Springing in the Highlands 2017, part 2

We hit Glen Shiel again for another night at the Morvich Caravan & Motorhome Club site. Chrissie faffs and fiddles with stuff, worries and has a trial erection (yes, really) of the Enan, as if she'd never done it before.

Finally, she stops worrying...and goes to sleep.

Next day, we amble about with the dogs before leaving the site. Chrissie ceremoniously paddles in the sea.

Later in the afternoon, meeting them from the bus, we shuttle Mike and his son James over to Glenelg before returning for a night on some spare ground opposite the Kintail Lodge, the better for Chrissie to stroll across the road to sign in, in the morn. Mike's on form...I admire his sporran.

We join other Challengers in the bar for beer and chatter.

In the morning, Chrissie shoulders her rucsac and sets off. Me and the pups don't linger. We're away north again for our own adventures. First though, I dart into Kyle of Lochalsh and the chemist, to replace the hayfever eye drops which Pebbles devoured while we were talking outside the van this morning!

I've resolved not to try anything too strenuous in the hills with both dogs. Pebbles can't really be trusted off the lead and I don't want my, or their, safety compromised. So big mountain walks are out while Chrissie's away.

We head off to retrace earlier tracks and stay the night at a free campsite in Shieldaig. We take a similar walk to when we were here last. The sky's moody.

We thread our way up to Glen Torridon for a walk I've fancied for a while. Last time we were here it was lousy weather, with no views. Today is better. We head up to Coire Mhic Fhearchair, said to be one of Scotland's most spectacular mountain corries, it doesn't disappoint.

On a longish walk, the dogs are pretty good. I can let Islay off the lead and, after minor, initial frustration, Pebbles soon settles to walking with me, by my side. We lunch in the splendour of the coire.

Our timing is perfect. Shortly after returning to the van, the rain hits, for the first time in around two weeks.

But we're cosy inside our travelling apartment. We pass a quiet evening and night in the car park in the Glen then we're off down into Kinlochewe and a stroll up to the Heights of Kinlochewe to "admire" the HEP works all the way up the valley. It's a good stretch of legs though before we head off towards one of my favourite campsites in Poolewe.

We turn up at the Camping & Caravanning Club's site in Poolewe, only to find it full. It's mid-week in May. I've never had this before but it's clear what the problem is. Some few years back the concept of the North Coast 500 was announced; a 500 mile route starting from Inverness and taking in a circuit via Ullapool of the whole of the north coast of the Highlands. Now that's all well and good but, those familiar with the roads hereabouts will understand when I say they're not best suited to an influx of large numbers of cars, caravans, motorhomes and motorcycles. As a motorcyclist, who's done this journey many times over the years it does become tiring waiting as groups of up to 15 bikes pass through while you're waiting patiently at a passing place on a single track road. I only ever travelled alone or with one fellow biker. And then there's the folk who think it appropriate to travel in a convoy of three motorhomes together, making it almost impossible to fit them in one passing place. In my very humble opinion, the North Coast 500 is a "very bad idea". But it's too late. The genie's out of the bottle now. I've no doubt it's good for businesses up here but I used to come for solitude, not traffic. My contribution will be, henceforth, to avoid as much as possible this silly circuit.

Anyoldhow, backtracking to Gairloch finds me an' the pups on a pleasant commercial site, which is also very cheap. Result! We take a walk up the valley to some wateryfalls. Later I cook up an all-day-breakfast feast while the dogs snooze and some weather rolls in.

The following day a walk around Loch Kernsary from Poolewe offers a view of the crannog...

...and a drive up the road finds a perfect spot for the night, on the coast...where I spend the afternoon watching seals on the rocks below. An utter delight. And totally unexpected.

The next day sees us on a stand-out walk of this section of the trip as we climb up Gleann Chaorachain and over to Shanavall bothy near Loch na Sealga.

Fab. Leaves me with ideas for a future backpacking trip.

From here we begin to edge our way towards Inverness then south to the Cairngorms for a rendezvous with Adventure Girl. We shop, refuel and manage good walks along the way.

I receive a text from daughter, Abi.
"Phone me when you and Chrissie are together again."
Cryptic...

After a walk through the forest from Carrbridge we arrive at the Glenmore campsite and settle in.

It's Saturday morning and the forecast's for rain, rain and more rain. I think about Chrissie. We embark on a walk through Rothiemurchus, up to the lodge and then climbing to Eag a' Chait. It's wet, but the forest and moor are full of green life. We pass by Utsi's hut, named after the guy who reintroduced reindeer to the Cairngorms. We even hear a reindeer barking not too far away. As I look towards the noise I see it running off into the trees.

Late in the afternoon Adventure Girl arrives...wet.

She's tired, has sore feet and needs some TLC. But I still admire her determination.

I phone Abi, with the phone on speaker so Chrissie can hear.
"You're going to be grandparents..."
A shock...but a very pleasant one. We laugh, smile, wish Abi and Dave congratulations and swear not to let my Dad, soon to be a Great Grandfather, know...yet.

We hang the tent to dry under the van's awning. Chrissie repacks her rucsac with food she'd left in the van and does her best to relax and, in the morning, she's away...again.

Me and the pups pack up, refill the van with water and set off on our road trip again.

We continue, but it feels different. I'm preoccupied with Chrissie's progress. I watch, nervously, her movements on the Social Hiking site, her Spot device plotting her position every 10 minutes. I make sure the dogs and I get a decent walk every day, but I need to keep moving to ensure I'm at the coast when Chrissie arrives. She used up her spare day tending to blisters early on in the trip so will need a lift to Montrose from wherever as soon as she finishes.

My mind on other things I take fewer photos.

I'm deliberately not going into too much detail about Chrissie's TGOC crossing, not wanting to steal any of her, richly deserved, thunder but you'll read all about it here and also here. As I write, she's up to part two but I'm sure the rest will be along soon.

But, finally, she hit the sea again in Aberdeen...on a warm sunny afternoon.

In case it's not absolutely bleedin' obvious, I'm very proud of my special Adventure Girl for completing her first attempt at TGOC solo. She's brave, determined and resilient, probably more so than me. I love her.

In Montrose we meet other Challengers at the Park Hotel and enjoy the evening, celebration dinner. It's very pleasant chatting with folk we know as well as those we've never met before today. The evening ends with us sharing stories...and beer...and Scotch with Rich in the van.

And we are soon shooting back down the A1 towards home.

As we approach Edinburgh Chrissie sees a message on Twitter from our friend Andy. Did he see us, around five minutes ago, on the A90 approaching the Forth Road Bridge? Andy had been driving his Royal Mail truck northwards. A coincidence indeed!

We need to be back home in time to dog sit for my daughter and son-in-law's pooch whilst they're away in Italy. Leaving us to deep clean our home-on-wheels and turn our thoughts to backpacking in Sarek, Arctic Sweden in August, the likelihood of September in France and the small matter of our first grandchild whose arrival is eagerly anticipated in November. We've been away for six weeks but it's always good to be home. It's been a wonderful trip filled with memories, encounters with friends, old and new, and excitement.

Meanwhile...Chrissie recovers from another dose of Lyme disease...

May the fun continue.

Springing in the Highlands 2017, part 1

It’s late April and we’re heading north…again. As usual, we spend the night with my dear Dad in Wetherby then push on to pass a night in the countryside of County Durham. 

North, north we go into Scotland. We cross the Forth Road Bridge and wonder at the new crossing, almost finished. It’s likely we’ll be on that if we’re up here next year. Another night goes by in a quiet car park near Pitlochry.

Our next stop is Newtonmore Hostel, where Chrissie’s dropping off a food parcel. She’ll be here in a coupla weeks, along her TGO Challenge walk.  Ali makes us tea and welcome, and we swap stories. We drive up the road into the hills and take a pleasant walk up Glen Banchor. 

The following day it’s Morag’s Lodge in Fort Augustus with another food parcel, then along the road towards Glen Shiel. We overnight by the loch near the Cluanie Inn and, in the morning, we follow a track up into the hills for an hour or so. Along the way, three walkers approach.

“You must be Geoff…and Chrissie.”

We’re quite taken aback.

“David”, he says, “…David Lintern.”

Now, it’s fair to say, we both follow David on Twitter. He’s a very accomplished photographer and writer. He follows us, but it seems unlikely he’d know us.

“How did you recognise us?” I ask.

“Chrissie’s headband and your red glasses…and the dogs of course,” says he, smiling. 

A small world. We enjoy chatting with David, Stefan (who we also follow on Twitter) and Mike (who we follow now). We gossip and laugh and the dogs force their attention on the poor guys. It’s made Chrissie’s day. She’s always wanted to be recognised as, “the woman with the boxer”.

After coffee at the Inn, and a further chat with David, we’re away to the Caravan Club site at Morvich. We have an assignation here with James, and Mark Waring. James arrives shortly after us at the site.  He’s been walking and backpacking around the Highlands for a week or more already. He’s staying the night in our apartment on wheels and we talk endlessly, generally take the piss out of each other, eat, drink, then drink some more, before making a laughable attempt at assembling the spare bed.

There’s snow around. James wanders off in his Doblo for a walk and we take a hike up Glen Lecht. Come the afternoon James returns, his walk thwarted by cold and snow, and we drive to the store at Glen Shiel to meet Mark, who’s coming off the hill. He’s wet! Mark is a seasoned Arctic traveller who, along with James, gave us loads of advice on our Arctic Sweden trek last year. We’ve never met before but conversation is easy, informative and amusing. It’s strange to think the four us will all be in the Scandinavian Arctic later this year…in different locations and slightly different times.

Back at the site I cook up an all-day breakfast for our guests before Mark’s bus connection is due. James is off too, transporting Mark to the bus stop.

More snow means we spend a further two nights on the site before heading further north.

We camp outside Shieldaig then head towards Ullapool. On the way, Islay displays signs that her anal glands are causing her some discomfort. She and I are off on the Sutherland Trail in a couple of days. A vet is needed. We have insufficient data to search the internet but Twitter comes to the rescue. A quick question and several friends send us details of local vets. It means a detour to Dingwall but not too far. Choccy paws is soon relieved and we take advantage of downtown Dingwall for food shopping, diesel and LPG. Then, a quick dash up to a camp by Ardvreck Castle.

In the morn we hit Lochinver, and Islay and I set off for a week on the Sutherland Trail. The walking is delightful as we head out past Suilven and Canisp. Islay has her bed, pjs, towel, waterproof coat and bowl in her Ruffwear Palisades pack. The load’s about 2kg which we think is more than enough. Textbooks say a dog could carry up to 25% of body weight, which for Islay would mean 6kg. I prefer to keep her happy so I’m carrying her food, as well as mine, for the four day leg. With three nights, it’s equivalent to a six night load for me, since her food weighs similar to mine. So the sac’s heavy. Because of this, and my increasing dislike of exposure, I’ve no interest in climbing Suilven. Some may be surprised at my discomfort with exposure, given extensive mountain rescue experience. But in rescue, the emphasis is always on safety of the team. Hence you’re always secured near steep drops. Also, my attitude has changed with age. I did Crib Goch and the Aonach Eagach and other such tomfoolery many moons back, but nowadays I’m happiest travelling through wild country. I will climb hills but it’s not a prerequisite for an enjoyable trip.

We camp above Lochan Fada. It’s fine but there’s a stiff breeze, the first time our Terra Nova Southern Cross 2 has seen wind. The windward side blows in quite a lot but it remains stable, its six feet anchored solidly to the ground. Me an’ the pup are snug inside, reading (Islay’s a Stephen King fan), eating, drinking and snoozing. In the morning we climb Canisp’s lower slopes. The terrain reminds me of Arctic Sweden. As we drop towards Inchnadamph we tackle an expected river crossing. I remove boots and socks and don mesh running shoes. It’s straightforward. The water is just below my knees. Reaching the far bank I stop and turn. Islay’s still on t’other side. I call her. She crosses the easy bit but balks at the deeper section. Opening her pouch of meaty grub won’t even tempt her. It’s no use. I leave my pack, cross again, attach her lead and cajole her into following me. Hence, I complete the crossing three times! I love my dog.

We hit the road for a while and set off for a mile or so before we turn onto another track. On the way, we meet Chrissie, pootling down the road in the van. She offers tea in a nearby car park. It’s only when we stop to remove Islay’s pack that it becomes clear she’s uncomfortable. Why, we’re not sure. After a treat or two she settles into a deep sleep. She’s knackered. After much discussion we decide she needs a rest. I can only conclude it’s a combination of the pack and running around on difficult terrain. My dog’s health is more important than slavishly following a trail. I also become disconcerted at the thought of walking 4.5 miles along the busy A road near Kylesku. It’s probably a consequence of suddenly finding myself back in the four star luxury of our home-on-wheels. If I hadn’t met Chrissie I’d just have carried on…and probably found myself in a difficult situation with an unhappy dog. Plans are rehashed completely.

We come across the beautiful campsite at Scourie and spend two nights there. By a remarkable coincidence we note from Twitter that Stuart David is on the same site with his wife. A quick exchange of tweets sees Stuart popping round for a chat.

Islay is back to her normal, bouncy self. We drive down to West Merkland and Chrissie drops me off with two night’s supplies. I’ve decided to take an easy route, with short days, the better to accommodate my canine pal. I love backpacking with my dog and only leave her behind when it’s absolutely necessary.

Passing through the Bealach nam Meirleach on an old track is a fine walk. We meet a friendly gamekeeper who stops his truck for a chat. We pause for lengthy snack breaks and photos. The sun shines. Life is good. Camp is made on higher ground with a magnificent view of Ben Hope.

The morning brings more fine weather and we pick our way down slopes to meet the track from Gobernuisgach Lodge, west to Achfary. The steady climb up to Bealach na Feithe is easy and gives views of the sweeping Coire an Achdaich. We drop over the bealach to camp in a truly idyllic location by a clear, tumbling stream. It’s level, grassy, dry and the sun beats down. Choccy Paws and I settle to an afternoon of eating, drinking and sunbathing. Bliss!

Deer graze on nearby slopes as we retire to our slumbers, to the accompaniment of the babbling stream. The morning brings a pleasant wander downhill where, by the old cottage at Lone, we meet Chrissie and Pebbles. We hear the tale of Chrissie’s encounter with a member of the upper class intelligentsia (otherwise known as a twat). I do my best to soothe her frazzled nerves.

We’re on the road again. We explore Tongue then drive down Strathnaver, scene of some of the worst of the Highland Clearances. Then it’s down through Altnaharra to Dingwall again and here, beautiful Rosemarkie on the Black Isle. We spend an entertaining evening meeting Twitter friend Callum who lives just down the road in Avoch. Callum’s intelligent and outspoken, and it’s good to hear his views on Scottish politics, independence and, his speciality, wildlife issues up here in the Highlands. As I write, we’re planning on leaving tomorrow for Glen Shiel again where, on Friday, Chrissie will embark on her solo TGO Challenge. For me…two weeks alone in the van with daft, but lovable pups. We’re three weeks into our trip and it’s been just great so far. I set off with some trepidation about driving this much bigger van on Highland roads. It’s been fine though. Single tracks are no issue at all, being well served with passing places. On narrow, two lane roads we’ve found other drivers to be mostly considerate, especially the professionals in their HGVs.

More next time.

Smile!

The perils of an online presence

I write this partly as an apology to the kind souls who, from time to time, respond to my posts here. Up to now I have always been happy to allow "comments" without feeling the need to moderate them. Sadly, last night, this changed. I was on the receiving end of two particularly unpleasant comments here which, once I saw them, I immediately deleted. I am in absolutely no doubt as to who sent them and they were clearly a reaction to this recent post. If you have time, you may wish to read the numerous comments there. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions.

I have, therefore, reluctantly decided to moderate all comments from now on. As ever, I'm grateful for interaction and, given evidence of courtesy, am happy to post some which may include disagreement with my views. As you will see, you may still comment but it will take a little time for me to view them via email before I choose to allow them to appear. I remain optimistic and trust that disallowing will apply rarely.

In addition to this, and as a result of the above abuse, Chrissie has decided to lock her Twitter account this morning. I haven't yet taken this action. It's clear to us both that, despite being blocked, the individual concerned is taking a perverse pleasure in watching our Twitter accounts by covert means. So be it. It must be a forlorn way to lead one's life. It's particularly sad though that this all refers back to Chrissie's selfless response to a plea for help, online, some four years ago. We have both been named recently in one particular place online, as guilty parties in that individual's own version of the events all those years ago. This may be libelous and two thoughts have been on my mind recently. The first is to take legal advice around libel and the second is the exact and accurate recounting of those events in my own words on here. In fact, I would prefer to do neither, but I'm sure many of you will understand my feelings.

Thanks to all of you out there in the ether for bothering to read my bletherings. Your input is appreciated and, usually, enjoyed. Chrissie and I have both made many interesting and pleasant contacts online in recent years. Some of you out there we are pleased to count as good friends. We thank you. You know who you are. The fact remains that the positive experiences far outweigh the negative.

I wish you all well and look forward to more helpful, interesting and pleasant interactions both online and, indeed, out in the real world. Yes, it does still exist.

And Islay and Pebbles send you ALL big sloppy kisses.

Smile!

I'm an expert!

I'm an expert in...hillwalking, backpacking, mountain rescue, wilderness first aid, motorhomes, independent travel, motorcycle touring, teaching motorcycling, cycling and cycle touring, dogs and backpacking with dogs...and travelling with dogs and...

I could go on...and on...and on. But I won't cos actually I'm not really an expert in any of these fields. BUT, and it's a big but, I do have considerable experience of all of them. and so, to my point...my rant of the day if you will.

I dip into a good number of blogs. Some I read carefully, some I merely scan. I find many interesting, informative, amusing, A few have elements of all these traits. However, it's become apparent to me in recent times that there is a new type of blogger emerging. This new breed seeks to enter a new world of interesting pursuits. Being focused to a large extent on the world of hillwalking, trekking, backpacking and wild camping, my experiences are limited for the most part on these pursuits, so, here, I'm restricting my comments to this subject area. This new recruit, blogger - let's call him Bert, just for fun - will seek out information, often via social media, sample a few ideas and progress their skills. They will often search the internet for advice on gear, techniques and the like, the better to enjoy their new found activity. Much of this will sound familiar to many of you. I do all these things regularly, almost subconsciously, for I am always willing to learn. Many are the backpacking trips with a friend where I return with a new trick, a different idea, another way of solving a small problem. This is how we learn. How we improve. I see mention of a new bit of kit on social media; I look, consider, dismiss or look further.

So far, Bert and I are alike. We're interested. Keen. Bert carries on with his pursuit, bubbling with enthusiasm but then...something happens...something strange. A metamorphosis occurs. Bert disappears, quietly, into a virtual, internet telephone box and emerges...transformed...like a pupating chrysalis. For now, Bert has become...(drum roll)...an EXPERT!

Now...see their blog. It is filled with pages of...ADVICE. List upon list of what one should carry on a day hike, all you need to wild camp, rules for lightening your load. The opportunities for Bert are, it would seem, limitless. But wait...is this the same Bert who, just last week was asking for advice on wild camping...yet now is pontificating to one and all on the dos and don'ts of this most eccentric of activities? Yes, dear reader, it is he. The same. The very same.

Do you recognise Bert? You should, because he is everywhere. And he is driving me up the proverbial wall.

Back to the beginning. I am NOT an expert. I am a blogger. I write for my own personal amusement and, sometimes it seems, the amusement of a few others. I tell tales of my experiences, successes, failures. I tell of stuff I use, skills I employ. But, I try NOT to pontificate about MY gear being the best, MY technique being the right one. That's for you to decide. Try it, dismiss it, like it. I don't mind. But...Bert...please don't give me a list of techniques for sucking eggs which you yourself, discovered only the day before via Google. Please!

Bert. This is addressed mostly to you. Grow up! Be respectful. Admit your own shortcomings and we, the great unwashed, will likely respond with kindness and help. Tell us what stuff you've tried and how you found it. But don't tell me (the old one, with the grey beard and more nights and days in the wilds, the wind, the rain, the snow than I care to remember) what I must use, how I must do this or that. Behave like the smartarse you clearly are not, and we will ignore, close the page, hit the "unfollow" button and leave you to drown in your pit of undeserved self-congratulation.

You have been warned.

BTW no actual Berts were harmed during the writing of this post. Nor, indeed any Bertinas. But, after it's written...well, who knows?

Oh, and by the way Bert. If you place a request on social media asking for specific advice, please don't go to sleep for a hundred years without checking to see if anyone responded. It is staggeringly rude not to acknowledge the response someone gave just minutes after your request appeared. Don't ask me how I know.

And breathe...