A Spare Saturday in Scotland

Thanks to the vagaries of the Caledonian sleeper timetable, I had a spare Saturday in Scotland.
Oops ;o)

My lovely mate picked me up from the station (at twenty to eight in the morning), bought me breakfast, and drove us up to Whitewell. From there we walked via Lochan Deo, the Cairngorm Club footbridge and Piccadilly and up to the Lairig Ghru. A right turn joined the route I had taken in May, heading up Sron na Lairig towards Braeriach. We met the cloud before reaching the first top, and by the summit of Braeriach we could barely see ten yards ahead. Some careful navigating took us the shortest way to the falls of Dee (rather than following the coire edges) and up Carn na Criche, a flat 1,265m top with a helpful cairn.

From there we followed the edge round, and up the Angel's Peak - a new hill for me (if only I could have seen the view...) - and down the other side, before we dumped our bags and scrambled up Cairn Toul in strong wind and driving rain (and fog). Having made a late start (we'd been tempted by tea at a friend's house en route to Whitewell), it was now 7pm, still raining hard and with the wind-chill taking the temperature below freezing, we needed to firm up our plans for getting off the plateau.

The headwind and late hour had us deciding on a descent into Glen Einich, via the Coire Dhondail path. At the end of that path, where it meets the landrover track on the valley floor, we found a smashing patch of grass, pitched the tent, cooked, and zonked straight out. We were up at 5.30 the next morning to walk the 9km back to Whitewell, in time to take part in the Bikeathon. The weather was glorious, and we cursed and praised its fickleness in equal measure.


We made the walk out in two-hours, completing the whole 36km hike (+1,350m ascent) in 22 hours. I am happy to say my seventy-quid Craghopper coat kept me completely dry, despite spending the entire first day in constant rain. We reached the Bikeathon start in time, and completed the 26 mile ride - which felt like the easy bit - in a couple of hours (not including lunch...) A massive thank you to everyone who sponsored me. I raised £600+ for Leukaemia & Lymphoma Research, and the event as a whole raised over £35,000.

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If you'd still like to contribute to my sponsorship fund, you can do so here: justgiving.com/leighforbes

Gruelling Weekend

I'm riding in the Scottish Bikeathon, 26 miles through the Highlands in aid of Leukeamia & Lymphoma Research. I'm doing it with the widow of my friend Piet Ketelaar, in his memory.

I've raised £255 in four days. My target is £1,000 by the day of the ride, June 19th.

If any blogmates out there are prepared to sponsor me, I'd be hugely grateful. You can make a payment online at justgiving.com/leighforbes.

It's not part of the event, but I'm also planning to climb Cairn Toul, the UK's 4th highest mountain, the day before the bikeathon... It's going to be a gruelling (but ace) weekend!

Situation Normal

So the weather turned in the end, but only on the last of seven fantastic days walking. This was just yesterday.

Day one of my final hike had been stunning: my mate, Alastair, and I had beautiful weather as we strolled up Glen Feshie.
It was only as we tramped up the Eidart that the showers began, heralding the foul conditions to come. We made and ditched plans as the weather worsened, finally deciding to set camp before making a packless-dash for Beinn Bhrotain; but as the cloud and rain came down in equal measure, thunder rumbled and the wind howled, we took cover and opted to sit it out until morning.

After a tent-testing night (gusting 83mph on nearby Cairngorm), we woke late to find the visibility had improved... from 10 yards to 20 yards. We gave up on Beinn Bhrotain (I had a train to catch), and turned towards Monadh Mor, heading for home.

The visibility got better as we dropped below cloud level, but we saw no other improvement. After a four-hour horizontal torrent on the Mòine Mhor finally put paid to my week of Scottish sun, we picked our way back down into Glen Feshie, and once again into glorious conditions (aside from the storm-force gale). We delighted in the knowledge that Beinn Bhrotain stayed cloudy all day :o)

The weather was fun in a way - a challenge for nav skills if nothing else. Staying upright was my next ambition, and I mostly made it. Alastair, a local-born scot, cheered me with such observations as, "There's a good chance this mist might soon turn to rain..." He was wearing shorts.

I caught the train, and have suffered the wretchedness of swapping, in the space of twenty-four hours, the slopes of Beinn Bhrotain for the Victoria line at rush hour. Shell-shocked just doesn't touch it.

Tiny Causes of Enormous Problems

Two years ago, while hiking in my favourite Scottish glen – one of the clagging-heather variety - a couple of other walkers approached. They looked like they knew what they were doing – big packs, determined expressions, etc. – except that the woman wore three-quater-length trousers. They said hello, and I said, "I hope you don't mind me mentioning, but there's Lyme disease in this glen." The man immediately started waving his arms around, declaring that he'd never heard such a thing, and they were going over to another glen anyway. The woman looked blank. "Two of my friends caught it," I added, "and I know of others." He then put his hands on his hips telling me not to be ridiculous, and it didn't matter anyway. His manner took on an arrogant, abusive tone. I was torn between wishing I'd kept my mouth shut, and an inability to let this fellow hiker jeopardise her health. Her companion obviously knew about the risks, but clearly wanted me to shut up. Why? God knows - how not to protect your mate from a life-changing illness. The woman continued looking blank, so I encouraged her to think about covering her legs, and left.

I didn't bother them with details of the tick bite I'd had earlier that year, the debilitating exhaustion I'd suffered, the heart irregularities, and all the other discomforts. Not to mention the awful side effects of the antibiotics I had to take. I was lucky (I had an interested doctor). Caught within the first month, Lyme disease is curable. After that, controlling the symptoms is the best you can hope for.

If you spend any time at all in the UK countryside, I encourage you to familiarise yourself with Lyme disease. There is a mine of information on the net, and Google is your friend - a better one than the chappy above. Coincidentally (I've been planning this post for months :o), it's tick-bite prevention week, so you could look at their site too.

Two Days in Scotland (and two days on the M6)

First trip of 2011! And a bonus to the year's schedule too.
My friend, Kath, and I decided, as you do when not quite in touch with reality, to take a four-day midweek break to Scotland. The journey is 600 miles (each way), meaning two days in the car for only two days hiking. A small matter. We set off, drove ten hours from Sussex to Strath Spey, and fell upon plates of chilli and large quantities of beer like the motorway-maddened travellers we were.

Having so little time, we had resolved to walk whatever the weather, and the following morning's steady snow-fall was no deterrent. With not a snowshoe, crampon, or axe between us, we headed up Ryvoan pass amply aided by our YakTrax (they're fab - review to follow). Our route deteriorated from a pisted track to ski lines, to ever-deepening footprints left by others. After lunch at the bothy we headed up the side of Meall a' Bhuachaille, the snow still falling silently.

A few had gone before us, but their tracks soon petered out, and we cut up the side of the hill through deep drifts. It was fun, but hard going, and as we reached cloud level - about half way up - we knew we just didn't have time (or energy) to reach the top. That's when the fun started. With snow up to our waists in places, the most effective way down was to bumslide or, where it was not steep enough for that, to roll. We laughed all the way back to the bothy.

The next day the sun shone in a deep-blue sky, and we just had to get up a mountain somehow. Being short of time and unadventurous, we chose Cairngorm (I know, I know), along with hundreds of skiers. We fought a way up Windy Ridge, again in deep snow, dodging the off-piste boarders. The going got better higher up, but the wind became a burden, and the final push for the top was a slog. It took us over four hours for a climb that can usually be done in 90-min, max.

But the views. Ah, the views. We could see the entire Highlands. We could clearly make out Morven (77 miles) and Ben More Assynt (83 miles). It was the best visibility I've ever seen in the Cairngorms.

Sgurr Mor (1,100m) and the Fannaichs, 64 miles
The next day we drove home, having covered over 1,300 miles; but the trip was worth every one. I'll be back up in May and, with the hope of less snow and longer days, I've more great walks planned!

2010 Walks

I don't get much time in the hills, but I made the most of only eight days last year. I took a great two-day trip along the Lairig an Laoigh in May, overnighting at the Fords of Avon. I had taken my new tent, but as I looked at the empty refuge, then at the blizzard-swept patch of grass beside it, I remembered it was -6°C. The refuge won. I carried on the next day as far as the saddle between the Lairig an Laoigh and Glen Derry - opposite Coire Etchachan - before turning back. Twenty-six hours without seeing another soul. Heaven!

I didn't get my long-promised day in August, and so had to wait until September for another foray into the hills, but I made up for it with a weekend circuit of the Lairig Ghru, Cairn a' Mhaim, Ben Macdui and Fiacaill a' Choire Cas. I very rarely head out in company, but walked that weekend with my friend Nick.We started at the Sugar Bowl carpark, and headed through the Chalamain Gap and up the Lairig Ghru to Corrour. We'd started late owing to the weather and had to make do with the last two places on the bothy floor, by the fireplace. After a noisy night with Snorey Bloke from Birmingham (plus four others), the mice, the wind banging the door, the soot falling down the chimney, and the dog, we headed up Cairn a' Mhaim fortified by a bacon and egg breakfast. The weather was perfect - the best I've ever had in the Cairngorms, and the views from the top of Ben Macdui reached to Ben Nevis :o)

Other walks in 2010 included whiteout on Sgor Goaith, blizzards on the Monadh Mor, nearly getting cragfast in Coire an t-Sneachda and thigh-high heather above Glen Feshie (yeugh).

This year I am determined to reach Beinn Mheadhoin*, Derry Cairngorm, Beinn Bhrotian* and Coire Mharconaich - all from the northern side. I'm thinking I might need a new sleeping mat ;o)

I've got a bit lazy about updating the walking gallery, and have been posting my photos to facebook.

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* I climbed Beinn Mheadhoin on May 4th. On the 9th I camped on the slopes of Beinn Bhrotain , but had to pass on the final climb due to appalling weather. See the post above Situation Normal. Next attempt in June October!

Planes, Trains & Automobiles

A thread about car-sharing on the LFTO forum got me thinking about the various ways I travel to Scotland. It's six hundred miles from Sussex, and I have three options: the plane, the train, and the automobile. (There's also the coach, but a never-to-be-repeated 24h from Melbourne to Brisbane cured me of that mode of transport.)

The Plane
The cheapest option (from £26 each way, or free with Airmiles!), and, on paper, the quickest (1.5) - but let's not forget all that mucking about at the airport. In addition, Gatwick is one of the most inhuman places on the planet, and when I last flew in after a week on the hills I felt like a rabbit in the headlights. In reality, it takes about 6.5 hours, and involves an appalling assault on the soul. Flying is not for me, even if the take-off is fun.

The Train
Following a 1976 ride on the Motorail (the most civilised form of transport ever invented), I developed a bit of a taste for overnight rail-travel. The Caledonian sleeper takes 7-9 hours from Euston, depending on which train I catch, and gets me to within a few miles of my destination by breakfast time. The hours travelling are spent being rocked in sleep, rather than staring at six lanes of traffic or a departures board. It's not the cheapest option (£60 for my last berth - though bargains are available); but it's my favourite.

The Automobile
The most expensive (£100, one way), but obviously the best in terms of door-to-door convenience. However, it is also the most irksome is some ways - including the fact that I pay two hundred quid, and have to drive the damn thing too. On the plus side, I get to breathe only my own germs, the kids have no rampaging opportunities, I can take any amount of stuff important equipment, and I already have transport when I'm there.

How do you get to where you want to be? Do you have options, or are you stuck with a single form of transport?

Fit For Purpose

People often say when they see the children, "I bet they keep you fit..."

Oh, sure, I'm in reasonable nick: I'm used to lifting a 16kg weight, and carrying the same down the lane to school every day, but when I get tired, I put her down and she walks for herself. I also run up and down the stairs a fair bit, but I'd have to climb them forty times to match a 1,000' ascent - and there are no slippery rocks in my house, or scree.

During my July and October trips last year I spent the first three days feeling stiff and achy, and was only able to 'go for it' on the last few of days of each visit (two of which were written off by bad weather). This year, I had determined to get properly fit before I go.

Now that my ankle sprain is healing nicely... I'm stretching, swimming, doing step exercises and press-ups, etc., but my main technique is to carry an increasing collection of house bricks around with me... 8kg so far ...on the school-run, round Tescos, on strolls with the kids. My reckoning is that the best way to get fit for walking with a heavy pack is to walk with a heavy pack.

I've also joined a local walking group - previously anathema to me - which is now forcing me out onto my local hills (the South Downs) at least once a week. I take the bricks too - for the entertainment of my fellow walkers if nothing else.

How do you get/keep fit for the hills?

Don't Let your Ankles be your Downfall

Last July I sat in Glenmore Lodge, being mocked by a fit twenty-something for my fear of 'turning an ankle' in the hills, and the consequential survival-gear I carry. "Ever broken anything?" I asked. "Or even twisted anything?" He didn't answer.

Having once sprained my ankle (while getting up to answer the phone), I knew how easy, and how debilitating this injury can be. It sounds so common-place, doesn't it? But the pain isn't...

Then, on the five weeks ago, I did it again. It was a stupid, easy, slip that in the hills might have jeopardised my life. In my garden, only ten yards from the phone, it did no more than jeopardise my ready-booked trip to Scotland, and was a timely reminder of the care I need to take - as though I don't take enough care already.

I have my physiotherapist and his advice to thank for a miraculous recovery (from still-on-crutches to ten-mile hike with 6kg tester, in three weeks). I mentioned on my other blog that I'd rued not seeking physio the last time I did it. Now, having had the care that only private medical treatment can provide (without a 12-week wait), I've learned that I don't, actually, have to resign myself to a 'weak ankle' for life - which is what I was beginning to think (having once broken it too) - and that I don't have to take pain, ibuprofen, and apprehension with me into the hills next month - or worse, cancel the trip.

Exercise, that's all it takes: we pay huge attention to our quads/gluteals/deltoids, and whatever else takes our fancy, but what about the peroneus longus? Anyone? I have a blue stretchy-thing now, attached to the leg of my dining-room table (see picture, below), and every time I sit with a cup of tea, I stick my foot in the loop and do 30-this-way and 30-that-way. I'm not only rebuilding the strength I've lost, but I feel I'm guarding against future injury too.

It sounds naff, but I didn't expect to be hiking over the downs with a half-laden pack by now - and well on my way back to the Cairngorms. It's worth all the naffness, a thousand times over.


Blue stretchy-thing for ankle exercises, keeping the lower leg completely still. (Click for a larger image.)

The First Steps

I first visited Scotland when I was six. My first mountain had more feet to its height than I had days to my age, but I was instantly ensnared by the lure of heather and rock-clad hills. The Cairngorms, which were visible from that first summit, held a particular fascination for me, but - despite many other hills - it was a long time before I trod on my first bit of red granite; and even then I was limited.

For seven years I climbed Cairngorm, or walked its northern corries, with various of my children either still inside, in a front carrier, in a back carrier, and/or in a buggy. I loved these walks - they made a change from mother & baby coffee mornings, for sure - but I confess to yearning for the chance to walk alone, with a tent on my back instead of a toddler. I wanted to go into the hills, not just look at them from yet another visit to the weather station.

Last July I finally got that chance, and again in August and October. I have further trips planned for this year, and plan to use this blog to share pictures, routes, experiences, and gear reviews (as I upgrade my 25-year-old kit). I would love to hear back from you. The comments box is open.