Crossing number seven
With six previous crossings under my belt, I decided that this year I would take a route which was a weaving together of my favourite bits from previous years. As I love valley walking, Glen Afric is way up in my top 10 list, so I chose Shiel Bridge as my starting point.
Heavy snow as recently as Easter had curtailed my planned training walks in Scotland, and at the end of April I had nasty mist and sleet to contend with in the Lake District, so I did not altogether trust a long-range forecast suggesting a fine crossing. I packed wet weather gear and my microspikes.
My journey north was uneventful, if very long. I had not been able to secure a bed for my last night, so had decided to wildcamp on the headland. It was lovely to pitch up as dusk drew in. I went to sleep to the calls of birds and water gently lapping close by.
Friday 11th May 2018 – day 1.
Waking up, excited, I could not wait to get going. I had breakfast and struck camp, heading for the sign-out point at the Kintail Lodge Hotel. I was first to arrive – too early! Leaving my pack in the lounge I went for a wander, including the obligatory toe in the water.
Eventually the sign-out list appeared, and I was off, taking the well-worn route up Gleann Lichd. There was a strong wind blowing, unusually from the east, which picked up as the morning wore on. By the time I got to Glenlicht House I was glad to tuck in beside the building to take shelter from this wind and to have a snack.
I love distance walking. However, I HATE climbing. It is a necessary evil in order to walk in the hills. From this point onwards I knew that I had to gird my loins and get stuck into the nasty stuff. It was going to be steep, and I had a full pack to carry.
From Glenlicht house I crossed the bridges, looking down the little stream that has cut such a deep valley.
I ground my way up the steep path along the Allt Grannda to the valley head. The wind, seriously buffeting me, was by now impeding progress, and as I climbed rain threatened. From time to time I dug in my poles and leaned into the wind, just to remain steady in the wind. Although this path is through rather scenic territory, with pretty valley views and waterfalls, I did not pay it much attention on this visit. I was more concerned with staying on my feet. I am never the fastest walker, but today I seemed slower than ever. Topping-out, as I stopped for a breather the rain began, and the track to Camban Bothy became a trudge to make up time.
I popped into the bothy for a bit of relief from the weather, joining many other Challengers who were passing through, hiding from the weather or stopping for a chat. Conscious that I was behind schedule I kept my visit short, and soon was stretching my legs again, intent on making Alltbeithe youth hostel before too long. I have walked this stretch quite a few times, and love that first view of the place, with its wind-turbine, in the middle of nowhere. There was less wind here, and I fairly trotted the last section down to the river, although I was bone-weary after the battering I had taken from the wind earlier.
I was REALLY glad when the warden booked me in with no fuss, and I was able to quickly organise myself a meal, sort my gear for the morning and get my head down in the dorm.
Saturday 12th May 2018 – day 2.
Saturday morning brought my usual early start. I was surprised to learn that another Challenger had seriously injured himself falling down the steps to the dorm the previous evening, damaging an ankle and knee. Discussions ensued with various early risers and the warden about how he should proceed. As I left the hostel I understood that he was going to take the day to try to recover, staying an extra night at the hostel. I never heard whether he was able to carry on with his Challenge later.
After the rain on Friday I knew the normally boggy track out from the youth hostel would be unpleasant, so I made sure I remembered to put on my gaiters before making an early start setting out, even though it looked a nice morning.
There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the wind had dropped. Quite soon I realised that it was going to be a very hot day, and my trusty Tilly hat was in service. By the time I got down to Athnamulloch the heat was beginning to get to me, and I felt like a second breakfast, so I found a lovely place to sit and dangle my feet in the river while I ate a snack.
Continuing on down the track beside the river between Athnamulloch and Loch Affric I went into geographer mode, looking at the depositional patterns...
... and loving some of the things I saw, such as really clear layers of silt-deposition in the bank opposite me.
Trotting down the track I was loving being in Glen Affric again.
I knew I had made the right decision picking this as part of my route, despite the long distance I needed to cover in a day, especially in the heat. I bumped into various groups of Challengers. Some were old acquaintances, some new. A lot of people seemed to be aiming for an overnight stop in Cougie, but I was heading on to Cannich, so I said goodbye to many in the vicinity of the new hydro development at the Allt Garbh ‘junction’.
A mile or so further on was shocked out of my peace and quiet by the realisation that I was about to share a route with a cycle race. A marshall at a track junction told me that this was part of a duathlon race around Loch Beinna Mheadhoin and Carn Fiaclach, based on the car parks on the north of the glen. She said that for the next couple of kilometres I would need to watch out for cyclists. In actual fact, it was more like 6 or 7 kilometers. I entered into the spirit of the race, cheering them on as they zipped past. At one point a drone hovered overhead for a while, and I wondered if it was filming the race. Some of the cyclists were obviously suffering in the heat, especially those who were at the tail end. Eventually I saw a little gaggle of marshalls on bikes following up the back-markers, and things became peaceful again.
By the time I got down to the carpark near the Dog Falls I was ready for a good rest. I sat for a while with my boots off in the shade of the trees and ate a good meal, summoning the energy to make that last push down to Cannich. From previous experience I knew this would be a hard stretch to do. I started counting paces, marking off the kilometres passing, and went into ‘blot-it-out’ mode. There was quite a lot of traffic, presumably associated with the race now being over.
Sunday 13th May – day 3.
My feet were sore. There was no doubt about it. Yesterday the tracks and the heat had done damage. I could feel pressure-sores developing. Although I have had minor problems with my feet over the years, and worse trouble with knees, I have never had any serious trouble with my feet since my very first Challenge. I knew that today I would have to be VERY careful. I made an early start, determined to take breaks when I could, yet conscious that I was aiming to get onto the ferry across Loch Ness this evening rather than in the morning. I was working to a strict timeframe.
I always find the third day of a trek hard. The body screams ‘stop and let me rest’. The first part of the day, road walking along the A831, was not easy. All I wanted to do was curl up and sleep. I kept having to stop for short breaks. I remembered doing this section a few years ago on a Challenge and talking with a chap who had decided he would go as far as Drumnadrochit and pull out. At the time I couldn’t understand it. This morning, with my sore feet and huge desire to sleep I knew how he felt, however, I knew this would pass.
Pulling off the road at Kyleachorky, I found a bus shelter to sit in and rest. As I sat there, there was a sudden inundation of other Challengers. Happy banter lifted my spirits, and soon I was off again. Once more into the woodland, this section was much pleasanter. I was in two minds whether to stay on the forest track all the way down Glen Urquhart to Drumnadrochit, or whether to do the last section on the road. In the end I went for the road, as I didn’t need any shopping in the village itself, and the forest track would bring me out at the wrong end of Drumnadrochit for the ferry. The road, on the other hand, would come into the village at the right end to head straight up to Temple Pier.
By the time I got into Drumnadrochit my feet were a mess. I was very footsore. Keeping going was hard work. I put one foot in front of another and plodded on to the ferry. Would I get there before it left? I wasn’t sure. I certainly was not intending to walk back into the village later. I decided that if the ferry had gone I would stay put until the next one ran across, whenever it would happen. Bivi if necessary.
My relief at seeing the boat was HUGE! People on board recognised me and shouted encouragement. I clambered on board and flopped into a seat, exhausted! It wasn’t even going out immediately. Gradually I came back to ‘normal’.
By the time Gordon Menzies stepped on board I felt human again. I even enjoyed the trip across the loch with my fellow Challengers. We were all heading for the same stop overnight at Ault na goire.
The climb up the Pass of Inverfarigaig at the end of the day was hard. I knew that would be an unpleasant, steep climb. I put my head down and went into ‘grind’ mode, knowing that no matter how steep the pass was, the end was not far ahead.
The second big relief point of the day happened when I got to the Sutherland’s home at Ault na goire. A cup of tea never tasted so good!
Many people, far more articulate than I, have written about the hospitality of the Sutherlands. Suffice to say that they are kind, humorous, wonderful hosts, and have a little piece of quirky heaven at the top of that hill.
We set up camp in their back field, a small but happy band of fellow Challengers.
Despite the constant pain I was now in from my feet, I really enjoyed my stop-over with them, and thoroughly appreciated the good food from their kitchen.
Realising that my feet were beginning to cause me serious problems (and reflecting back on the problems I had during my first Challenge, when this last occurred) I knew I was going to have to lighten my load. I ruthlessly went through my pack, taking out things from the journey up such as a tidy top I wore and my Kindle, maps I had finished with, and borderline ‘will I need-its?’ such as my microspikes (brought with the Lairig Ghru in mind). I put as much as I thought I could get rid of into a carrier bag and left it with Janet for later retrieval.
Monday 14th May, Day 4.
With my pack a bit lighter, and a huge breakfast in my belly, I set off on what I knew would be a fairly short day. Once again it was quite hot. It was my plan to take my time and be kind to myself, after three really strenuous days. I trundled through Errogie, once more being amused by the ‘library’ phone-box, and through Milton, turning off the road after crossing a bridge just past Aberarder House. I stopped to paddle and lunch just by the bridge, having a lovely break.
I could have stayed there all afternoon, but knew I had to climb up into the hills, so eventually I set off again.
After the steep climbs of the last few days, today did not seem so bad. Perhaps the gradient was a little less steep. Certainly, it was tolerable, and I was able to enjoy the view.
There was a fascinating set of ancient tree stumps in the peat layer by the track – and it was obviously the remnant of extensive woodland, as I could see root systems dangling out of the peat on the far side of the valley too.
My target for the day was a hut I had visited before. At the back of my mind was the question of whether or not it would be open. I was determined that if it was locked up I would camp nearby. I was not going to push on. I knew my body needed a short day and a long rest. Luckily the hut was open. I took advantage of the shelter it offered.
I used the table and benches to cook my meal, hung up clothes to air on various pegs, and when time came to settle down, made a sleeping platform from the bench-seats. Before darkness fell I took a little stroll to check out my route for the morning, in case mist came down overnight.
Tuesday 15th May – day 5.
I need not have worried. The morning was clear, with further promise of a nice day.
 |
| Miles and miles of peat hags |
Reaching the trackway at a bridge over a stream I stopped to paddle my blisters and to brew up a mug of tea.
Although my feet were sore, I was moving well, and had a very enjoyable morning. The sudden change from the wildness of the high hills to the pastoral focus of the glen was quite stunning.
Down in the valley I saw a huge herd of deer amongst the sheep. I was just wondering if they were being farmed when they took off, jumped across the stream and a fence and stopped half-way up the next hill, watching me carefully from a safe distance.
Following paths, bridges and a minor road I worked my way down the Findhorn as far as the Wester Strathnoon burn. From here I climbed again. I was in my stride now, and despite my feet I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon, climbing up into the hills again.
I followed the excellent track up onto Càrn Dubh ‘Ic an Deòir, stopping at a ‘lunch-hut’ for a snack and a rest. My objective was a cairn about a kilometre NE of the summit.
Here, I blew it! I spotted ‘the track’ and stopped following my compass. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! When will I learn? By the time I realised what I had done, my bungling stupidity had taken me about a mile out of the way, to the wrong side of a range of evil peat hags and a series of fences.
Tired, dispirited, very, very cross with myself, I thanked my lucky stars that the weather was good and did what had to be done to get back on track. I checked my grid reference repeatedly, used my compass properly, and trod carefully for what seemed mile upon mile of nasty cacky ground.
Eventually I got myself onto the right trackway to head down to the Red Bothy. By now it was getting dark. I was shattered. I came upon another lunch-hut. It was full of mouse-eaten debris. The veranda was clean. I cooked and ate outside on the veranda and slept in its shelter.
Wednesday 16th May – day 6.
Rising early I left the lunch hut and dropped past the Red Bothy to cross the bridge on the river and start the long, long climb on the ‘Burma Road’.
Although I have been that way before I was once again stunned by how it stands out on the hill.
⇓
The climb is long but not too evil. I paced myself, stopping from time to time, including at a perfectly shaped rock which was obviously well frequented by walkers ...
... and took the opportunity to chat with other Challengers along the way.
Reaching the top, I celebrated and took a longer rest with my boots off, eating a good meal.
The trek downhill was a delight – the gradient just right for me to swing down using my poles for support. I sang to myself, happily, enjoying the sunshine. By the time I got down to the first trees that were casting shade I was ready for another break.
The whole descent was lovely until I reached the pollution of the A9, and frantic traffic noise.
For a short while I had to put up with so-called ‘civilisation’, cutting over to the old road to Aviemore, then turning up to Coylumbridge, and getting onto the old logging road as soon as possible.
Booking into the Rothiemurchus campsite I collected a resupply parcel. The campsite is a delight. It has one of the best shower blocks I know of. Suffice to say I enjoyed the use of the facilities, cooked a meal and settled quickly to sleep.
Thursday 17th May – day 7.
A big day ahead, I set off as soon as I was able.
I loved the walk through the woodland and out over the Caingorm Club footbridge.
Climbing on upwards, although the main river was running, all the side streams were dry.
I began to be concerned about having enough water to drink for the day, as to cut down on weight I had been carrying very little since Ault na goire, relying on using my filter bottle on a regular basis. (Following an unpleasant episode several years ago I rarely drink directly from streams any more, usually filtering my water, sometimes using purification tablets)
Eventually, as I climbed further and further, small trickles of water appeared, and I finally got to a small side stream that was flowing comfortably. Pleased, I stopped and filled up my filter, mixing up an electrolyte drink as I was already hot and sweaty.
Leaving Rothiemurchus behind, the unmistakable shape of the Lairig Ghru appeared.
The path continued to climb encountering patches of late-lying snow.
I passed the memorial to Angus Sinclair.
In places the path became very rough, and in some places it crossed the snowfields.
My sore feet made me feel very unstable. I had particular difficulty crossing the boulderfields.
I got too tired, compounded by too sore. I suppose I should have stopped for a proper break, but I was conscious of moving slowly and getting behind schedule – so I filled up on painkillers and kept going. That was probably a mistake. I ground on, eventually getting to the Pools of Dee and beyond. I SO wanted the boulderfields to end.
Eventually, I had to stop. Even though I was now on the ‘downhill’ stretch, I was crawling slowly over the ground. I began to realise that my objective for the day, Derry Lodge, was not achievable. I decided to aim for the ford below Luibeg bridge. If I could get there, then the next day would not be too long to manage.
My memory of the evening is a fog of pain. One foot in front of another. I have few distinct recollections other than tracking the majestic shape of the Devil’s Point first towards me, alongside me and then past. Dusk was falling as I headed along the last kilometres to Luibeg.
Friday 18th May – day 8
Waking in the early dawn light I realised I was camped on sand. The gritty surface had no stability. I wriggled out of my Trailstar, realising the tarp was frozen solid. I made a quick decision. It was too cold to linger, so I ate a couple of oatcakes and packed up quickly. Breakfast could wait till things got warmer!
By the time I got down to Derry Lodge, the sun had risen above the hills and things were warming up. I crossed the new bridge and found a patch of sunshine at the foot of the big trees. I set up my stove on the concrete bridge supports, and brewed up.
The track down Glen Lui is beautiful. I thoroughly enjoyed this stretch of the day and was in high spirits by the time I got to Mar Lodge. A couple of cups of tea later I was back on my way, stopping for lunch on a bench at a carpark looking out over the meanders of the Dee.
Arriving in Braemar was celebrated with tea and cake, and soon I was in my hotel and the sheer luxury of a bath. Heaven!
With a rest day planned for tomorrow, my husband was coming up to Braemar after work. Knowing it would be hours before his journey ended I crawled into bed to sleep for a while in a vain attempt to become vaguely human before he arrived.
Saturday 19th May – day 9
With feet that were barely functioning at least I could spend the day in sandals, rather than boots. I discovered that I could remove the heel straps from my sandals, re-routing the straps and velcro away from sore bits of foot.
We went on a road-trip to recover the bag of belongings stashed at Ault na goire.
The remainder of the day was spent catching up with other Challengers and eating some very nice food.
Sunday 20th May – day 10
It is unusual for me to have a cooked breakfast, but on this occasion, I ate my fill at the hotel before saying goodbye to my husband and setting off once again.
On the way out of Braemar I was lucky to meet up with Emma and Louise, Challenger friends.
There is something very special about the fabulous woodland on the estate.
We stopped for a break near Connachat Cottage. It was a bit chilly, but I was determined to get my boots off and air my blisters.
The others were heading off in a different direction from me, so we parted after resting near the cottage, and I headed up the track south-south easterly high above Gelder Shiel and past Little Conachcraig.
I certainly was able to see the mighty mountain in all its glory but did not have much spare brain-power to enjoy the sight as I fought to remain on my feet!
Tired from my battle with the wind it was a difficult couple of kilometres, picking my way carefully down the steep route, avoiding falling. I was very glad to get down to the valley. I saw a few people taking shelter in the trees but pushed on across the open ground to Spittal of Glenmuick. I knew from my 2013 Challenge that there were some places I could stealth camp high up the Allt Darrarie. Tiredly I climbed again, glad that here the wind was not too strong.
and was just sorting myself out to walk a bearing to the bothy at Sheilin of Mark when I was gobsmacked to see an eagle soaring above me. I forgot all about my camera as I watched it soaring for several minutes, before it headed off away from me.
I took time-out exploring the curious structure. I wondered if it had been some kind of look-out point, as it commands such a great view of the surrounding land.
I recognised the signs of exhaustion setting in. Coupled with my poorly feet, I knew not to push myself too hard. I succumbed to a bacon sandwich from St Drostan’s kitchen, which I stashed for a second breakfast on the road.
There was some of the usual gear-geeking going on, people swapping tales and so on, but it was too cold for much of that. I got myself sorted out, ate and cleared up, then slept.
With somewhere to leave my pack I headed off to play on the beach!
I rang home. I ate icecream. I borrowed a deckchair and a book to read. I boiled eggs laid by chickens running around the site. I lazed away the afternoon. I lazed away the evening. I fell asleep listening to seagulls and the waves on the shore.
and was crowned by entertainment provided by some talented Challengers. Where they found the energy to sing and play at the end of their Challenge I don’t know. Hats off to them!
The wind grew stronger and stronger as I climbed out of the woodland, and once on the exposed slopes it became very troublesome. To begin with it was blowing on my right shoulder, so at least it was pushing me into the slope, but as I continued to climb it veered to head on, and I had to fight for every step forwards that I took, sometimes having to dig my poles in and just stand bent into the wind in order to stay on my feet. This was very sapping. Occasionally I found large rocks to duck behind for a rest. At least it was dry. The windchill was bad, however, and I put my waterproofs on as an extra layer of protection.
Back in 2013 I had done this route, detouring to Gelder Shiel. I had an unfortunate experience with a bee sting, and had not been well as I climbed, so on this Challenge I wanted to take this route again in order to be able to better enjoy the view across to Lochnagar.
The strength of the wind increased as I climbed and climbed, and I did wonder about my safety. I went into risk-assessment mode. There was no sign of rain and I could drop down behind rocks periodically for a rest when things got too difficult. Although I was using far more energy than I usually would just to stay on my feet, I had plenty of snacks to keep me going. In the end I decided that so long as I was in no immediate danger of being thrown off the path by the wind, I would be OK. I kept churning upwards.
Reaching the summit of the path and turning east took me out of the full force of the wind. The relief was immense. Finding a small quarry alongside the path which was completely out of the wind I stopped for a proper break. However, it was not a very nice place to be, as there was a lot of unpleasant litter stuffed into various crevices, and I quickly changed my mind about lingering. It makes me angry that people do not carry out their litter. I make a point of taking every scrap with me until I find a proper bin to dispose of things, even if I end up with several days of rubbish stashed before I find one.
The ascent had been up a well-maintained track. The descent was, unfortunately, down a very rough, dangerously eroded, loose surface.
The day had taken a lot out of me. I pitched camp on a little patch of grass beside the river, made sure I ate well and dropped into a deep sleep.
Monday 21st May – day 11
I woke early. After the challenges of Sunday, the dawn hinted at a beautiful day. Soon I had eaten breakfast and struck camp. I continued climbing up the tight little valley,
With that in my head I set up my bearing and crossed country. I found the bothy and stopped for a break outside, chatting to other Challengers. My recollection of the bothy was of a dark, damp place. On this sunny morning it was not so bad, however I think I would not chose to stay here unless the weather was vile.
Pressing on, I was surprised how low the water was, and how ‘dry’ the peat hags were. I remember this as a boggy place, but today I had no trouble moving across country, and soon was up on the top at Muckle Cairn.
Dropping down the hill, which was very steep in places, I soon passed the Stables of Lee and got into Glen Lee itself. It was hot. Very hot and dry. The track along the glen is well made, and I trotted along happily, enjoying the view.
I set myself a target to reach the head of the loch, and then to have a good break looking across the waters.
My feet were in a pretty bad state, and it was hard getting my boots back on. I filled up on pain-killers again.
From here I was on familiar ground, having come through Invermark on the way to Tarfside a number of times on past Challenges. Once again, I was struck by the sudden change from the wild hillside to neatly bound pastoral land, which had caught my attention in Glen Mazaran. This last part of the day was not difficult – but it was painful. One foot in front of another. Plod on. Plod on.
The team at St Drostans in Tarfside are heroes. They look after Challengers with such care and gentle humour. I love the atmosphere with Challengers sharing tales and helping each other. I was lucky to get a bed in the hostel, so after eating and having a very nice shower I soon tucked myself up for the night.
Tuesday 22nd May – day 12
Although I had planned to have an early start, as I knew this would be a long day, somehow this did not happen. There is no easy way to walk to Edzell. It is a long road-walk, and I had nothing left in the tank to head for the hills.
I set myself into trundle mode and headed off down the valley. I simply walked in stages. When I felt the need to stop, I stopped. I had a break by the river.
I had another break in woodland soon after finding this amazing folly.
In previous years I have called into Edzell to eat at the Tuck Inn and to buy things at the shop. This year I realised that I had sufficient food for the day, so did not need to shop and had no desire to sit in a noisy if pleasant café socialising. Because I had been taking breaks to ease my feet I had been covering ground even more slowly today. I decided to bypass the village, stay on the riverbank and head straight for the campsite at Northwater Bridge.
A cold wind was blowing across the campsite when I arrived. Quite a few Challengers were already pitched up, with most ensconced in their tents, keeping warm.
Wednesday 23rd May – day 13
Today would be my last day. I would reach the coast. My objective was Johnshaven. I was not going to do as in previous years, dash for the coast and then head to Montrose stratight away to sign out as soon as possible. I would savour the end. Setting off, I had made no firm decisions about exactly what form that end would take. I was determined to just let the day evolve. I might stay in Johnshaven. I might travel to Montrose having finished.
I have walked as far as Marykirk and the Den of Morphie before. I climbed the hill beyond, turning off up the hill and through the impressive gateway up onto the Hill of Morphie.
The route was through lovely farmland. I kept to a set of farm roads and minor roads that roughly paralleled the main coast road. There was almost no traffic once the school run was over.
Once again it was a fine day. Before long I could see the sea in the distance, and suddenly the familiar sight of the spire of the church at St Cyrus came into view.
Getting to Lauriston I had no choice but to take the B9120 down the hill towards the main road. Initially I had thought I could walk a short distance along the coast road and back up onto minor roads, to take me the last of the way to Johnshaven. Reaching the junction and seeing the heavy traffic hurtling by made me reconsider. No way was I going to walk up that road, even for less than a kilometre. The obvious solution was to carry on straight down the hill towards the coast. A campsite was noted on the map. I would hit the coast there and see what the site was like. In the spirit of seeing how the day would evolve, I crossed the main road, to see what I would find.
And what I found was a treasure. The people running the campsite were helpful and friendly. Facilities were excellent, and best of all, the campsite was right by the beach. I couldn’t ask for more!
I set up my Trailstar.
Thursday 24th May – day 14
The end of a Challenge is a strange thing. There is excitement comingled with sadness. For so many months your brain has been focused on how to achieve such a major undertaking. Route planning. Gear. Physical preparations.
The physical demands once the Challenge begins push you to the limit. Mentally you are both detached (from your day to day life) and hyper-focused (on route making decisions and safety). Challengers have a common experience of these things. They ‘get’ what is involved, and this common experience binds them together into a community. People meet and share and move on, then pick up again at a later meeting, sometimes years after, as if no break had happened.
It was with regret that I packed up for the last time, yet also with excitement. I knew I was about to dive headlong into the maelstrom of the end of the Challenge: signing out at Challenge Control, spending hours chatting to other Challengers and above all the celebration of the Challenge Dinner.
I carried my pack up to the road and idled away time until a bus rolled up. It was no surprise to find it already carrying Challengers who were heading, like me, into Montrose, and no surprise that the closer we got, the more Challengers stepped on board. Getting off the bus, I had none of the confusion evident in some about where to find the Park Hotel. There are some benefits to having completed seven Challenges!
It was lovely to come into Challenge Control and feel I was meeting old friends. I knew almost everyone there. I was given a mug of tea, went through the rituals and received my goodies. I suspect that a silly grin was on my face and that I talked too much, but that is the nature of these things.
There are lots of places to stay in Montrose, but for the last several crossings I have chosen to stay in the heart of things, at the Park Hotel. It is comfortable, the staff are superb, and it is both easy to get out into the bustle of the celebrations and to retreat to my room when things get too much for me.
I spent the rest of the day catching up with other Challengers and getting ready for the dinner. I have established a personal routine which is to go shopping for nail varnish to match the official finisher’s t-shirt, then to do my nails for the dinner. This year the t-shirt was royal blue, so my nails were blue with a silver top-coat of sparkles.
The evening sped by in a haze of celebration
Friday 25th May - aftermath
The ritual continued into the next day with breakfasting Challengers, the trail across town to the station and the collective huddle to await the train.
Sitting on the train suddenly the bubble burst. As the miles from Montrose increased it dawned on me that the Challenge is over for another year and that I must revert to that other persona which has been on hold for a fortnight, the one which is seen for the other 50 weeks of the year. Family, work, responsibilities crowded back into my mind.
If it hadn’t been for the suntan on my hands, with the white stripe when my pole-straps had been, and the pain from my blisters it might have been easy to wonder if it had been a dream. But no. They kept me grounded in reality as I sorted out the conundrums thrown up by the transport system.
And at the back of my brain.... little whispers were alight.
Where will I go next year? What ideas have I picked up from other Challengers? How could I string them together into a route? And what shall I avoid?
Challenge fever does not pass. It ebbs and flows.
