the main road I followed the
footpath down to North Craigo and stopped briefly on the bench beside the war
memorial. Pushing on, I was prepared for a short road walk from the end of the
footpath at the last house, to the start of the roadway through the woods. Then
I noticed – possibly because of a newly fallen tree which had cleared the view
into the woods, that there was a slim path down the narrow strip of trees
edging the road.
Delightedly I left the road, for although traffic there was
not heavy, it was still too dominant a factor to relax. Under the trees was
lovely. This slim corridor led down to a farm road. I stepped out onto the main
road, around a wall beside the road and followed straight on down the roadway I
had been aiming for. I think it must have been the old road, which has now been
by-passed by the current loop of road which goes around the outside of
Hillside.
Musing whilst I walked, I soon found myself in Hillside,
where the Post Office turned out to be the source of great treasure: a chilled
bottle of Sprite from the refrigerator. Crossing the main road and following
JJ’s instructions I wended my way to the scones emporium, Charleton Fruit Farm.
From the number of Challengers passing through, this place is a highlight on
many routes to the coast!
Making a slight pig of myself I had a pot of tea, a bowl of
asparagus soup with a cheese roll AND a scone with cream and jam. I figured
that I had worked hard over the last fortnight and could afford a bit of a
nosh!
Fortified, I checked the route to take to the beach and set
off on the last lap to the water. That last mile seemed to take for ever, but
finally I made it through the dunes to the beach at Kinaber Links and out to
the water. For once it was a lovely day to be on a beach. I dipped my toes and
took a number of photos. I was just turning to go when another Challenger,
Mark, turned up. He kindly took a picture of me.
Having quickly rung home to say I had finished, all that
remained was to find my way into Montrose itself to sign in at Challenge
Control. Once I had received my finisher’s T-shirt I was off to Boots to buy
nail varnish to match my Challenge T-shirt, to paint fingers and toes for the
bun-fight that evening, then settled into my hotel room for a wallow in the
bath. The Challenge was over for 2017.
