splendid isolation

Road trip

2012-02-11T16:02:00.002Z

Me & Marion had a short impromptu tour of pairts north last weekend. It was really a journey around Loch Ness, we having established that the Benleva Hotel in Drumnadrochit was happy to stress its dug friendly credentials online. We've often thought it'd be handy to find a hotel apart from the George in Inveraray that we could actually relax in for a night.

And it was good. Not only dog-friendly, but positively dog-encouraging. No extra charge; they were allowed in all the public areas; breakfast was served in the lounge bar, so the dugs could come down and stare at your sausages; and the owners and staff were aye ready with a biscuit or a bowl of water when required. The place was clean, the food was good, and the public bar was one of those proper wee "locals" that even had a log fire. I'll grant you the bedroom was a bit cold when we arrived, but it was baltic outside, and they clearly don't expect many visitors wanting rooms in February.

Overall, genuinely recommended. It's also only about twenty minutes drive from Glen Affric so a return trip would certainly take the edge off a big Munrobagging day there in the summer. Result.

Dumbing down

2012-02-11T10:20:00.003Z

Students, eh?

:0)

Fionn Bheinn

2012-02-01T22:45:00.000Z

It rather appears as if nobody has a good word to say about this wee Munro, on account of it not being a full-on mental jaggy mountain of certain death. It also has the nerve to sit quite near the outdoors media-friendly Fannaichs and Torridon behemoths, which must rather rub salt into the wounds.

Cameron McNeish could certainly never be accused of over-selling it as a day oot: "Fionn Bheinn is an uninspiring hill, rising behind Achnasheen, which, since its hotel burnt to the ground, doesn't have a lot going for it either."

Haud me back.

In reality, it's a cracking walk for a relatively short winter's day; and if you were to catch the right weather, it affords a fantastic viewpoint towards all its big fancy neighbours. I grant you, it's a bit of a trek from darkest Lanarkshire to the start point, but in fairness we left Bellshill at about half seven on Saturday morning, and were back thirteen hours later. That's a long enough day, but it's nowhere near the mini epics we'll do in the summer. Plus, Andy drove all the way there and back, so the travelling was a piece of cake as far as I'm concerned.
:0)

There are a few ways up the hill, and in good visibility it'll always be pretty apparent where you're headed, but the route we actually followed was the one set out on Walkhighlands.

For ease of reference, I'll repeat it, add any necessary glosses, and stick in a couple of dug photies along the way.
;0)

"1. Park at the car park in the centre of Achnasheen, which has toilets. This area has been landscaped in recent years and is attractive with a small village pond. Head west up the lane back to the main A832 road, turning left and cross road. Almost immediately, by red telephone box, take old road over stone bridge, and turn right through kissing gate (footpath sign) and follow track to water treatment hut. Between the burn and hut, go through kissing gate (footpath sign) and follow burn, keeping to the left of the fence. Go through the gate that gives access to the hill, and continue to follow the stream of the Allt Achadh na Sine up the near bank."

Toilets. They're uncommonly useful things to have right at the start of a walk. Especially after four hours in a car. There's also a wee gazebo-type shelter affair at the car park which means you can sit down in comfort and put your boots on. Luxury. (The pond has seen better days, mind you). Here's the bridge:

The section after the second kissing gate is seriously boggy, even with a fair bit of frost around, and my gaiters were called into action almost immediately. You're better (we established on the way down) to stick closer to the burn side rather than the fence side for this bit. Things do improve a bit once you're past the final gate. Anyway, here's Andy following the instructions:

"2. Ascend the grassy hillside beside the stream for almost two kilometres, where the slope eases. Leave the stream here to avoid heading into a flat boggy area, heading north-northeast towards the shoulder ahead, Creagan na Laogh, which gives a steeper climb. From the flat top of this hillock with its tiny cairn, continue northwards across a shallow descent to climb once more, right up to the ridge of Fionn Bheinn."

The views keep opening up nicely as you get towards the flat bit.

To the south:

To the south west:

To the west:

That "flat boggy" description is accurate though. Again, we were lucky that there was a bit of snow and frost around that had firmed up the underfoot conditions, and I can imagine this would be unpleasantly squelchy in the summer. The snow was almost solid enough to fill in the gaps between the peat hags and tussocks. It was certainly making life easier for Molly who was skipping effortlessly over the surface...

...but not all members of the party were quite so fortunate:

When you're walking up the slopes of Creagan na Laogh, you get a nice view of Meall a' Chaorainn to the west. There's a bit of a cornice developing there:

The big hills to the north west were really too far away to photograph properly...

...even with the zoom turned up to 11:

The views south have opened up even more by now:

It is a fairly steep slog - well, in the snow anyway - up to the top of Creagan na Laogh, but once you're there the bulk of the work is done. These next photies were actually taken on the way back down to there, as it was just about now that the weather closed in, but technically they still count:

The bit of the route description that says you climb up to the ridge of Fionn Bheinn from there rather marked the end of the photo opportunities unfortunately. The weather had been rolling in, and suddenly it stopped rolling and decided to arrive. The ridge is just up there, next to that rocky outcrop though:

"3.Turn left along the ridge, which descends slightly before it begins the climb to the summit. The ridge is bounded on the north by the grassy crags of Toll Mor, the most dramatic feature of Fionn Bheinn and unsuspected in views from the road. The ridge curves slightly right to reach the summit trig point. Fionn Bheinn is 934 metres high, which makes it a Munro. There is a great view north to the Fannichs across Loch Fannich (the range to which Fionn Bheinn belongs, geologically), but the best prospect is that of the Torridon mountains from this unfamiliar angle. The quickest descent is to return the same way."

If we'd been there in the summer, we might have got the views, but it wasn't to be. This photie that I've stolen from Munro Magic shows you what you could've won...

...but this is what we were seeing:

On that basis there didn't seem a whole lot of point in hanging around at the summit trig point, albeit Molly - windblown and freezing or not - demanded a pictorial record of her 20th Munro:

It took us just under three hours to get up, and about an hour & a quarter to get back to the car. Apart from one brief gallop after a deer lower down the hill, Molly behaved herself, and there was no evidence of actual livestock once we got past the last gate. Those toilets were awful handy for the post walk change of clothes and general ablutions in preparation for the journey home.

Oh, and while Cameron might be right that there's not an awful lot in Achnasheen, it does boast a train station, and the view west from the platform must be one of the more enticing in Scotrail's stable.

A grand winter jaunt, I say.

Two new hills in two weeks!

2012-01-29T13:33:00.001Z

It's definitely a record in recent times. We're in danger of becoming actual hillwalkers again if this keeps up.

Report to follow on yesterday's long-distance assault on Fionn Bheinn at Achnasheen. In the interim, here's a picture of a labradoodle having a right guid time in the snow.

:0)

The Wee five year old Black Dug

2012-01-22T18:41:00.001Z

Time flies, eh?

The excitement of a new frisbee never diminishes though. :0)

Birthday Update:

Oh aye, there was cake later...

It's a doggy dog world, as Gloria says.

;0)

You can almost smell the Glasgow Apollo

2012-01-21T12:08:00.003Z

...although, like, I know it's not the Apollo, but what with the patched jeans, and the centre-parted long hair, and the lead breaks (that aren't really proper guitar player lead breaks but we didn't care) and the sideburns, and the waistcoat, and the bounce, (oh, the bounce!) and most of all - most of all - a proper drummer's semmit...this is almost like being there again.

This probably defined a fair bit of what I choose to call my, ahem, image through secondary school and University. And if I was still physically capable of growing my hair, then it probably still would.

:0)

It's an ill wind...

2012-01-17T20:44:00.002Z

What Alan Sloman says.

:0)

Incidentally, the Highland News has a nice quote from Cooncillor Prag(g?) as well. Not that I'm saying his impartiality is in question. That would imply some kind of doubt about the situation.

Making a meall of it

2012-01-15T21:05:00.001Z

09/05/2010

21/03/2011

15/05/2011

10/12/2011

but...

14/01/2011

Suffice it to say that it's a good job there's plenty of other photies of the place on here, because the weather yesterday was - despite the incredibly upbeat MWIS forecast - claggily bogging. The camera never came oot the bag.

I doubt I'll be back in Glenceitlin for a wee while.

;0)

Making the most of that rare day out...

2012-01-11T21:02:00.004Z

Route up Ben Vrackie:

Start at the Ben Vrackie car park which is just north west of Moulin. Turn left off the A924 immediately behind the Moulin Hotel and follow the road uphill and continue straight ahead at a junction, the car park is 300 metres on the right. From the car park follow the clear path uphill through beech trees. The path is well signed. Cross a track and continue uphill, skirting the woodland and turn left onto a small track. Cross another forestry track and follow the path across a bridge and through woodland until you pass through a gate onto the open moorland.The path crosses the heather moorland giving the first views of the summit of Ben Vrackie. Continue on the main path where a path heads off to the left. The track passes through another gate and continues gently uphill.The path now dips down towards Loch a' Choire. As you round the corner you can see the steep path climbing the side of Ben Vrackie on the other side of the Loch. After passing a beautifully carved seat on the left continue across the small dam and cross the outlet stream on stepping stones to start the climb to the summit.The climb to the top at 841 metres is steep but the path is excellent and the views across to Beinn a Ghlo and the Cairngorms beyond. There is a viewpoint marker at the summit so you can work out what you are looking at. The easiest return route is by the same outward path.

Slideshowy photies of same:

Ben Vrackie

2012-01-07T18:45:00.002Z

Oh, yes. Difficult though it may be to comprehend, Andy and I bravely disregarded the windladen, blizzardy MWIS prediction for today and ventured to Pitlochry to have a go at the local Corbett. We were armed to the teeth with crampons, ice axes, bothy shelters and the like, but in the event nothing other than a bit of wheezy footsore perseverance was needed to get us up to the top and back to the car in three & half hours.

I could get used to these 8am departures, and returning home while there's still enough daylight to walk the dugs. Are all Corbetts as user friendly?

;0)

First time out for a long, long while of course. The decision to leave all the mutts at home was still the right one I think, even though - as it turned out - they'd have been fine. There were just too many imponderables beforehand about the amount of snow and ice that we'd encounter to make it a worthwhile gamble. Next time.

Ultralightweight waterproofs

2012-01-06T22:48:00.002Z

I'm assuming you could just coat your pyjamas in it, and then wander straight up Ben Macdui. This'll keep the Jessiehikers happy, eh?
;0)

Lol

2012-01-04T20:15:00.002Z

I haven't seen the prequel at the cinema yet, but in the meantime this remake of one of my favourite ever films definitely does it justice.

:0D

...and lang may yer lum reek.

2011-12-31T22:34:00.002Z

Further to my last post...

2011-12-30T21:03:00.000Z

...I've decided I like this one as well.

Jings!

Random Stir-crazy Post

2011-12-30T18:54:00.000Z

I think the Weather Gods are now officially conspiring against me. Every tentative arrangement I've made over the holidays to try and get away for a walk has come to naught. Dispiriting.

On the other hand, it gives you even more time to footer around with the internet and come across stuff that you've got no interest in, but still find quite entertaining. Here's a chap playing American football, for instance:

:0)

Christmas Songs #3

2011-12-24T20:03:00.006Z

Predictable - who, me?

Christmas Songs #2

2011-12-23T21:49:00.002Z

Slight change of pace from yesterday. Nae laughin' now. Or indeed surreptitious greetin' up the back.
;0)

Christmas Songs

2011-12-22T19:00:00.001Z

I reckon the 22nd December is close enough to the big day to start the festive music classics, eh?

Here's the late, multifariously talented, Mel Blanc doing his Porky Pig thing.

(I think the woman you can hear in the backgound might actually be PHSL.)

:0)

Thought so.

2011-12-15T18:32:00.001Z

When me and Andy were coming back down Glen Ceitlin last Saturday, it occurred to me - not for the first time that day - that the frost/snow/cloud combination was making the world look rather monochromatic. I'd kind of assumed it was one of those effects of the natural light that wouldn't translate properly when it was photographed, but...this is black and white-enough looking to be going on with, if you ask me.

:0)

It's not always what you put in...

2011-12-14T21:42:00.000Z

...sometimes it's what you choose to leave out.

Happy birthday Cliff Williams.

;0)

Indian sign

2011-12-10T20:22:00.001Z

Four times. Four.

And it's not really as if Meall nan Eun is a notoriously difficult hill to get up. Unless you're me or Andy. Or indeed Gordy, now that I think of it, but he's only tangentially implicated in the first failure. ;0)

Regardless, we had a smashing five hour walk in the (as Andy put it) "upper reaches of Glen Ceitlin" today, so I'm still quite happy, embarrassment notwithstanding, to share a few of the photies that my new phone managed to come up with.

Disclaimer: this wasn't taken today. Today's road was worse!

Incidentally, if you're thinking about venturing

into that neck of the woods in the next few days,

be advised that the Glen Etive road is something

of a nightmare at the minute. Unsalted, untreated,

lined with fallen trees hurriedly amputated by the

Forestry folk to clear a car-sized path, and

largely perilous throughout, even for those of

us lucky enough to be travelling in appropriate

transportation.

Our Day Oot

There's deer here, honest!

I do like this one

The early turnaround meant we were home by 5pm. Hillwalks and brownie points. Better than ticks, I reckon.

Just...perfect

2011-12-08T17:01:00.001Z

For my sins I had to brave the rubbish weather to go to Dumfries Sheriff Court today. The journey was thoroughly unpleasant, but that's bye the bye. You do pass a few windfarms when you're travelling on the M74, and they clearly have some sort of bad weather braking system, as they were all moving, but almost imperceptibly. It's ironic enough, I was thinking, that when it's really windy you can't use them.

Imagine my delight when I got home to stumble across the BBC website "storm pictures" section. In case you can't be ersed flicking through them, the one I'm on about is this:

A huge round of applause to one Stuart McMahon, who was passing Ardrossan Windfarm at exactly the right time to take a photie that made me laugh like a drain.

Six honest serving-men

2011-12-03T22:04:00.001Z

In an almost unique attempt to voluntarily develop new work related skills, I've been at a three day mediation training course this week.

Which is, predictably, an excuse for another video...

Mind you, nobody was claiming mediation is absolutely infallible. Other options have to remain available...

;0)

Kentucky Rockers SECC Merchandising Strategy Increases Scottish Fanbase

2011-11-28T11:32:00.001Z

Band weekend

2011-11-26T10:21:00.001Z

Well, it's a bit miserable for the hills.

:0)

Off hand, I can't think of a better name for a band than "The Guilty Dogs". Although it's early in the day yet.

1400 hrs edit:
Hmmm. Kentucky Headhunters, eh?

1645: Now, notwithstanding what Wikipedia seems to think, Darius Rucker is not Hootie, and the rest of them aren't the Blowfish. They're called that as "an odd tribute to two South Carolina classmates—one had thick, owl-like glasses, while the other was known for his jowly appearance. "We weren’t thinking it was a name we would have forever," bass player Dean Felber admitted. "We thought we could always think of something better.""

Still; great name, great song, great bunch of lads with a highly developed sense of community responsibility.

1905: I'm not sure I'm going to be able to top Barenaked Ladies. I've put the song on here before...but it didn't have footage of the lovely Penny in it.

2200: I should, belatedly, probably clarify that all these bands appear one way or the other in recorded media that I've actually possessed at one time or another. I'm no' just surfing tinternet for ideas!

Talking of surfing though, I reckon we have a winner:

Thanks for listening.
:0)

Videos

2011-11-23T19:44:00.001Z

I've been on Youtube trying to get up to speed a wee bit with some modern, younger persons music. Me and Gordy are awa' to the SECC this Sunday to see an exciting triple header - Alter Bridge, supported by Black Stone Cherry and Theory of a Deadman.

No, I'm aware that none of them are likely to be doing guest spots on Strictly Come Dancing in the near future, but I would deny any suggestions that I'm too old to go and see them in concert. Anyway, while BSC (as we shall refer to them) are a particular favourite of mine, I've had relatively limited exposure to the other two so scouring internet videos seemed the sensible thing to do. I don't want to no' recognise the opening bars of any of their classics, and fail to cheer wildly at the appropriate moment.

And...it's all good - I'm looking forward to it enormously. I'll even get to wear the BSC t-shirt that I bought two albums ago, so I'll look like a real diehard fan. Sorted.

But I got distracted, and was looking for something...and found something else...which reminded me of something different...and then...I remembered posting one of Joe Cocker looking a bit the worse for wear so decided to redress the balance by posting one of him looking slightly better, if older and a bit warmer. Not only is it one of my favourite songs, I enjoyed the faces the guitarist pulls during his lead break.

And for the sake of completeness, here's some BSC that I prepared earlier.

Rock 'n' roll, eh?

Cairn Gorm

2011-11-20T11:07:00.001Z

Week three in the Big Brother Hillwalking Rehabilitation Programme House.

Following the two and a half hour Meikle Bin dauner, and the four and a half walk up Ben Venue, the stakes were raised somewhat with a nine hour sojourn to climb Scotland's sixth highest mountain. Which only involved three hours of actual walking. So I managed no bother.

;0)

Too windy for successful photography as it turned out - I have a plethora of blurry pictures of dugs if anyone's interested though.

Ben Venue

2011-11-15T18:51:00.001Z

Again!

In fact, it's been a fair wee while since I revisited an old favourite. What with the successful Meikle Bin campaign last week I elected - not for the first time - to ramp up the training with a return to the Trossachs. It was all rather leisurely, I have to admit. Another sober Friday night meant I was up and aboot at 7am on Saturday; in Tesco for brown rolls and salmon spread by 8:15; and packed and en route by 10. I left Molly at home, just in case two excited dugs proved too much for someone not yet quite firing on all hillwalking cylinders.

The route I followed, as ever, is the one set out here. The forestry track marker posts, incidentally, are pretty good, although it'd be easy to overshoot a couple of them if it was your first visit. You get your first glimpse of the target less than five minutes after you leave the car park:

Ben A'an through the trees:

You can't beat an atmospheric wander through a forest. There's sticks, for one thing. And fungi, for another.

Some of the previously hard-felled areas are starting to regenerate a bit, taking the edge off a couple of harsh looking sections.

Then more forest!

What have changed for the worse though are the underfoot conditions beyond the forest, all the way to the start of the climb proper. It's always been boggy, but...crivvens, there's a good forty minutes of uber-swampy sponge sprachling now. Deeply unpleasant - literally, albeit still displaying autumn palette colours...

The sensible advice would be to pick a line up the steep heathery slopes direct to the ridge as soon as you're able to do so (five minutes beyond the waterfall, basically), and I wouldn't be surprised if there'll be signs of a developing path there very soon. As usual though, I just ploughed my own furrow up the semi submerged traditional route. You can get too much excitement in the hills.

Once you reach the big cairn that sits on the low point of the ridge, the muddiest difficulties are over, and the views keep opening out.

And then you're up.

As a small point of interest, if you get this photo as big as it'll go you can just about make out the bump on the horizon that is Meikle Bin, where we were last week. (I've stuck in a subtle location aid.)

Hmmm. I wonder if I could form a chain of "previous week's visible hills" all the way from here to Ben Hope? It'd take a few weeks, right enough.
;0)

Rebooted

2011-11-08T19:40:00.002Z

More than once, over the years, a lay off from hillwalking for a few weeks has been followed by a gentle reintroduction involving a trip to the Kilsyth hills and a wander up Meikle Bin. Last Saturday felt like the right time to try that traditional approach, and happily I didn't keel over half way up.

Kudos to Andy for having the courage to accompany me, secure in the knowledge that he'd be the one that'd have to carry me three miles back to the car park if things - well, me rather than things - had taken a turn for the worse. This task would have been made no easier by the fact that we had five dugs with us.

A particularly big hand is due, I think, for the star of the show, Poppy the dachshund on her first Big Mountain Adventure.

No, I have nae idea

Five - count 'em, five!

Towards bigger hills

They're everywhere

This takes patience.

Ta-daaa!

Not to be outdone in the posing stakes

What a braw day out. I think I might take up this hillwalking lark.

:0)

Arf!

2011-11-05T17:42:00.000Z

Hee haw

2011-11-01T21:26:00.003Z

I must have signed up for a Twitter account in the dark old days when I took a drink, and used to enjoy myself footering about on the internet. Never actually used it, to my certain recollection. That, however is almost definitely about to change, because I have received a message thereon (therein? therefrom?). Anyway, I quote:

"kquoUQySS6 is now following you on Twitter!"

And what does kquo have to say? Well, excitingly enough, "I've got a big ass that just needs to be slapped around!" There's a picture of her too, and she seems quite personable.

And before anyone casts aspersions, I'm only going to reply because I'm a bit concerned about the welfare of her donkey, regardless of its stature.

I'd forgotten about this one...

2011-10-27T18:34:00.000Z

...a labour of love, I think.

:0)

Friends of the Famous

2011-10-26T17:59:00.002Z

A random visit to the BBC Scotland website today revealed this heart warming story - which a lot of outdoorsy folk had maybe picked up on from the original forum anyway.

However, as an added bonus - the icing of pictorial recognition on the cake of sterling effort, if you will - I can proudly reveal that the fellow walker mentioned in the phrase "I had a fellow walker drive all the way from Lanarkshire with his two dogs to search..." was none other than the bold Andy, pictured here with yet another dug.

Although he's not really searching for that one, more tormenting it with an apple.

;0)

I was impressed at the time. I'm even more impressed now that he's on the news. :0)

Gondolieri!

2011-10-24T20:19:00.000Z

Just prior to all the cardiovascular brouhaha kicking off, me and Andy had actually managed another day out on the hill, continuing what had, until muggins here started malingering, been a reasonably successful few walking weekends in a row.

Our plan on 24th September- such as it was - had been to head to Spean Bridge and then to Corriechollie farm with a view to having a go at Stob Ban in the Grey Corries. It was one of those drives north though that was characterised by two slightly hungover chaps gently veering towards talking each other out of a hillwalk, based not only on reasons of lack of peak physical conditioning, but also a pretty downbeat weather forecast, which had promised "considerable buffeting", together with increasingly wet conditions as the day wore on. I'm not saying we had definitely decided that the lure of the gear shops in Fort William was going to win out, but when the idea was mooted that rather than a 14 mile trek to pick off one new hill, we could investigate the delights of the mechanical assistance available at the Nevis Range and get up Munros number 6 and 7 while walking for about 6 miles...well, what are you to do?

Now the purists amongst you might beg to differ, but as far as I'm concerned, if there's an energy-efficient way to get to the top of some of Scotland's biggest hills then I'm likely to embrace it unreservedly. Plus it was a bit drizzly by that point.
:0)

It's £11 for the trip on the gondola, which is a bit steep, but which is also a lot less steep than actually climbing Aonach Mor from the car park. (See what I did there?)

I enjoyed the gondola. It certainly felt a safer option than the last time I made use of ski-related equipment.

We followed the route in Ralph Storer's book (predictably!) which points you to the track that runs across from the gondola station to the marked viewpoint of Meall Beag.

From there it's a case of picking a line upwards, keeping the ski tows and stuff to the left.

In summer you could actually just head straight up next to the tows, but I'm not sure, having come down that way, whether the underfoot conditions would be any less squelchingly slippy.

There was always some winter sports-related stuff to look at until we reached Aonach Mor's summit plateau - although I'm not claiming that it was consistently photogenic.

There were some slightly unexpected cliffy drops just after the last of the ski tow stuff...

...but the plateau itself is wide, level and offers enjoyable walking, even if the promised buffeting was now coming to fruition. The weather was thinking about closing in as we wandered on, but stayed away long enough to allow glimpses of Carn Mor Dearg etc over to the right.

The summit cairn sits about 100m back from the cliffs on the left.

There's more of a path to follow from here, and the added bonus is that there really isn't much of a drop to the bealach between the two hills. Atmospheric weather by now!

A brief clambery start to the ascent of Aonach Beag, by which time it was seriously wet and verging on wintry, and then a brisk 10 minutes or so saw us to our second summit.

It really is a relatively effortless way to get up these two hills, even taking into account the reascent when you're retracing your steps. And if you make it back to the gondola station by 5pm you get a hurl back doon as well.

The ideal day's hillwalking for those about to visit the coronary care ward, in truth.
;0)

Well now

2011-10-15T20:19:00.000Z

First off, thanks to the folk who left kind comments on what turned out to be a short-lived post on here a week or so ago. By way of explanation, it was cobbled together on my new phone, using what I understand is referred to by young persons as a "Blogger App", and I didn't entirely realise that I had published it rather than drafted it at the relevant moment. Or, indeed, at a subsequent relevant moment, that I had deleted it. It was also a rather attention seeking-sounding kind of thing, and it wasn't really meant to come across as that. In my defence, I was on quite a high dosage of morphine at the time. ;0)

At risk of further "look at me" type behaviour, I decided it would probably just be acceptable to set out on here the reasons why I've not been at my work for the last three weeks. That's mainly because this blog was always intended to be a genuine online diary - and it's been an eventful wee period - but also on the off chance that it might be mildly informative for any other folk of a certain age who find themselves compelled to wander into their local A&E department suspecting that the chest pains they're suffering from cannot, for once, be written off as indigestion.

It started with a wheeze, to coin a phrase.

I'd been crackling a bit when I was lying in bed of a morning for a few weeks, and it was also happening for the first half hour or so of my more recent hillwalks. Now, normally, because I'm a middle aged Scottish male, I'd have ignored such modest symptoms entirely, but I kind of knew something wasn't happening as smoothly as it should so I'd bravely arranged an appointment with my GP for the 30th of September. That was a Friday. On the Wednesday I woke up at 4am feeling like some ne'er do well had their hands round my throat, doing their level best to squeeze my tonsils up into the roof of my mouth. This singular sensation was accompanied, for good measure, by a crushing pain in my chest, which seemed to be radiating through to my shoulder blades."Oh aye." I thought, perceptively. "That's unlikely to be anything good."

I held the thought for the next couple of hours. There wasn't much else to do, given that I certainly wasn't about to fall asleep again. You know how somehow if you close your eyes these sore things pass, and you're fine once you get up? Well, that didn't happen. My powers of ignoring the patently obvious are well honed when it comes to personal health issues however, and when the alarm went off (not that I needed it) at 6 o'clock, I took the view that sticking to the normal routine of walking the dogs meant that I'd get a breath of fresh air, and everything would be hunky dory after that. This Plan B didn't pay off either.

In an effort to compromise/refuse to overload the NHS/act like a 24 carat idiot, I drove to work, and phoned the GP surgery to see if I could maybe bring my appointment forward a wee bit. To her eternal credit the nice lady at reception pretty much explained to me in words of one syllable that the symptoms I was relating to her warranted a fairly swift visit to the casualty Department at Monklands Hospital rather than popping doon to see my GP. So I drove down forthwith. I couldn't get parked anywhere, so I drove back up forthwith. I then walked down to the taxi rank on the main street. (Now, even I would accept that this brief wander was a tactical error, because by this point I was having extraordinary difficulty in breathing.) By lucky happenstance though, not only was there a cab free at the rank, but the driver was able to share with me that he himself had been the recipient of a heart transplant a few years ago, and based on the obvious nick I was in at the time, he fully expected that I'd be fine... "eventually". He stressed - wisely, I feel - that I should keep telling the receiving staff at A&E that I had chest pains. "Trust me", I rattled, with pained expression, "I'll no' miss and hit the wall about that".

The staff at Monklands were great. I particularly liked the observation of the young doctor in the "Emergency Receiving Unit" who said - with a straight face - "you see, you look like exactly the type of guy who should be having a heart attack, but for some reason I'm not convinced yet". I would have laughed at that myself, had it not been for (a) the excruciating pain, and (b) the fact that I didn't have the strength to pull the oxygen mask off at the time. It was however right around then that the morphine made its first appearance, and things were just fine after that. :0)

The next couple of days were more of the same; the good folk at the hospital doing their utmost via a battery of tests to work out whether I had actually had - or was perhaps still in the throes of - a heart attack, or whether it was Something Else. And broadly, as they made abundantly clear, just about any kind of Something Else is preferable.

The Wednesday night was officially no fun. They obviously have to keep checking your blood pressure, and monitoring your heart, and about 9pm the nightshift doctor said that they were going to transfer me to Hairmyres Hospital (the local "Coronary Centre of Excellence!") because there were a few odd things showing up in my most recent set of results. An hour or so later they told me the Hairmyres consultant had looked at the tests and I didn't need to go then, but I did have to get a special room of my own along the corridor. Full of high tech equipment, merrily beeping, hissing and bristling with alarms. For added effect, it was right next to the night shift nurses station. "Just in case", they told me. Even the morphine - which was now being dispensed liberally - couldn't quite tempt me to the land of nod against that background.

Thursday was Ultrasound day. It had good and bad points. The good bit was that it was quite relaxing, drugged up as I was. The other good bit was that they didn't think the scan showed evidence of a heart attack. The less good bit - well at that stage - was that it seemed to reveal that there was an enlargement of the aorta. Now, as it all turned out, this was absolutely nothing to do with the problem that had taken me to hospital in the first place; it was entirely coincidental. It's still not something you necessarily want to hear though when you're waiting for a diagnosis, and it's only the morphine that's getting you through the day.

Thursday night was the worst of all, for some reason. As the day wore on, the pain in my chest not only increased, but it also spread up into my left shoulder. You've got plenty of time to ponder things in hospital, and my ponderings led me to liken the pain to a situation that might prevail if pirates, rather than having parrots on their shoulders, opted for golden eagles, and then spent hours tormenting the self same eagles, so that they dug their talons in and tried to simultaneously take flight...that would come pretty close. Suffice it to say that I couldn't lie down, never mind try to sleep. On the plus side, I was able to sit on the edge of the bed, desperately gripping onto the frame so that I couldn't move an inch from side to side, and concentrating on not allowing my chest to rise or fall more than imperceptibly while breathing.

I've had more restful nights.

Friday dawned. Eventually. The morning routine was enlivened just after they took another ECG, and said I was being transferred to Hairmyres immediately for an angiogram. They stressed the word "immediately", but by this time I was feeling rather better than I had been (guess whether I'd had more morphine) so the bubbling-under sense of urgency was somewhat lost on me. It was an interesting half hour trip in the ambulance. They didn't actually turn the blue lights on, but the paramedic was staring at me with a degree of nervous intensity throughout the journey, and I choose to believe that his hand was hovering above the relevant button.
;0)

Those angiogram boys are fantastic. The whole experience is not unlike what I imagine you go through when you're captured by aliens and probed on the mothership. It's all lights, whirring machinery, extendable hydraulic booms and video screens. And a big remote-controlled needle burrowing its way up a vein in your arm. At least it was my arm - often they go in through your groin. They're also very matter of fact about it - "we'll go in, take a look, and if it has been a heart attack and the valves are damaged, we'll just fix them while we're there." You really can't ask for more than that, let's face it. The jet fighter pilots of the coronary care world, that's what they are. Mind you, I'm probably biased, because after the procedure was complete - and it only lasted about 15 minutes - they were able to tell me definitively that it hadn't been a heart attack. It's remarkable, although probably not surprising, how getting that news can cheer you up. Dr O' Rourke (or Maverick) did remark, mind you, that it wasn't surprising that there had been an almighty rush to get me over from Monklands given the "impressive anomaly" there had been on that morning's ECG. Hmmm. Still - what you don't know doesn't hurt you, eh?

Thereafter, things kind of got better - or certainly less fraught. The diagnosis, tentatively made earlier but only able to be confirmed post angiogram, was pericarditis.

The great joy - aye, right - of that particular condition is that it is, as my consultant said, self limiting. In other words you treat it with drugs and it's likely it'll just go away. A heart attack, au contraire, is not self limiting, and it can have a variety of outcomes...or indeed, in a vivid turn of phrase used by the doctor, "no outcome". I'll take my chances with the self limiting ailment, I reckon. (Oh, and there was fluid on my lungs as well, but that can be caused by the pericarditis. Or it was just another unfortunate coincidence. Get your Lucky White Heather here).

On the Sunday, they sent me for a CT scan, but by that time it was less to do with the pericarditis than the enlarged aorta picked up by the Ultrasound. The scanner's an impressive piece of technology as well, albeit not in the same sci-fi league as the angiogram machine. How can I put it? If they added big rotating brushes to it, it'd be like a car wash on the starship Enterprise.

Another couple of days of observation, medication involving 33 separate pills per day, a gradual lessening of pain, and I was eventually liberated to the bosom of my family - and dugs - on 3rd October. Under strict instruction to avoid stairs, dog walking, excitement...everything really, until the last day or so. Hoping to get back to work at the start of next week, although I'm conscious I'm hardly firing on all cylinders quite yet.

Which is why I felt I should gauge my ability to handle intense excitement by returning to the world of blogging first.

So - the pericarditis should clear up in due course. With the aid of the modest 8 different pills a day I'm on just now. The aorta thing is just to be kept under review - and I'd have known nothing about it without the unrelated hospital visit. Part of the recommended recovery regime is plenty of walking. That fits. Plus I've been off the drink for three weeks now, so on one view it's saved me a lot of money. :0)

It is rather embarrassingly "look at me" this, isn't it? Ach well, go for broke...

I need to stress again how fantastic the folk at Monklands and Hairmyres were. And it was awfy nice of all the people that came to visit me, and phoned me, and sent cards - it was much appreciated. And this award isn't just for me, etc, etc.

Here's to good health, eh?

:0)

Blogger borked

2011-09-26T18:17:00.001Z

The perfect visual balance and effortlessly stylish presentation on here seems a bit Donald Ducked, and Blogger isn't letting me change it at all. Which is a pity because it's lessening the likelihood of me telling you about Andy and me indulging in a bit of impromptu mechanically-assisted Munro bagging on Saturday.

I'll let the excitement build for a wee while to see if Blogger shakes itself back into life.
;0)

Other versions are available online...

2011-09-25T00:06:00.001Z

...including high definition stuff, apparently.

Still and all, lo-res or not, this chap's a chanter. With a band that's well at itself.
;0)

Middle Hill

2011-09-22T21:02:00.000Z

Having conquered the mighty Glas Allt Mor with dignity mostly intact, we started the climb up the refreshingly dry path leading towards the Hutchison Hut and thereafter Loch Etchachan.

The sun had chosen the moment to give the lie to the pessimistic MWIS forecast, and given the accumulation of water in my gutties at this juncture, its appearance was more than welcome.

The wee bridge over the Derry Burn didn't phase the WBD as it had done last time - clearly the memory of the recent river crossing had led her to the view that it was the lesser of two evils.

It didny bother Jim overly much either. ;)

This route up past the Hut is a well documented one, so suffice it to say that the path is well constructed; not too steep - that's "not too steep", rather than "not too steep" by the way - and leads pleasingly upwards to Loch Etchachan, the largest expanse of water above the 3000' mark in the land.

I'll be honest; it looks more impressive when it's icy. When its not, it's still hugely appealing, but you don't get the "crivvens!" factor that the presence of winter garb on loch and cliffs brings to the party. On the plus side of course, the absence of thin ice meant Jorja didn't have to be kept on the lead this time.

The plan had always been to decide at this point in the walk whether to head for Macdui, or come home over Derry Cairngorm. Time, fatigue levels and visibility were to be the determining factors. Now, we weren't going all that fast, and everybody was a bit knackered, but the weather looked like it'd probably hold up for a wee bit longer. The option to fit in Beinn Mheadhoin while we were up that far suddenly seemed to have something to commend it. The realisation that we could leave the rucksacks at the Loch put the proverbial icing on the cake, and the die was cast - two mid Cairngorm Munros for the price of one.

Irvine Butterfield says of Beinn Mheadhoin/Mheadhain (either is allowed, apparently):

"This great hill sits at the head of Glen Derry, looming large above the Coire Etchachan path, which provides a convenient ladder to its western end, where a broad back rises from the Loch Etchachan saddle. The south-west top is an unremarkable lump on the ridge, which continues to the actual summit, a huge tor surmounted by a teat-like excrescence, reached by an easy scramble on the rock's northern side."

There's all manner of excrescences up there, as one can see. This next yin's the actual top though:

I was a wee bit surprised that the dugs raced up the summit tor without a second thought, but that maybe says more about my attitude to heights than anything else. Anyway, up and down in jig time they were.

It's a singular kind of place, the summit plateau of Mheadhoin. A very tundraesque feel to it. That, coupled with the frankly bizarre rock formations, make it a fascinating place to potter around. The views aren't too shabby either...

...but we could see some heavy duty clouds broiling in from the west, so it was time to retrace our steps down to the loch and press on to Derry Cairngorm. It's about now, just as the weather is closing in, that you realise that you're around ten miles and four hours from the car park. We got to about 50 feet above the loch on the path that eventually leads to MacDui when the clouds caught up with us.

I've got no photies from that point on. All I'll say is that I thought I'd got wet on the way up Glen Derry. Nah. Wet's all relative.

;0)

Official Statistics

Left hoose: 6am

Distance walked: 31km

Ascent: 1230m

Walk time: 10.5 hours

Returned to hoose: 11pm

Fell asleep in front of telly: 11:35pm

Derry, down Derry (part 1)

2011-09-21T20:13:00.002Z

Or, more accurately, up Glen Derry, up Beinn Mheadhoin, then up and down Derry Cairngorm.

Before I start on the brief description of last Saturday's jaunt though, I bring you exciting news, guaranteed to improve the mood of central Scotland-based hillwalkers travelling the high road to Braemar, and in need of a restorative breakfast en route. The Tesco in Blairgowrie opens at 8am, and it's got a wee heated snacks cabinet where you can buy sausage and bacon breakfast muffins. Oh yes! Actually, exciting's hardly the word. For any number of reasons. Still.

Thus fortified, the onwards drive to Braemar was a doddle, and we were walking away from the Linn O' Dee car park by 9:30am. On reflection, the early part of the walk is already described here, so even if I had taken any photos of the three hour wander up the length of the Glen there would have beeen little point in going over old ground...however; if anyone has occasion to ask me in the future if it's a nice walk, bear in mind that if you catch it on the wrong day, when there's been a surfeit of rain, or snowmelt, then it's an enormously watery undertaking. It could be that I've mostly followed that route in winter, and the, er, fast-flowing path has been frozen over but this was a long drawn out soggy excursion, and no mistake. Had I not been singing Glen Derry's praises to Andy, Jim & Colin throughout our car journey north, I wouldn't have felt quite such a trumpet when the inundated reality came to pass. We - I say we, I mean I - had elected to go up the path on the east side of Derry Burn. I've got no idea whether the west side would have been a better idea, but it couldn't have been a wetter one. Me & Jim adopted the barefoot crossing method for the first section of white water flowing across the path (at about the point where it meets the descent route from Beinn Bhreac), but that was a one-off. If we'd had to unshoe then reshoe every time there was a temporary burnlet to negotiate, we'd have been there yet. In fairness though, we only shuddered to a complete halt once. The map indicates that the Glas Allt Mhor crosses the path just before the Lairig an Laoigh/Coire Etchachan fork, and this did prove to be a bit of a poser.

Andy managed to totter precariously over some largeish rocks right at the path. I wandered upstream for about 5 minutes, and found nothing more promising, so headed back. I passed Jim, who, possessed of what must be a keen eye for well hidden river-crossing opportunities, was making the last big leap of a remarkable succession of boulder hops. He was good enough to talk me through his foot placements, so I made it over as well, much in the manner (with apologies to AP Herbert) of an elderly, overweight chamois.

Colin, in the meantime, must have made about 300m of upstream ascent before he found a spot. ;0)

Never mind - all across eventually. And largely dryshod. Onwards and upwards! Except...the dugs were still on the far side, point blank refusing to follow. Another twenty minutes it took us to sort that one out. Jorja eventually plucked up the courage to have a mad dash through a shallower bit upstream, but Maura (Andy's black lab) was made of more sensible stuff. Why should she put her paws into a deep, roaring, rocky torrent? Why would she? Why would anyone?

Well, Andy would, to go and get his dug. Given that he had been the only one with the gumption just to cross the burn at the traditional point in the first place, and without getting wet, there was some slight irony in him having to wade through the bloody thing; put Maura on the lead and then wade back across towing her like a water skier. Irony, not humour. I'm stressing that.
;0)

Tomorrow - tors!

Ooh, me feet!

2011-09-18T21:01:00.001Z

On Thursday evening, during the planning meeting, the idea to try and get another big Cairngorms day squeezed in before we run out of daylight seemed altogether splendid. And yesterday was a fine expedition. Andy's calculated that it was about 20 miles of walking and 4000' of ascent.It doesn't seem quite such a good idea now, when I could do with an early night, and I seem to have insufficient strength in my legs to get up the stairs. Trip report to follow. In the meantime, here's the Wee Black Dug making her first ever "off the lead" visit to Loch Etchachan.

:0)

Rain stopped play.

2011-09-09T19:33:00.000Z

I actually think I'm needing to get away for a proper walk for the sake of my mental and physical wellbeing, but the currently forecast 65mph windspeed (which is, admittedly a reduction from the earlier forecast 80mph windspeed) means that's not going to happen tomorrow.If I'm feeling brave enough I might have a wee adventure on Meikle Bin though. I'll take tent pegs to nail the dugs down at the summit.So, in the meantime, what to do to cheer myself up? Scour t'internet for long forgotten comedy favourites? Overcome Channel 4 copyright directives? Offend everybody south of the border?Absolutely.

January 24, 1947 – September 7, 2003

2011-09-07T19:54:00.000Z

Blairgowrie and Rattray Highland Games

2011-09-05T20:15:00.000Z

To use the full Sunday name, that is. A right good day out, helped by the fact it was the first dry day for about a fortnight.

The constant stream of riders and runners firing round the edge of the Heavy events field called for some careful choreography to avoid anybody getting shot-putted.

The annual mob-handed tug o' war grudge match between Blairgowrie and Rattray

Steward's Enquiry at the hammer throw

Traditional WWF heilan' wrestling

Runner Up, best bitch in show!

The Ardblair Highlanders getting set up

That's their leader. Sporrantastic.

Can you guess which one of these folk is Laurence Blair Oliphant of Ardblair and Gask?

These boys were indeed knocking seven bells out each other with big swords

It's all gone wrong for Robert Plant

Alba gu brath!!!!!

Alba gu brath indeed. Pity it was the day after the Czech Republic game.

;0)

Fun and games

2011-09-04T20:07:00.003Z

We had an afternoon at the Blairgowrie games today, and it all turned out rather enjoyably. I'll post a couple of photies later, but in the meantime just wanted to share with you a picture of a pony dressed up as a dug. I mean, his owner said he was an Irish wolfhound called Tiny, but you just don't get dogs this size, do you?

Fantastic. :0)

Youse are in for it now

2011-09-02T12:26:00.001Z

It appears one can blog from ones new phone whilst one is on the move. Assuming this test works of course!

Be careful out there

2011-08-31T21:20:00.003Z

From Grough

171 bloody Munros, and I've never seen an adder.

:0(

It cheers me up, at any rate.

2011-08-27T23:14:00.000Z

Nexus S

2011-08-27T22:56:00.000Z

I've just got myself a brand new all singing and dancing, 24 carat, pure Google experience, genuine unadulterated Android Smartphone. I've had it for two whole days, and I've spent hours exploring all the fantastic possibilities that it affords me.

The good news is that I've worked out how to use it to phone people.

Message ends.

Monadh Mor

2011-08-22T22:16:00.002Z

A combination of circumstances meant that if I was walking last Saturday it would have to be a solo effort - canine company excepted. This led to the usual Friday evening "will I or won't I" internal debate, factoring in such variables as the weather; how early I could be bothered getting up; how far I could be bothered driving; and the likelihood of getting me or the dug shot, given that the stalking season is now upon us. What bubbled to the top of that particular melting pot was the Cairngorms, and Monadh Mor in particular. Me and Andy had enjoyed a day out on its neighbour last year, so given I only had a one hill target, it seemed to make sense to approach it from the Glen Feshie side rather than Linn O' Dee, just for a change.

It's about two & three quarter hours from the house to the carpark at Auchlean, which included a ten minute stop at the Newtonmore transport cafe for a roll and bacon for yours truly, and a roll and sausage for the Wee Black Dug. For all I know, that was the highlight of her day.

I've been up the Foxhunters path twice before, and it was in reasonable nick then, but clearly not up to the required standard, because they've got the Cooncil in.

I don't know quite why, but I was finding the walk incredibly heavy going from the outset. It's not especially steep, and it's fairly consistent, but my legs were rebelling and my lungs were soon threatening to come out in sympathy. I kind of decided that once I got to the top of the path, below Carn Ban Mor, I'd probably have to take a view on whether to curtail the day, and perhaps head over to Sgor Gaoith instead - Jorja's never done that one, so it wouldn't have been a total write off.
;0)

As it turned out I got my second wind (probably not unconnected with the fact that I started going downhill too) and as the MWIS-promised lack of clouds was beginning to look more likely, the decision was made to boldly press on.

There's an unusual feel to this walk, somehow. I'd read (in an extract from one of Irvine Butterfield's books) that doing this hill, Beinn Bhrotain, and Carn Cloich-mhuillin from the Glen Feshie end is "perhaps one of the most psychologically intimidating walks in Britain". Now, I was only after one of the three, admittedly, but nevertheless there's definitely a feeling of vulnerability about the route.

I've had long walk ins before - indeed the approach to Beinn Bhrotain is a trek, and the day we did Cairn Toul et al was another example...but this was different. I was trying to work out why, but the best I can come up with is the effort involved at the outset; in conjunction with the lack of any real sense as to what you're taking on. If you walk in from Linn o' Dee or White Bridge, it's flat, and you can see the hills coming, as it were. You have an hour or more walking towards them, to get used to the size of them, and the scale of things. Going up the Foxhunter's Path you can't really see anything in front of you, other than path. Pretty much all of a sudden, somewhat knackered already, you pop out on the start of the plateau and the vista of the Moine Mhor opens up in front and around you. It's then that you catch your first glimpse of some Really Big Hills that are still Really Far Away - and you realise that you're expected to walk pretty close to them before the day's over.

It gives you pause for thought, right enough.

There's still a path to follow, which takes you down, and then up, to a junction with a landrover track. Sgor Gaoith is an impressive shape from just about anywhere on the Moine Mhor.

More impressive, certainly, than boring old flat-topped Cairn Toul, which hoves into sight further down that track.

;0)

The route I was following was a sort of combination of the Walk Highlands recommendation, and bits of a Cameron McNeish newspaper article. It turned out the best of both worlds, because by heading over to Loch nan Cnapan...

...rather than going over Tom Dubh I avoided some seriously boggy, marshy ground that was clearly causing some consternation to the nice folk that I later met at the summit:

The route I chose was still tussocky and wet in places but you could pick a route through it, pretty much staying on slightly higher ground all the way to the Allt Luineag. Everything I had read about the routes up this hill pointed out that this burn was unexpectedly sizeable for somewhere this high up, and cautioned that it can sometimes be tricky to cross. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. My £2.45 Tesco "Croc-a-likes" were the very dab.
:0)

It's the first time I've ever adopted that sandal carrying approach, and it was infinitely preferable to the usual "fill yer boots" scenario, or indeed the tense twenty minute windmill armed slippery rock balancing performance that's the general alternative. I aye get wet feet, so why not embrace the fact, allow them to dry, then put your socks and shoes back on? Refreshing, that's what it was. Maybe not a winter tactic though.

It was probably around now, flushed with the success of conquering the mighty Allt Luineag, that I realised I was actually going to get to the top of the hill, the initial laboured wheezing up the Foxhunter's Path being a mere memory. It's a straightforward not too steep wander over boulderfields with grassy intervals, and the views keep opening up and up and up.

The summit's a place to linger.

And after that, all there is to it is the nine miles back to the car.

Ach - that wee bit only takes a couple of hours.

And the last hour is all downhill.

I consider last Saturday fully seized.

Moine Mhor

2011-08-21T12:28:00.000Z

An optimistic MWIS forecast for the east of the country yesterday led me to decide on a wee jaunt Cairngormwards - but not from Linn o' Dee, for once. I'll sort out a trip report shortly, but in the meantime, here's the Wee Black Dug in the middle of the Moine Mhor, on the way to Monadh Mor. Mor later.

Missed a trick

2011-08-18T17:42:00.000Z

From the Telegraph: "After selling millions of records, the band has teamed up with Australian winemakers Warburn Estate to release a series of wines.

The varieties, grown in the Barossa and Coonawarra regions in Australia and the Marlborough region in New Zealand, include Highway to Hell Cabernet, Back in Black Shiraz and You Shook Me All Night Long Moscato.

In promotional material, the shiraz is described as delivers "spice and dark berry, performing like a world tour taking centre stage" and the moscato is said to be "perfect for lady rock fans".

AC/DC, which is fronted by brothers Angus and Malcolm Young, is one of the highest-selling bands of all time and have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

The wine will be stocked across Australia in Woolworths supermarkets."

I can't describe how disappointed I am that the Daily Mail got there first with the headline Whole Lotta Rosé.

;0)

Beinn Fhionnlaidh

2011-08-11T19:57:00.011Z

There are two of these, one in Glen Affric, and the one that sits in Glen Etive - or Glen Creran depending on which book you look at. We had carefully avoided the slog to the Affric one the last time we were up there, so it seemed in order to redress the balance a wee bit by having a go at its namesake last weekend.

Now, I know I've been banging on somewhat about Ralph Storer's books recently, but it's only fair to point out that - uniquely - he's quite enthusiastic about this hill, identifying as he does a rather enjoyable way to get up it. Every other site/book/blog describes a day out involving either a trudge through Glen Etive forestry, or an uneventful plod up the length of the west ridge.

Mr Storer's made of more optimistic stuff:

"We're going to let you in on a little secret. The south side of Beinn Fhionnlaidh harbours an idyllic Lost Valley, similar to its counterpart in Glen Coe, that can be visited en route to the summit. We shouldn't really tell you about it, so please don't tell anyone else."

Ah.

Ach, maybe he'll no' mind. It's all publicity, eh?

Moving swiftly on.

Start from the traditional car park at Elleric, and head towards Glenure House. Try not to forget your camera, or you'll need to indulge in a brisk walk back to the car. It would be churlish to to name and shame, obviously.

Once Gordy caught up, we followed the signs past Glenure House and then turned left on the landrover track that sits at the end of the private road. Beyond a wee bridge a grassy track appears on the right, which takes you through a patch of forest. (The good news is that I'm not actually giving away any secrets yet, because this is the way you go if you're climbing the hill by the west ridge.)

The cunning twist however is that rather than heading on up the aforesaid ridge...you don't. You just sort of head east, (down near the River Ure in our case) and then do a north eastish traverse, to follow the burn called the Allt Bealach na h-Innsig. Or "that smaller burn" as we were referring to it. You'll come across the path again (if you ever lost it in the first place) when the burn gets a bit closer to the crags on the south of Beinn Fhionnlaidh.

Even if you've never been in a lost valley before, you'll recognise one when you see it. Which pretty soon you will.

A pleasing spot altogether.

Lunch taken, a further ten minutes or so walking brings you to a hanging lochan which is picturesque from pretty much every angle.

Andy reckons there's certainly brown trout at least in it, and even I could see a fish or two rising every now and then. And other stuff.

What with that, the largest congregation of butterflies I've ever seen when I've been out walking, and some bright blue common damselflies (nature notes are all courtesy of Andy, of course) there's plenty to hold the interest. The kindly weather we were having was playing its part too, mind you.

It had been a jolly entertaining wee dander thus far. There was however a nagging realisation that part of the reason it had been such good fun was that we hadn't really gained any height yet. Ralph has the onward directions from there spot on:

"Once past the last of the crags, make a steep rising traverse on grass, climbing 1000ft to the saddle at the foot of the east ridge."

It was a slow rising traverse we made, I'll give you that.

The views from the saddle are worth it though. It's an unusual vantage point for Glencoe, and all the better for it.

What with that vista on the north, and Starav, Cruachan et al to the south...

...you're in the right place for some seriously muscly mountain action. You can even catch a glimpse of Ben Nevis a couple of minutes later, and a couple of metres higher up...

Once you've got to that point, the hill's as good as done.

One last wee pull to the summit ridge - with a scrambly step for them as likes such things

- and Finlay's Hill trig pillar pops into view.

For once our timing had been impeccable, as it wasn't until then that the forecast heavy showers elected to show up.

It's never as depressing heading towards the car in the rain, if you ask me. It has to be said though that the way down the west ridge was largely pathless - slightly to my surprise bearing in mind it's one of the main ascent routes. In summary, it was grassy, boggy and slopey. (Three of the seven dwarves of Munro bagging.)

A grand day out. A highly recommended route up the hill. If I'm honest it wasn't a Munro I was particularly looking forward to given its advance press, but the Lost Valley, and the views from the saddle are genuinely memorable.

If Molly hadn't shut her eyes during the best photo opportunity of the day, it'd have been even better.

;0)

The long way home from Inveraray

2011-08-09T20:22:00.002Z

We took - well, not the scenic route, because they're all quite fetching - but the XL route home from the holiday. South west, then north, through Lochgilphead to Kilmartin.

That's another favourite place. Not only do they do a mean fruit scone at the museum, but it was the scene of one of my finest moments, when I got my dry stone dykeing certificate after an intensive two day residential course. Honest.
:0)

Anyway, everybody should visit Kilmartin at least once. You can feel the history seeping into your pores. Which isn't something that happens every day.

Continuing on the Oban road for a while, the notion took us to hang a left and have a wee look at Seil Island. Or Seil, at any rate. There's not a huge amount there, but in addition to the pub, there's a bridge...

...a sign...

...and a wooden heid.

All you could reasonably ask for really.

Going for broke, we went home via Oban, Dalmally, Tyndrum, Crianlarich and the Drovers at Inverarnan where we managed to fit in an early dinner. See us? See whistle stop tours of Scotland?

;0)

Snaps

2011-08-07T15:51:00.001Z

A few photos from last weeks jaunt to Inveraray.

Looking across the bay in Loch Fyne towards the bridge

Vital Spark & Arctic Penguin


People-watching at the junction

Posing

Fechtin'

A Big Gun, recently

Inveraray Castle

It's a nice spot, on a nice bridge

Now, that's what a tree in the grounds of a castle should like like.


After the castle it was back to the fleshpots of the town itself

Looking down the length of Loch Fyne. The craggy summit of The Cobbler is visible on the top right.

Molly wasn't interested in the view - she decided to make an early start on the trip home. :0)

Caledonia King Bed

2011-07-31T11:32:00.001Z

We do like the George in Inveraray, so it was nice for me & Marion to get a couple of nights there to round off the week's holiday. A very dog friendly place, which is essential if you're soft like us and won't even consider the possibility of putting them into kennels. That's why we see so much of Scotland.

One word of warning though - split level bathrooms with wooden floors are hugely attractive and olde worlde...but remember to properly dry your feet before you try and negotiate the stairs, eh?

Ooyah.

:0/

Gulvain

2011-07-25T22:53:00.009Z

A single word title seems appropriate, because this is a hill that stands alone in more ways than one. It's miles from the road, and its summit seems to afford a view of the whole of Scotland. Splendidly isolated, if you will.
;)

The first bizarre fact to note is that some translations give the name as hill of faeces, and in a shocking coincidence, no sooner had we drawn up at the relevant layby to park than the Wee Black Dug was assailed by a fit of the dihorheea-hyhay. Most unlike her. She's the perfect food processing machine, usually.

Anyway, with that in mind, and the knowledge that it was going to be a richt roasting hot day, and the concern that Jorja might just dehydrate on me, it was with some trepidation on my part that we set off to follow the inch perfect walkhighlands route description.

As things transpired, the heavy going was nothing to do with the dug. This has to be one of the hardest "single Munro" days I've done. I suppose a sense of perspective is gained when you look at the book once you're back home. Ben Nevis via the Pony Track involves 4494 feet of ascent and 9.2 miles of walking. Gulvain - the minx - requires 4593 feet of ascent and 13.5 miles covered. The real problem though is that about 4000 foot of that uphill feels like it comes in the space of one of those miles. Steepish, one might say.

Most of the route descriptions say that on the upside, the views back down the glen open up quickly. Bollocks to that, say I. There's plenty of time to look at the lovely glen on the return journey, when you're not engaged in a battle with gravity that's sucking the air from your lungs and the sinew from your thighs. Zig zagging like a dervish - or something - still only helps a little. Make no mistake, this is proper "walk-up-a-hill" hillwalking.

For those of you who have dugs, it's probably worth noting two things.

1. If you take enough spare water - and a bowl, obviously - to see your faithful companion up the steep section, to the bump before the Munro Top, you'll be fine - there are a few (muddyish) pools between there and the summit, parched dugs for the use of.

2. There's a big random ram that's currently lurking in the bealach between the Top and the summit ridge. The good news is that it seems to be immune to the panic-bolt fear that most sheep display when confronted by a surprised, excited dug. In other words, "it won't take a chasing". The slightly less good news is that it clearly has the wherewithal to compose itself and then launch a counter attack on the dug in question. I mean, on neither occasion did they come within 10 yards of each other, but it adds a level of tension to the day that one could do without.

Once you're up at the first Top...well, you're up. It's a fantastic walk (in the glorious sunshine, certainly) from there down to the bealach and then up and over the ridge to the summit. For the avoidance of any doubt, the descriptions in some books that the ridge "narrows considerably" after the bealach are technically correct, but even a fully paid up member of the Don't Do Narrow Ridges Club like myself didn't have any concerns about the thing when I was there.

The views from the summit are genuinely almost overwhelming on a day like last Sunday. You can see everywhere. If I ever get two weeks to myself I'll maybe try and work out all the visible landmarks, hills, lochs etc. A great walk. My muscles are finding it hard to agree, but a great walk nonetheless.

Six hours driving, seven and a bit hours walking. Well worth it, say me and the WBD.

Hot, wet and black

2011-07-24T21:51:00.002Z

Jorja on Gulvain today.

What else could it have been?

Learning Curve

2011-07-18T17:45:00.003Z

Young Dave getting schooled in the art of being a cat today by big Bob.

:0)

Careful now!

2011-07-16T18:28:00.005Z

I was restocking my hillwalking first aid kit, seeing as how I actually walked up a hill last week. It's just a basic homemade collection of the usual bits & pieces. Rennies, mainly. ;0)

But look:

£4.72 - Go Outdoors


£1.69 - Aldi

You'll probably guess that I got the first lot, whereas Marion came home with the Aldi alternative.

Rip off plasters. As it were.

Down with this sort of thing!

Ralph Storer Made Me Do It

2011-07-11T19:14:00.007Z

Sort of.

You might remember me extolling his Munros Guides elsewhere. Well, a section of the book that particularly caught my eye was - predictably enough - the part containing instructions on how to get to the top of Sgorr nam Fiannaidh and Meall Dearg without troubling the tricky little section in between. It's two separate days oot, admittedly, but well worth it if you ask a nervous hillwalker like myself. I took great comfort from the following passage:

"Let's get one thing straight: giving the Aonach Eagach a bodyswerve does not diminish your hillwalking credentials. Just because you have your mind set on higher matters than groping rock all day doesn't mean you have to hang up your boots and go lie on a beach. There are too many guidebooks...that devote no more than a derisory sentence or two to any way of bagging the two Munros other than by crawling like a knuckle-grazing proto-humanoid across their connecting ridge."

See, he can get away with saying that because he's no' scared to do it in the first place. I'll confine myself to simply applauding the sentiment.
;0)

Thus it was that last Saturday saw me and Molly (it was her turn, much to the Wee Black Dug's chagrin) set off for Glencoe, and a handy carpark next to an electricity substation place just along from the village on the minor road that leads to the Clachaig.

The route description in the book is spot on, as ever. Through a gate, up a landrover track, turn right across a bridge, turn left two streams later, and follow the path till it runs out. Given the unexpectedly fine weather we had, once you get to the bealach between the lower slopes of Sgurr nam Fiannaidh and the Pap of Glencoe, the onward route was obvious, path or no path.

It was a busier walk than I had thought, but that's probably partly because it seems the best approach route to the Pap as well. A lot more folk coming down, than going up, for obvious reasons. And they were all understandably delighted to be coming down other than by helicopter.

It was a cracking walk for Molly - no livestock issues on the hill, and nothing fall-offable at this end, even for excited labradoodles.

Plus, I was able to do my civic duty by giving three hardy souls who had done the hill the traditional way a lift back to their car at Allt-na-reigh.

A good day, all told. Especially as I had been doing my best to talk myself out of a walk at all on the Friday night. Andy's been a bit no' weel the last week, so it meant a solo jaunt, and the forecast wasn't great, etc, etc. As it turned out the weather was much better than MWIS wanted me to believe, and as Andy will no doubt want to do the bloody ridge when he climbs the hill, which means I'll be nowhere near Glencoe that day, it all worked out for the best.

;0)

Anyway - dug photos:

Fresh as a daisy

Looking back towards Glencoe village

Posing relentlessly in front of the Pap

Caught unawares by the camera. For once.

Slightly less than daisy-fresh now. Bidean behind her.

The onward route from the subsidiary top

Flagging a trifle. Sitting doon now. Bidean again, incidentally!

Dug, bit of ridge, bit of Glencoe

Dug, big bit of ridge

Big bit of ridge, very wee folk

Molly at the summit

A rare photie of blogger and dug

The route back down - the path has slightly lighter coloured rocks in it!

Two minutes later the mist rolled in

Words fail me. Five minutes fom the car, she was.

Man In "Return to Hillwalking" Shock!!!

2011-07-09T20:27:00.001Z

Tis true.

I would - as I'm sure youse all know - ordinarily have done the Aonach Eagach without a second thought, seeing as I was up on one end of it, but Molly didny fancy going any further and was casting anxious glances back towards the car at Glencoe village.

:0)

More tales of my return to form later.
;0)

In the meantime, I met these nice folk today en route. It's a considerable undertaking for a genuinely worthwhile cause, so feel free to send them a couple of bob.

Feline depredation

2011-07-05T20:42:00.002Z

No, it's not a play on words.

:0(

We've been enormously careful with the cats during the nesting/breeding/fledging season. Five of them in the house means it can be a tense wee while, but so far this year there'd only been one casualty - and I think it was a wee blue tit that had overestimated it's powers of flight, if I'm honest.

Bit of a setback today when a quick look out into the garden revealed a covering of feathers on the grass, a very dead woodpigeon, and a rather gory-looking Dave the cat.

Woodpigeons are particularly guilt inducing when you can see the bereaved mate flapping around nearby.

Bloody cats.

Strings and how to use 'em.

2011-06-27T16:28:00.003Z

Carlsberg don't do housebands...

2011-06-26T17:10:00.001Z

See, what's happened here is that the new computer actually plays videos properly, so at long last I'm acquainting myself properly with Youtube.

There may be more Stevie Ray Vaughan stuff as the night progresses.
;0)

Intermission

2011-06-26T09:28:00.000Z

Not that it's been exactly busy on here recently, but I thought I should record that I've just got myself a new computer, and I'm about to ceremonially unplug this one.

So it might get even less busy for the foreseeable future.

:0)

Awfy busy

2011-06-16T21:12:00.002Z

I know I don't have a proper job, where you really have to work in the true sense of the word, but there's a wee bit on just at the moment.

So sometimes you've just got to take a minute and listen to an old favourite.

Even if it's an old favourite that can make you greet.

;0)

A second mortgage for sunflower hearts.

2011-06-11T17:24:00.002Z

We kind of knew that the greenfinches were getting through a lot more of them than they usually do.

:0/

The barber's weans are eating again.

2011-06-07T20:25:00.002Z

Or the dug groomer's, at any rate.

Whisper it, but they even gave her a wee pink bow...

;0)

Creag Meagaidh

2011-06-06T19:54:00.002Z

There's been a bit of a hiatus on here recently; partly because I've not been anywhere for a few weeks and partly because other stuff - work, gardening, hangovers - has been taking up a fair bit of time.

It's still rather like that at the minute, so this is a flying visit just to put up the photies taken on yesterday's trip with Andy & Colin to Laggan. In the medium of an internet slideshow, no less!!!

Note the complete absence of dugs - that just about never happens.

Report to follow when things are less fraught.

:0)

Cuddies

2011-05-26T19:05:00.001Z

There's often interesting stuff on the Biomes blog that I link to in the sidebar there, but I was particularly taken with the Horse photies.

Stunning. Makes a change from hills, too!

Bookends

2011-05-21T23:04:00.005Z

It must be about 15 years ago that I first saw Kingpin.

I'm relatively highbrow when it comes to films, so I was, accordingly, braying like a donkey throughout.

The thing that stuck with me most of all though, was the harmonica playing that was soaring over, through, and out of the end credits. In the days before tinternet it took a wee bit of detective work to find out the source, but on the strength of what I discovered, buying this was hardly a gamble:

Anyway, I was doing a bit of musical housekeeping today, and came across the CD, and thought I'd stick the song on here, so asked Youtube, and...well...first result up is where I came in!

Stuff that works

2011-05-20T21:38:00.004Z

I meant to mention after last weeks uber-soggy adventure that a couple of the bits of kit I had proved themselves again, in "real time" testing.
;0)

Now, I was utterly sodden, soaked to the core but that Finisterre baselayer was already starting to dry out after the first few minutes back at the car, which were spent faffing about changing boots, breeks etc. I'd elected to get my bottom half into dry clothes first, not least because it meant I could keep my waterproof jacket on during the process. I don't know why - I couldn't have got any wetter - but it seemed to make sense at the time.

Anyway, the point is that although the Brisa was as wet as everything else, it wasn't too cold or too clammy and I'd be willing to bet it wouldn't take unduly long for your bodyheat to dry it out to an acceptable extent as soon as you're under cover. I can hear you saying that I could have tested that theory oot properly by leaving it on while we travelled home in the car; and you're right; but as you weren't there you can't truly understand what a miserable day out it had been, and how, accordingly, I was in no mood to put up with even the slightest water-related discomfort for a moment longer than necessary.

I'll do that another day, honest. ;0)

The other big hit of the day (and I've been meaning to sing its praises for ages) was my Paramo Torres gilet.

I've had this for years, and I think it's a fantastic thing altogether. The whole point as you can see, is that you stick it on over all your other layers for insulation, and that it works just as well whether you're dressed in a baselayer and just need a wee bit extra warmth for a sandwich stop, or you're swathed in every item of clothing that you've brought with you, including your soaking waterproof jacket, and you need to retain as much core body heat as possible to get back to the car without expiring. I've often found that I stick it on at a summit, and keep it on thereafter at least until I'm well on my way back to the start of a walk. If wherever you are is cold wet & windy (and let's face it, what Munros aren't?), it's not too warm to wear while on the move.

It's literally a comfort blanket. Except it's not literally a comfort blanket.

The one I've got is the original version, and it weighs in at 490g. The keen eyed amongst you will spot that the link above suggests the "average weight" (across the size range) is 370g. I doubt that very much, and interestingly the Paramorians also claim that their new Torres Gilet Lightweight comes in at an average of 330g. There's something no' right there, I fear. However I of course care not a jot for weightsaving claims: all I can say is the full fat version I own works a treat. And it's got more insulation, which is rather the point of the thing.

The blurb mentions that the thing packs down into its own chest pocket for storage, and that's undeniably true...

...but I've never really found a better way of packing it in a rucksack than just stuffing it in loose - it sort of fills up unused space if you do it that way. It's not, and doesn't lay claim to be, waterproof but in all the times I've had occasion to wear it it's never become saturated and it's never failed to do it's impressively insulaty stuff.

Torres Top Tips:

1. After a year or so I managed to break the two way front zip. The downside to this is that you can't unzip it completely, because the bottom zip puller won't disengage altogether. The upside is that I promptly discovered that by leaving both pullers together, roughly midway up the zip, you can don the thing over your head like a smock, rather than struggling to "do the zip up" with consequent excessive and embarrassing flappage on seriously windy hilltops.
2. The side pocket zips are "top to bottom" rather than the usual way round. I thought I'd sussed the perfect use for that feature - if you like walking with your hands in your pockets you can pull the zip down to rest on your wrist and create a sort of draught seal.

Further research reveals that the solo walker can do that with one of the zips.
;0)

This is becoming a habit.

2011-05-15T20:38:00.005Z

When we went to Stob Coir an Albannaich, the original plan had been to do Meall nan Eun as well. It was a mixup over the time we had available that put paid to that idea, and I think the fact that it looked really easy - really really easy - from the summit of Albannaich may have prompted us to think that it was a hill we could save up for shortish days, because it's not too far from home, and you can do it on its own.

Aye, right.

Since then we had Snowgate, and then today - well - it rather rained on our parade.

I'm genuinely not sure I've ever been as wet when I've been hillwalking. Admittedly, in addition to heavy rain, galeforce winds had been forecast, but despite five hours walking, we didn't quite get high enough to decide on the veracity of the latter part of that prediction. Regardless, today was one of the rare outdoorsy forays where there was really nothing positive that we could take from the experience.

Except maybe that Molly, big water dug that she is, was in her element.

(This looks better if you click it!)

That's not an official waterfall behind her, by the way - it's just this afternoon's rain making its way aff the hill.
;0)

Poor Poor Pitiful Me

2011-05-13T21:24:00.003Z

Aye, well, the post from last night has unilaterally elected to return to the bosom of the blog.

Hackers. That's who'll be to blame!

Or should I feel a bit pathetic because I had no idea what was going on?
;0)

Dat darn Kahlfin stole ma spacechip!

2011-05-13T21:14:00.003Z

That's a first.

I posted a (somewhat maudlin', admittedly) thing about Calvin & Hobbes last night, with a couple of embedded links...and it seems to have disappeared.

It was definitely there at one point, because there's links to the title of it on some other blogs.

I sense that the genius of Bill Watterson extends to cyber copyright matters. (And quite right too.) It's either that, or I've pressed some sort of delete button. But that's hardly likely, given my aptitude for all things computery, as we know. Hmmm.

Ach, I'm going to revel in the idea I'm a lawbreaker. Whit'll they call me?

Baselayer Frenzy Part 1: Finisterre Brisa

2011-05-02T20:59:00.003Z

I had mentioned in passing when I reviewed the Peter Storm breeks that I'd also been sent a baselayer to try out. It was another of their own brand items, a thermal baselayer. Now, what with the unseasonably clement weather we've been having north of the border over the last wee while I haven't had the opportunity to actually test the thermal aspects, but first impressions were that it's a jolly soft, not too clingy, just-the-job-for-wearing-next-to-the-skin type of affair. I'll return to tell you all about that once the weather turns cold again. Next week, probably.

In the meantime though, Millet's PR folk clearly have tentacles all over the place, and it transpires they also do work for Finisterre. There's been no shortage of exciting postal deliveries over the last couple of weeks, and no mistake. I'd heard of Finisterre, and I'd noticed elsewhere that some of their stuff was quite highly thought of, so I was quite eager to give their Brisa baselayer a try.

It got not a bad first run out on the round of three in Glen Shiel last weekend, and I have to say I'm hugely impressed with it.

What the blurb says:
The Brisa Baselayer is lightweight, durable and designed for high activity, temperature regulating performance. The fit is slim and contoured to the body with flat lock seaming throughout to reduce areas of potential rub.

With an interlocked construction, the fabric utilises a three dimensional structure so that any moisture absorbed is spread over as great a surface area as possible. This design maximises wicking speed and dry time, and with more air trapped in the garment, improves insulation and temperature regulation.

What I say:
Er, to be perfectly honest that's spot on. It's a fantastic bit of cloth altogether.

For anyone who's particularly interested in the "lightweight" claim, my trusty kitchen scales have it at 177g. To give that a bit of perspective, and comparison, I've got an old Ronhill baselayer that I tend to wear in the summer. Not, you understand, because I ever run anywhere, ever, but because it was a thin, highly wicking affair that served a purpose on the hill. It weighs 174g, but the Finisterre shirt feels a lot more substantial. It maybe that the old Ronhill is a bit washed out now I suppose, but it never felt as robust and, well, comfy as the Brisa. I'm accordingly quite hopeful that the "durable" bit in their description will prove accurate.

It is quite a slim fitting top, but in a relaxed way, ie it doesn't feel like you're struggling into a lycra corset - if one can imagine such a thing. That's not based on personal experience, honest.

Now, for those of us who are carrying a bit of excess timber, something that's contoured to your body isn't necessarily a selling point, but hillwalking in Scotland tends to mean that days when you're out in one lightweight baselayer and nothing else are rare indeed. Whatever, it's no' the shirt's fault if you fill it too much. What I can say in all seriousness is that it does the job exactly the way you want it to be done. It's got more wicking capacity than a candle factory doing overtime; there are absolutely no itchy seams or annoying loose threads or rough areas, and at the end of the day in Glen Shiel I reckon it was significantly less sweaty and...you know, cold and sticky, than just about anything I've tried before.

That "three dimensional structure" seems to refer to the unusual look and feel of the fabric. Perforated isn't the right word, and I'm not going to succumb to the temptation of saying it's like a teabag, but there's a bit of aeration going on, if you want me to get really technical. The thing is, it works, and their reference to "temperature regulation" is on the money. Cosy yet cooling. That's a hard trick to pull off!

The other standout feature, whether in use or after washing, is how quickly it dries. Spookily so. Even the areas at the cuffs, which are double thickness material, seem to allow the moisture to disappear as fast as any demanding/perspiring hillwalker could wish. Five minutes out on the line and it was ready to wear again - and it doesn't seem to need any kind of iron, cool or otherwise.

And 100% recycled. Not only does it cool you down, but it soothes your conscience. :0)

How does it compare?
As well as the Ronhill top, the baselayers I've used over the last few years (outside the winter months anyway) are a short sleeved Rab Aeon T-shirt, a Craghoppers something or other, a Black's Technicals baselayer, and, my default position, Berghaus Tech_T long sleeved zip neck things.

Long story short, if I can live without the collar which the Berghaus ones have, and which I'm used to, then I've found a new favourite.

Overall then?
The very dab, as we say north of the Border. As an added bonus, my beloved says I suit blue.
;0)

I'm away to gaze longingly at the other stuff on the Finisterre website.

Oh, and before I go, a wee nod to Big Kev, who is clearly a man of longstanding gear expertise!

Glen Shiel at Easter

2011-05-01T21:37:00.005Z

This is really just an excuse to put up a couple more photos of Scotland in the sunshine. What with the Ben Nevis trip, this one, and Glen Affric last Friday we've had a hat trick of fabulous weather hillwalks.

I'll take bets on whether that'll ever happen again. :0)

To be honest though, I'd managed to press some daft button on the office camera and it was misbehaving somewhat - it eventually transpired it was refusing to refocus from a macro setting - so the pictures aren't as sharp as the might have been, were I not so dim. It was a bit hazy too, mind. ;0)

This was a particularly good day out though. You hear a lot about the hills in Glen Shiel, but these three, eminently doable in a not-too-long day, had been under my radar, I must admit.

You start from a sizeable parking area at a place called Lundie. Actually, apart from the parking, there doesn't seem to be anything at all at Lundie. You cross over the A87 and start out along the old military road.


Looking back down from Wade's road

The path forks after a wee while and you then start heading pretty much north, on an excellent stalker's path. That path is actually the story of the first hill, Carn Ghluasaid, because it's a marvellously engineered thing altogether and it seriously cuts down on the effort required to get up onto the flat, stony plateau.

From the summit cairn - which sits right on the edge of a fairly substantial drop, hence the reason the WBD is pictured some distance from it - you get a view of the two remaining hills.

Sgurr nan Conbhairean on the left, wee Sail Chaorainn away on the right

The onward route to Sgurr nan Conbhairean pretty much follows the rims of two huge corries.

Looking back to Carn Ghluasaid

The view of the hills from the road (such as it is) is very different to these other, hidden aspects. I had Jorja on the lead for part of the way, not because I thought she'd necessarily go daft and jump over the edge, but there were still lingering patches of snow, clinging to the tops of the corries, and she does have a habit of exploring that type of stuff, which would have been less than advisable.

To get to the top of the second hill you actually walk over Creag a Chaorainn, which is about 40 metres higher than Carn Ghluasaid, and then across a rather fetching bealach.

The ascent to SnC starts on the right. The ridge coming in from the left is the eventual descent route.

Sgurr nan Conbhairean is definitely the shapeliest of the three hills, and it's got a rather graceful upwards sweep about it. Nice elongated summit cairn as well, although again it's perched close to some big drops.

The next objective, Sail Chaorainn, again requires you to skirt the cliff edges on your right hand side - that's very much the theme of the walk!

Jorja scopes the cornice. That's the summit of Sail Chaorainn top right.

The view back to Sgurr nan Conbhairean

You can feel on the way down to the next bealach that you're going to suffer a wee bit from the reascent on your return journey, but the good news is you've hardly any height to gain to reach the top of your third hill of the day. There was also a welcome watering hole for the dugs en route.

The third yin's a lot smaller than the second yin!

This must be one of the easiest Munros to bag - admittedly given that you're already at the top of another one when you start out for it, if you see what I mean. ;0)

The return climb up to Sgurr nan Conbhairean is a bit of a legburner, but you don't have to go all the way to the summit, and a bypass path leads you towards a ridge, narrowish at one point, then onto the south ridge of Drochaid an Tuill Easaich (another hill that's more than 1000 metres high but not a Munro) and eventually to a wee bump called Meall Breac, from where the path gets a lot boggier and less obvious, but all you're doing is heading back down towards the main road. The books suggest you should pick up the military road - but we couldn't find it, for some obscure reason. Either way there's a burn crossing lower down and I suspect it might be a tricky one if it's in spate. Harmless enough the day we were there mind you.

It was a definite trudge back up the road to Lundie, with the dugs on their leads, but it didn't take too much of the edge off what was officially a Good Day's Walking.

Catch Up

2011-04-30T19:22:00.007Z

It's not very often that I've failed to put something up here about a good hillwalk before a possibly even better hillwalk took place, but that's the unpredictable Scottish climate for you. Glorious sunshine two weeks in a row'll never catch on up here.
Anyway, it's been a busy week, so here's a summary of things that I'll almost certainly endeavour to try and write about in the not too distant future. Probably.

1. The Good Friday trip to Glen Shiel.

2. A fantastic Finisterre baselayer that some folk sent me to review.

3. Yesterday's excellent trip with Andy, Jim & Colin to Glen Affric. Photies here.

4. The fact that the Glen Affric jaunt saw the Wee Black Dug clock up her 50th Munro.

I didn't get a particularly good photo of that last historic happening, so I'll share it with you immediately. ;0)

The Long Good Friday...drive

2011-04-23T16:10:00.005Z

So, what we did was leave Bellshill at the back of seven yesterday morning, drive for just under four hours to Lundie in Glen Shiel, have a rather nice walk over Carn Ghluasaid, Sgurr nan Conbhairean and Sail Chaorainn, and then head back down the road. I'll admit that fatigue was kicking in by the time we got home.

I'll also admit that Andy did all the driving. :o/

Still, it was a good trip, and I feel it can be safely asserted that we embraced the opportunities that the office being shut on a Friday afforded us. I'll do a wee write up of the route over the next day or so.

In the meantime, the journey home was enlivened by our engaging in repeated texting to Bryan Burnett's show on Radio Scotland. His theme for the evening - understandably enough - was "songs about things that appear in the Bible", and he wanted folk's suggestions. Now, as Andy pointed out, everything appears in the Bible one way or the other, but enter into the, er, spirit of the thing and it's surprising just how many songs you can come up with. And boy, did we come up with plenty. I'm fairly confident that the cost of the text messages remained in double figures though.

Which is really all just an excuse to stick up an old Jethro Tull song that I've always enjoyed. Not that Bryan played it of course, but that's no reason not to air it on here. If, like me, you've ever been of the opinion that long hair, tartan waistcoats, and what can only be described as "lace-up hippy boots" were at one time a Good Look, you'll maybe even enjoy the photies that accompany the tune.
:0)

(PS: for as long as the iPlayer thing maintains, here's what actually made it on air!)

Millets

2011-04-18T20:54:00.002Z

By an unexpected combination of circumstances, the nice people who do PR stuff for Millets dropped me a line a couple of weeks back to see if I'd be interested in reviewing any bits and pieces for them. Now, the attentive follower of the blog will know that I don't hold myself out as being a particular expert on all things outdoorsy, but after having a wee look at their website the thought did occur that there were certain items which I'd be as well placed as anyone else to offer a view on.

Trousers, for one.

I say with a reasonable amount of confidence that I know a bit about "walking" or "technical" or "travel" trousers, it being a proud boast of mine that I haven't worn a pair of jeans for about fifteen years. (Through choice - it's not that I can't find a pair that would fit. Well, not if I put my mind to it, at any rate.)

That denim aversion has led, after dalliances with various manufacturers, to me being almost permanently clad in Craghopper Kiwi breeks, for everything other than work. From that starting point, the idea of testing a pair of Millets own branded Peter Storm "Active Trousers" appeared worthwhile, because it afforded a good basis for comparison. Within a couple of days, a box containing said item arrived (it also contained a thermal baselayer, more of which later!), addressed, rather excitingly, to me and the Blog. I've never had a package with Splendid Isolation written on it before, but I could get used to it. Apart from anything else, the neighbours may find it intriguing and mysterious.

What the blurb says:
"Active trousers are great for walking and travel: they provide UV protection and are treated with a mosquito repellent. Made in an easy care blend of polyester and cotton, they are shower resistant and are equipped with a part elasticated waist with a belt, two front handwarmer pockets, two leg cargo pockets, two jetted rear pockets and two side security pockets, plus one more inside. Machine washable."

What I say:
Two weeks pretty constant wear suggests there's not much wrong with that broad description. They're quite a light, (summer weight?) pair of strides, and so far they've proved the very thing for dogwalking and general pottering about. I've got no reason to doubt the claims for UV protection, and mosquito repellency, but I'd be kidding on if I said those aspects have really been "field tested" yet. If they keep the midgies away over the next few months they'll be worth their weight in gold, of course!

The sample I got was navy. That's what Millets call the colour; that's what my better half calls the colour; but if you ask me the perfect description is boiler suit blue. This actually helps them look quite, er, rugged and purposeful, so it's no bad thing.

"Shower resistant"? Well, I don't know about that. I can say that they're very quick drying, but on two consecutive mornings I got caught in some serious rain, and they certainly soak through like most trousers, however - probably owing to the lightness of the fabric - they didn't get to that horrible cold clingy stage that is all too familiar to those of us who spend too much time out in the Scottish weather. Wet or not, they remained comfortable which is about as much as you can hope for. On reflection, maybe they would be shower resistant in places other than Scotland.

The webbing belt with plastic male/female buckle supplied is a bit flimsy, and not that easy to keep cinched tight enough. The part elasticated waist is much the same idea as in the Craghoppers version, and it does a decent job of keeping everything where it should be (regardless of the belt reservations).

The pockets are good. Plentiful and good, no less. The handwarmer pockets are...well...what I would just refer to as pockets, but if part of your thing is to wander around with your hands in your trouser pockets, they're big enough for you to exercise your right to do so. My mother wouldn't approve, mind you.

There's a zipped security pocket inside the front right hand pocket, which doesn't add any noticeable bulk, or interfere with access to the pocket - which isn't always the way of these things. Two hip pockets ("jetted" or cargoish, however you want to put it) with velcro flaps on both, and a zip closure on the left one as well - actually pretty useful if, like me, you can't get out the habit of carrying notes around in your hip pocket.

The leg cargo pockets aren't all that deep, and initially I thought they were more cosmetic than practical but that impression was misplaced. They're plenty big enough for your normal dog walking accoutrements: treats, poop bags etc, and they pass the "tennis ball test" with no problem. That's when the dug finds an extra tennis ball down the park, and you have to get the one she brought back home while still keeping one hand free for a frisbee and the other hand free for the ball thrower. Or is that just me?

Anyway, roomy cargo pockets are the ideal solution to that thorny problem, and these particular cargo pockets work just fine.

I should say, in the interests of completeness, that those were all the pockets I could find, so I'm not sure how it squares with the website description, but if you find you need more than the ones I've described it's probably a rucksack you're needing rather than a pair of trousers.

How do they compare?
The Craghoppers Kiwis are tried and tested, and I've found them pretty much ideal for all dogwalking, travel and general leisure wear. I've never really taken to them as hillwalking trousers though, because once you've tried purpose built breeks with a bit of stretch in them, the shortcomings of anything other than that become all too apparent. The PS ones though might just be worth a punt in the warmer weather, because they are noticeably lighter than the Kiwis. The payoff for that is the fact that they don't have the reinforced knees and seat that the Kiwis do - but not everybody probably wants double thickness trousers.

The Kiwis also take longer to dry, again for the same reason. There's nothing to choose between them in terms of comfort once they're on, although the 36" waist in the Peter Storm is the right size for me whereas I'm always a 34" with the Kiwis. (Given that I got them sent to me as a sample, I haven't tried the smaller size in the PS ones.)

Both trousers are the same 65% polyester, 35% cotton mix, incidentally.

The Active trousers are just as well finished as any of the Craghoppers ones I've had in the past, and if anything, they afford slightly more freedom of movement for the more energetic parts of the daily dog walking routine. That could be the sizing difference, of course. The single thickness material also makes them that bit more comfortable for general lounging around, for want of a better expression. And I do a lot of that, given the chance. It still counts as a leisure activity.

Overall, then?
They're really rather good. As I said, I've pretty much lived in the Kiwis as casual trousers for ages now, but unless you can pick them up in the sale (or Go Outdoors happen to have some in realistic sizes!) they're not inexpensive. The Peter Storm ones are about half the price, they're quicker to dry, and for the milder weather at least they seem to do everything that you'd want of a pair of travel/active/dogwalking trousers.

It'll also be interesting to see how they compare to the Kiwis when it comes to longevity. It's maybe because I press them into service for gardening, and they're not really intended for that, but it's sometimes not terribly long before remedial stitching is required. Further updates as events warrant. And you've got a baselayer review to look forward to as well, remember.

;0)

Edit: re Fred's comment...

Ben Nevis, and canine considerations

2011-04-11T21:39:00.006Z

I had been thinking about giving Molly a turn at the hillwalking on Saturday, but at the last minute domestic arrangements meant it was easier to take the WBD. Accordingly I felt rather guilty when just as we were passing Bridge of Orchy, I realised it was Molly's birthday, and she was home alone.

As it turned out, it was just as well I left her, because Andy's dug Cara ended up having problems with her paws given the constantly rocky, stony terrain. Cara, being the stoic sort, struggled down the hill with great character. Given that the last time Molly was up a Munro was with Cara on Bynack More last year, I'm sure her paws would have been in the same nick, and Molly doesn't "do" pain at all. She would, I fear, have point blank refused to continue, and I envisage that 30kg of labradoodle would have put something of a strain on the Jirishanca.

The decision to head for Ben Nevis had been a last minute one, based almost entirely on the weather forecast. The sunshine, so the theory went, would make up for the path and the crowds. And...it pretty much did.

Looking back to the Halfway Lochan

That's no' even one of the official zigzag bits

Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew etc etc

I wouldn't fancy standing there...

...but it's safer than standing there!

Summit stuff

High altitude dug wrangling

A dug and a view

The nature of the path being what it is, you find yourself passing folk, and then, a bit later on, they'll pass you when you're pausing for a well deserved breather/fag/bit of malt loaf. There was a chap we had exchanged a brief word with lower down on the zigzags, and we met him again at the top. Iain, his name was. A proper gentleman sort. Once he took his sunglasses off it was clear that he was a fair bit older than first impressions had suggested. A couple of years since he had first lifted his pension, at any rate. We nodded in yon congratulatory manner that hillwalkers do, and he wandered over. "I was wondering", he said, "have you seen any snow buntings up here today?". Well, no, was the honest answer to that one. Indeed we weren't entirely sure that anyone had ever seen snow buntings on the Ben - we both knew that they hang about the Cairngorms, but other than that it seemed unlikely. "Oh, they do come here" said Iain. "I bring seed up for them...I'll leave it anyway of course, I just thought you might have spotted some." It was tolerably clear even from that opening exchange that Iain had been at the summit of Ben Nevis before. He was quite taken with the dogs, and asked if he could take a photo of all of us, because he likes to log his walks; so we told him the dugs' names; and our names; which is when we got his name...which is when he mentioned that he had lost his old collie last year, at the age of 18. "She was up at the summit here 219 times", he remarked in passing.

You can imagine that this resulted in a brief stunned pause.

And - other than wishing him well - that was about the extent of it. But it made an impression. On both me and Andy, I think. We certainly got the notion that somebody who's been up Ben Nevis more than 200 times - and that was just in the period he had his dog - just might be a weel kent figure. I had a wee search when I got home, but admittedly had little to go on so wasn't surprised I came up with nothing.

Then you google something imaginative like "Dog Ben Nevis", and stumble across a picture on Flickr from 2008:

Click

That photograph has much more of an emotional impact on me than it should, in the circumstances. I must be getting softer as I get older.

Top Dog

2011-04-10T21:05:00.001Z

Technically, at that moment yesterday afternoon, there wasn't a higher one in Britain with its paws on terra firma.

;0)

Pause for thought...

2011-04-06T21:32:00.001Z

...if your opinion is that you don't really get proper avalanches in Scotland.

(From the SAIS northern Cairngorms blog).

Streap Alba

2011-04-02T23:32:00.002Z

1. Click

2. Make sure you keep an eye on what Alan Sloman continues to unearth.

3. Speak to your sympathetic pals. I've a notion this is indeed a step too far, and it's possible that folk could make a difference to the outcome. There's an election imminent, remember.

Antimaudlin'

2011-04-01T20:01:00.004Z

It's not a word you hear every day, but after careful consideration I've decided that's the ethos of this song.

Written by Warren Zevon, performed by Jill Sobule.

There might be more of this stuff later - it's been yon kind of week.

;0)

Unclear on the concept:

2011-04-01T19:02:00.003Z

In fairness, he's not much more than a kitten.

:oD

Four seasons in one day

2011-03-29T21:03:00.004Z

It's probably not unique for one of our hillwalking plans to go exactly as anticipated (although I can't immediately think of another such occasion) but last Saturday's trip to Ben Wyvis simply worked.

I'd arranged to pick Andy up at 6:30am, and I did. We'd arranged to meet Paul and Gordy in the car park at the start of the walk at 10:00, and if my watch had a chime, it'd have been chiming triumphantly as we pulled off the A835, with Gordy right behind us. Timing's not just the secret of great comedy, you know.

Although I think my OS map is a bit out of date, because it doesn't seem to identify the precise carpark that we stopped at, the objective was well nigh unmissable, benefiting as it does from a big sign on the main road bearing the legend "Ben Wyvis Car Park". These things always help, I find, particularly after a lengthy drive, when your concentration isn't always what it could be. Thankfully it had been good enough earlier to avoid our getting totalled by the maniac heading south on the A9, who decided to overtake a line of traffic while approaching a blind bend, but that's another story. There were gestures made, I will say that much.

The path leaves the carpark to the north, running along adjacent to the road for a few hundred yards, after which you're through a gate in the deer fence, and in a position to release the hounds.

Looking back down the path

The Wee Black Dug and Andy's weimaraner Skye are both cut from similar cloth so far as hill stamina is concerned, and although Jorja's definitely not got quite as much straight line speed, she probably takes snowy corners better so the two of them are rather good at tiring each other out. Result.

The path then heads south eastish, and it's immediately apparent that the way onwards involves a fairly steep plod up An Cabar.

Jorja wasn't sure she fancied it:

Getting closer:

There were still a few patches of snow - deep in places - that meant parts of the path were buried...

...but they were short-lived detours and I suspect another week or two will see the path clear all the way.

Higher up in particular, the path is first class - there's been a power of work done on it, and it provides a rocky zig-zagging staircase which pretty much pulls you upwards...

...secure in the knowledge that once you get to the cairn at 946 metres there's a decent high level, flattish stroll ahead of you to get to the summit of the Munro. Because you're gaining height quickly the views are opening out all the time. Little Wyvis lies to the south:

...across what is a fairly steep drop to the glen containing the Allt a' Bhealaich Mhoir:

The strong sunshine which had encouraged us at the start of the walk was disappearing all the time, so the vista west, over to the Fannaichs, was only fleetingly visible. We still saw more than enough to be tempted though!

Once on the broad ridge that runs between An Cabar and the summit, the underfoot conditions were pretty damp - the combination of the snowmelt and the unusual mossy springy ground cover made that unavoidable. There's some information about the "Woolly Top" and other peculiarities of the hill here.

An Cabar summit cairn

Looking north east towards the Munro summit

Even though the weather was closing in quite significantly by this time, it was still a very pleasant dauner to the trig point at the top where we spent about 20 minutes watching the dugs run aboot daft, apparently unmoved by the achievement of getting to the summit of another Munro.

It's nice to soak up the atmosphere at the top of a hill. I enjoy (weather permitting) having my pieces, and a nice cup of tea from the flask that I religiously cart up with me in the winter months. (I say "flask". It's really an ultralight stainless steel thermos hot drink provision system. I take the teabag out before I leave the house.) I don't think I'd like to get to the stage of the group that arrived at the trig point just after us, who all announced their respective Munro tallies aloud, and then immediately turned round and headed back down. It presumably works for them, but it seemed a wee bit joyless to me.

Mind you, maybe yon baggers had known something we didn't, because the mental hailstones that promptly bombarded us when we started the descent took the shine off my relaxed hilltop cuppa a bit.

We came back the same way as we'd gone up. Some of the books suggest making it a circuit and going over Tom a' Choinnich to the north, but out of respect for the diligent path builders we retraced our steps over their handiwork. The respect was one reason. The fact that the watter was running out us by this point was also a factor.

It was a round trip of just over five hours, which is about par for the course. It was good to get everybody together and up a new hill at the same time, so we repaired to The Coul House Hotel in Contin, about 9 miles down the road, for a quick celebratory pint. Gordy had phoned from the carpark, to ask if they let dogs into the bar. They positively embraced the whole dug thing, as it turned out. It's quite possibly the poshest place I've ever been in - with or without a canine companion. It's certainly the first pub I've been in with Jorja where your beer is delivered to your table in the drawing room by a waiter who also brings you complimentary crisps, peanuts and...olives.

Needless to say, it'll shortly be making a star appearance in the Dugpub page.

;0)

Ben Wyvis Sweep

2011-03-25T22:34:00.002Z

If all goes to plan we're leaving Airdrie at half-six tomorrow morning to have a go at Glas Leathad Mor (to give it its Sunday name).

So - when do you think we'll get home?

I'm not sure what guidance there might be to help you with your prediction, as I doubt there's that many folk who have previously thought that doing Ben Wyvis as a day walk, in March, from darkest Lanarkshire, was a particularly good idea.

;0)

Ralph Storer - The Ultimate Guide to the Munros

2011-03-23T20:58:00.007Z

Just after I started hillwalking, I got myself a copy of Ralph Storer's "100 Best Routes on Scottish Mountains". It's been well used over the years, because I found that his assessments of routes - especially when it came to exposure and associated scary bits - fitted pretty closely with my own thoughts on such things. A lot of Munro guidebooks tend to give the impression that unless you're in constant and imminent danger of falling off a knife edge ridge to your severe injury and permanent disfigurement, then there's no exposure worth mentioning.

I was particularly happy therefore to find out that the author is currently engaged on something of a marathon Munro guide of his own. There are three volumes out already, and he's still only on the "Central Highlands - North". As the blurb on the publisher's (Luath Press) website puts it:

"The Ultimate Guide to the Munros series plans to cover all the Munros... eventually. The speed of writing depends on the ability of the author to re-climb and research alternative routes up the hills, which in turn is heavily reliant on the weather. Volume 3: Central Highlands North, is due out in October 2010. For the others... watch this space."

I came across Volume 2, pictured above, last week and given it had Meall nan Eun in it, I took little persuasion to invest in a copy there and then.

It's fantastic stuff. I can't recommend it highly enough.

I mean, it's amusing, and comprehensive, and it gives two or three different routes up every hill which is commendable in itself, but the real strength if you ask me is that it's a source of reliable information and realistic assessment for your, er, bog standard hillwalker. Your bog standard, risk-averse, exposure-intolerant hillwalker in the case of yours truly.

I'm not giving too much away, because I think everyone should go out and buy a copy - even if you've been up all the hills before, I'll take bets there are routes in the book you haven't done - but part of the appeal is the way the book provides differing perspectives on what the hills have in store. The device that's used (rather effectively in my opinion) to achieve this end is that the thing is a joint effort of the...ahem Go-Take-a-Hike Mountaineering Club.

Who's in that then?

" Ralph Storer President. Compiler of routes, penner of words, stopper of bucks, all-round good egg.

Gigi Custodian of the Common Sense. Farer (fairer?) of the Ways, arbiter of disputes, friend to all. Named after the two embarrassing grooves caused by too much fence-sitting.

F-stop Controller of the Camera. Advisor of the Aperture. Recorder of the Ridiculous. So-named because he's always f***ing stopping to take photographs.

Needlepoint Companion of the Compass. Wary Watcher of the Weather. Finds featureless plateaus intimidating, doesn't understand GPS, barely understands a compass.

Chilly Willy Keeper of the Cool. AKA Snowballs. Peely-wally, estivates during summer, has never seen a midge, likes his toast crisp and even.

Torpedo Expender of the Energy. Bald and streamlined. Loather of laziness. Scorch marks on boots. Ascends as fast as a falling Munro bagger descends.

Terminator Raveller of the Rope. Grizzled, monosyllabic, self-taught suicide commando. Hater of the horizontal. Measures his life in scars.

Baffies Entertainments Convenor. Allergic to exertion, prone to lassitude, suffers from altitude sickness above 600m, blisters easily, bleeds readily. "

What this mob handed approach means, of course is that (to take an example completely at random), the reader is given, in addition to detailed descriptions of the route itself and all related essential information, the following observations on the Aonach Eagach...

"GiGi: Sir Hugh himself was perfectly happy to take an easy way up a mountain if there was one, while A.E. Robertson, widely regarded as the first Munroist certainly avoided crossing Aonach Eagach in 1901(admittedly because of bad weather) when he bagged Meall Dearg as the last Munro on his list."

"Terminator: This is a route for expert scramblers only. In places the grade is technically a rock climb.There are no escape routes down into Glencoe between one end of the ridge and the other. Know your capability. This is no place to lose your nerve half-way along. It would not be out of place to carry a rope in case. Fatalities have occurred here. Now go enjoy."

"Baffies: I'll drive the car down the glen to save you the walk back up"

Actually, when I said everybody should buy a copy I was maybe understating it. Everybody should, like I intend to do, buy two copies. A pristine housebound one for route planning and general entertainment and reminiscence, and another one that you can cut pages out of, to laminate and take with you on the hill.

I hope with that shameless plug for double sales, the author will forgive me for the breaches of copyright on here.

;0)

Meall nan Eun

2011-03-22T20:58:00.022Z

It's actually not so much Meall nan Eun as the upper reaches of Glen Ceitlin and Coirean Riabhach, given that we got nowhere near the top of the hill. Still, the photies give a wee bit of the flavour of what turned out to be an enjoyable, if summit-free day out.

:0)

Ben Starav from the bridge at the foot of Glen Ceitlin

Meall Odhar on the left, Meall nan Eun on the right

Looking down Glen Ceitlin, and across Glen Etive towards Beinn Sgulaird on the left, and Beinn Fionnlaidh on the right

A wee deer, unimpressed with the approaching hillwalkers

The snow getting a bit more prevalent

Beinn Fhionnlaidh again

Beinn Sgulaird again, and Beinn Fionnlaidh, yet again. Unsure what the shining peak in the background between them is. I should probably consult some sort of map.
(edit: I'm now thinking it's Sgorr Dhonuill on the Ballachullish horseshoe)

Looking north east - I think the peak in the distance is Stob Dearg, on the Big Bookle.

Just stand there to give it some scale, eh?

On the descent - the horizon was where we were supposed to get to!

Foiled

2011-03-21T22:06:00.003Z

As I had said, I had a week off work just there and was hopeful of getting something done out of doors. Something a bit more ambitious than seasonal pruning and garden tidying, at any rate.

As things turned out though, there was a new and exciting reason to spoil the plans every time I had a go. I'd sort of persuaded myself on Tuesday evening that it'd be exciting to head up to Glen Shiel the next day, walk up one two or even three Munros, spring for a night in the Cluanie Inn for me and the WBD, then a leisurely drive home on the Thursday. For the first time I can remember, it wasn't the weather forecast that changed my mind about that, but rather the avalanche forecast. As soon as I read it, the game was, as they say, a bogey.

So, fallback plan for Thursday (which promised half decent weather) was to drive to Crianlarich, catch the train from there at about 10:20am and journey onwards to Corrour with a view to having a go at Beinn na Lap. Even if there was a lot of snow about, I reckoned that with almost 8 hours to play with before the train back down, I shouldn't have any problems with the Munro, which is only supposed to take about 4 hours in itself. Leaving Bellshill at 7:45 gave me ample time to get to Crianlarich...or it would have done, had there not been a smash on the Cumbernauld road (which is down to one lane because of roadworks anyway); water repair work-related gridlock going on in Chapelhall (which route would have enabled me to avoid the smash) and, it transpired when in a last desperate roll of the dice I decided to head East, hoping to join the M9 further north, an hour and a half tailback on the M8 itself.

If there was one positive about the situation, it was that I knew by 9 o'clock that I wasn't going to make the train, so it's not as if I had to drive very far. Jorja was a bit miffed right enough, jumping out of the car after two hours only to find herself at her own front door.

I had hoped to have another bash at Beinn na Lap on the Friday, but the MWIS prediction of heavy snow and a windchill of minus 17 took the shine off the prospect, and I decided just to wait until the Saturday and get back to the non-holiday hillwalking routine.

That nearly worked. Me & Andy headed up to Glen Etive, the objective being Meall nan Eun. Chosen carefully it was - the SAIS folk were confident that approaching a hill from our intended direction was about as avalanche safe as you could get. We made pretty good time on the road up, saw a golden eagle soaring high above the glen en route, met Glen Etive's notoriously tame, traffic stopping deer...

...and then had a very pleasant walk up Glen Ceitlin. There wasn't anywhere near as much snow around as we had anticipated - lower down at least. Pretty much as soon as we got above 1200 feet or so however there was more than enough of the stuff. Waist deep on occasions, and the terrain fairly quickly started to get the better of us. We could see the route up, which is a fairly steep corrie headwall clamber, and it was clear that (a) there was too much snow in it to make it feasible, and (b) there was no safe bypass route - certainly not one that wouldn't have involved an impracticably lengthy diversion. Still, we've reconnoitred the route now and in common with many other hills I've attempted recently I'll be able to go back in the summer and get to the top of the thing. Probably.

Ach, it was just good to get out anywhere. And it meant I got to test my brand new boots. Ah, the joy of dry feet on the hill.

:0)

Holidays at home

2011-03-15T12:10:00.001Z

I've got the week off, and the whole point behind that was so I could just sort of...potter a bit. Stuff to do in the garden, clearing up generally, few wee bits & pieces to do around the house. The only genuine target was to get away for a wild camp somewhere. A whole week to do it in, so the only thing that would really scupper the plans was unexpectedly snowy, wet weather.

Hmmm.

The way things are looking out the window the now, it'll be an achievement if I get up a hill at all. I'm nearly thinking of adopting the tactic of booking a room in a hotel somewhere in the middle of nowhere to encourage me to get away, but it's rather an expensive method of climbing a new Munro.

I can see why sensible folk take time off their work in the summer. ;0)

It's psychosomatic. You need a lobotomy. I'll get a saw.

2011-03-10T22:35:00.000Z

Without any doubt, ever since I first laid eyes on Bill Watterson's work I've tried to make informed decisions on life's difficult choices by asking myself "What would Hobbes do?"

Agains that backdrop, and despite being sorry that the strip ended when it did, I've always had a horror that one day I'd be surfing the internet and I'd stumble across something, somewhere, that someone had come up with that depicted, oh, I don't know, a very elderly Calvin clutching a scrap of black and orange cloth in his frail hand. And I doubt I could bear that. (I'm being perfectly serious.)

There was very nearly a sharp intake of breath when I clicked on an image earlier, but...I can cope with this one. It's quite sympathetically done.

Hmmm. Maybe I'm getting broody for some obscure reason.

Anyway, lest there's any impression of lack of levity in this post, and you're needing cheered up, have a read through these.

:0)

Scotland's best dog walk?

2011-03-10T20:45:00.002Z

To cut a long story short, my plan last Saturday to do Stob Ban (the Grey Corries version) foundered at the last minute, so being in the general area I had another wander up Creag Pitridh. This was the first Munro I had ever climbed where the justification for choosing it was that it was a new one for the dug. :0)
There's plenty of photies of the walk in to the three hills hereabouts elsewhere on the blog, so I'll confine myself to the bare minimum on this post!