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?

Petzl Tikka Plus 2

A lightweight (83g), 50-lumen, 35m, 140h, water-resistant, multi-mode headtorch with a 4* listing in the 2010 Trail Gear Guide. I've not yet tested it in the field, but I've made several trips to the pub! (The manufacturer's spec is here.)

General Use
The lower continuous-white-light setting is totally sufficient for walking at a good pace. The higher setting is great for a look-around, but I felt no need to use it all the time (on a reasonable path).

Red Light
The red light is a very useful feature if, like me, you like to keep your night vision sometimes. It's bright enough to walk by on a good path with care. It's absolutely fine for proximity lighting.

In rain/snow/dust
The lower continuous-white-light setting gives a mini strobe effect, caused by the power cycling on and off to achieve the lower output (this is the same for any single-LED). In rain/dust/snow, you get an effect of glitter in front of your face. It's pretty, but distracting, and a bit irritating after a while. It doesn't occur on the max-white or red-light settings.

The general distribution means I can see the inside rim of my hood, and the end of my nose. Coupled with the glitter effect this made for a lot of unwanted local-illumination under these conditions.

Water Resistance
I couldn't quite get to the bottom of its water resistance: its specified rating of IP X4 (thanks to Nick for some clarification here - see comments) might or might not equate to IP65 - which means you're fine as long as you don't drop it in a loch and leave it there. I understand that, although the battery compartment can theoretically be flooded, the PCB is protected by rubber seals. Basically, I've used it in heavy rain and no water got in.

Tilt Angle
The unit can be tilted to five different angles, but I found the whole unit set just a bit too low: on the highest tilt I still had to tip my head back, or lean backwards, to lift the light up enough to use its full 35m beam - not what I want to do while wearing a full pack! The lowest angle illuminated my boots (with my head vertical), which I don't need. Personally, I'd prefer the whole unit to be set one notch more upright, so I can use the top notch for distance and the next one/two for walking.

I wrote to Petzl about this, but was not impressed with their response: they seemed more concerned with lights not shining in other people's eyes, rather than practicalities for the user...

I can't see myself using all five tilt settings, and would rather the whole thing were angled up a notch.

Battery Life
I've used the torch for two hours so far, and have not noticed any drop in performance. It has Duracells in it at the moment, but I'll replace them with Uniross rechargeables. I'll update this post when I know more about battery life and performance.

Conclusion
If you can live with the niggles, it's a good useable torch, at a great weight, and for a great price.

Good Features
5 modes (white: max, min, strobe; red: steady, flashing)
Lightweight: only 83g including batteries
Useful (35m) range & distribution of light
Battery-life of 140h (on economy)
Battery indicator
Waterproof seals (water resistant)
Easy access to batteries (see photo)
Good price (I paid £37.50 from Cotswolds)

Poor Features
Glitter effect in rain/snow/dust
Low angle of illumination

Any questions/comments? Please post via the comments link below.

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.)