Sunday 3rd June, A 16-ish mile walk from Mobberley Church

Ding Dong Bell

I’d intended going for a brain-straightening walk on this day – hopefully managing to avoid Jubilee celebrations into the bargain.

Mate Steve ‘Fast’ Blackshaw had phoned a couple of days before asking if I fancied joining him on a recce of a route he’d been working on. I didn’t need asking twice. Continuing my theme of doing walks from very close to home, Steve’s route was just the job.

 Fast Blackshaw and me

Steve collected me at 8.30am and we headed of down to Mobberley, only a 10 – 15 minute drive from Timperley. We parked up across from Mobberley Church which dates back to 1206…so it’s pretty old. It was going to be a warm day but at 9am, as we started walking, it was chilly enough to need a windproof – although only for a short time.

We headed south through Mobberley Field (National Trust) to cross some fields to a short bit of tarmac but were soon back on footpaths again. This part of Cheshire has some beautiful houses and at this time of the year they look their best.

Bridges over Pedley Brook and Marthall Brook took us past what appeared to be old sites of peat-extraction, the ground appeared to have been excavated down to about 15ft over quite a large area.

A bit of a navigational faff delayed our progress a little, I blame little used footpaths but it was more likely down to yacking too much. Crossing fields of barley we had Knutsford to our right (west) and Ollerton village to the south. It’s more of a hamlet really – it’s got a pub, but we were far too early to partake. Anyway we had a long walk ahead and a couple of pints would have seen the pair of us off for the rest of the day!

A brief foray along the A537 at Ollerton and we entered peaceful woodland paths to Toft and Toft Hall. The woodland was commercially ‘harvested’ (if that’s the right word) for firewood. There were some really interesting old vehicles still in use:

Walking a little further we spotted a nice little pad standing in it’s own grounds:

The rather grand Toft Hall

The Peover villages were next on our agenda. There are lots of Peovers - Peover Superior, Peover Inferior, Peover Heath….and many more. My late mother was evacuated to Peover in WW2, I only recently discovered the actual building she moved to - I gather it wasn’t a happy experience for her. The house she was evacuated to is now a very swish des-res occupied by fully paid-up members of the Cheshire Set, like so many of the houses in this affluent part of the county.

The Bells of Peover is now a gastro-pub, judging by the prices on the menu it’s aimed at the well-heeled of Cheshire.

Around the back of the pub is the 11th century St Oswald’s Church, decorated for the Jubilee celebrations later that day. Rather than eat in the pub (we’d probably need another mortgage) we enjoyed a very lazy lunch of butties in the grounds of the church. We savoured the hot sunshine – I’d seen the weather forecast for the next day and it wasn’t good.

If it wasn’t for the grass-cutting playing merry-hell with my hay fever I’m sure we’d have stayed longer.

A rare sight: A static Fast Blackshaw

The Elizabethan Peover Hall, a most magnificent moated building dating back to 1585, is set in expansive grounds with enough footpaths to get good views of the hall. The grounds are beautifully well-kept, I shudder to think what the overheads of that place are!

Peover Hall

Over more fields dotted with buttercups we spotted some bold wildlife – it must have been bold, it didn’t budge when I crept up to take photographs:

The bright sunshine really enhanced these patriotically-coloured rhododendrons:

The Post Office closures continue in Over Peover:

Our bearing was now very north, heading back in the direction of Mobberley. Another rest stop to finish off the last of our butties and drain the flasks and it got peculiarly cloudy.

Off again and a number of footpath diversions later we had a couple more navigational faffs and an unpleasant encounter with Mrs Angry-Farmer.

NF No1: What was once a farm is now a croquet club (this IS a posh part of Cheshire). Signs indicated there was a legitimate path diversion, fair enough. The signs even pointed us in the right direction….but then left us to our own devices. There was absolutely no other indication of the new route. So we did what I would have done in the Scottish Highlands: I took a compass bearing aimed at the croquet lawn / field exit and followed it. Sorted!

NF No2: It’s difficult to tell from the map, but I think it’s on the land belonging to Ash Farm (SJ774756) where we valiantly tried to follow a completely inadequately signed R.o.W. We spent a good 10 minutes trying to identify the path on the ground, but we clearly got it wrong.

It wasn’t that we deliberately went wrong, after all, who wants to go off-track? Anyway, this path wiggled around a hedge in a most odd manner, but we kept our eyes skinned for footpath signs – we didn’t spot any.

The wibbley-wobbley path

We made the best of a bad job and headed to the edge of a field where we KNEW there was another footpath that we needed to follow.  The field was uncultivated and quite rough – we weren’t damaging anything. Honest.

In the far distance I heard a tractor, engine running flat-out by the sound of it. I thought nothing of it until the engine noise was really quite loud – we were being chased by Mrs Angry-Farmer. (Double-barrelled names aren’t uncommon around these parts)

The vitriol hurled at us took me aback, such was her anger. Whatever we said in our defence wasn’t going to do any good – our protest that we weren’t deliberately off-track fell on deaf ears, we were guilty and should be hanged!

I walked away, and wished her a cheery good day – I hope it wound her up.

Reassured that we were now on the right track, the last few miles whizzed by. We spotted a fox and one of it’s cubs in a hedgerow – but I wasn’t fast enough with the camera. Buzzards have become a more common sight in towns these days but it’s still refreshing to see them hunting (‘quartering’ according to my ornithology teacher) in the open.

Entering the village of Mobberley, and passing the delightfully named Spout Lane, we were saddened to see the sorry sight of the Roebuck Inn – closed. Fortunately the Bull’s Head across the road is still open for business although that in itself isn’t all good – the new owners of the pub seem to have turfed off the crown-green bowling club. (Do you get that? Turfed, bowling green? Geddit? Oh never mind) The bowling green is now an extension to the beer garden.

The village cricket team was in action although I’ve no idea who they were fighting. If a typical English village really exists then Mobberley could be it!

The church came back into view, signifying the end of our walk. I’m not entirely sure if the brain-straightening part of the walk worked, but it was a grand day out!

Today’s vital statistics: 16 miles with around 450ft up upness.

Sunday 27th May, a walk in Cheshire

 

I had only arrived home from the TGO Challenge 2 days earlier and here I was, involved in leading a long walk for the East Lancashire LDWA. The walk, entitled ‘Jump in the Lake + Afternoon Tea’ was a slight variation on the route I had previously been involved with.

The route covered 16 miles in the gentle countryside of North Cheshire – and it had a trig point.

I awoke at Stupid O’Clock on the Sunday morning and thought ‘Ooh-er, it’s not raining. And the sun’s shining…..perhaps people WILL turn up for today’s walk!’

I arrived at the start to find 17 walkers milling around the genteel back streets of Hale, much to the consternation of the local residents. They hadn’t seen so much on-street activity since, well, the riots of last summer? Perhaps not.

Expeditionary Force of the East Lancs LDWA on a sortie into Cheshire

At 9.03am prompt we set off, all of us were well-plastered with suncream, wearing hats etc, such was the strength of the sun.

Walking through pleasant woodland (well I thought it was pleasant!!) we soon gained the banks of the River Bollin, it’s rippling surface dappled by the bright sunshine that flickered through the leafy trees.

There’s artistic for you. It goes downhill from here.

I’ve been involved in leading this walk before, but this time the route has been changed ever-so slightly. Previously we went through Castle Mill, but this time we bypassed the place and climbed away from the river bank across green fields. The climb was to prove to Norman that there were climbs in our part of Cheshire. There was a trig point too. There’s to be a commando-type raid soon, the idea being to clean up the trig point and paint it in an attempt to return it to it’s former glory. But I’ve no idea who may be responsible for that. Honest.

Norman & Barbara. And a mucky trig point.

Heading towards Manchester Airport’s now not-so-new Runway 2, we walked through a lot of ‘manufactured’ countryside. When the runway works were approved, a condition of the development was that the Airport Authority return the surrounding area to a habitat suitable for the wildlife that was once common in the area. This they have done with great success with lots of small ponds, woodland, buildings suitable for bats and so on. It was the area used by the environmental protestor ‘Swampy’ to stage his demonstrations.

We were soon level with the end of one of the airport runways and spent a good few minutes watching planes land and take off. It’s a man thing.

Another splendid rear view

Once again following the River Bollin and on airport-only roadways and tracks, the River Bollin culvert appeared. Norman was impressed….so it MUST be good. Again, wildlife is well catered for in this man-made tunnel, nesting boxes and wild-life ‘runs’ had been provided by the developers. On a previous walk through the tunnel anglers were fishing for trout – although I don’t know if they were successful.

River Bollin culvert under Manchester Airport’s Runway 2

A first lunch stop was called, and a pleasant 20 or so minutes was spent in the sunshine before we wandered of in a southerly direction, alongside Runway 2.

First lunch stop

Alongside Runway 2

Our route took us through more (flat) pleasant countryside, and around mid-day a second lunch stop was called for on a green and grassy bank close to the Manchester – Chester railway line. Setting off once again, one of our group pointed out that the A380 Airbus was due to land at Manchester Airport at 12.20 – and that we were directly under the flightpath. At 12.20 precisely, the earth moved. If you’ve ever seen the opening scene from Star Wars it might give you some idea of how enormous the A380 is – absolutely huge. It’s another man-thing.A big ‘un

Skirting the village of Mobberley, we walked through lots of horsey fields. Two horses, separated by an electric fence, were leaning over the barrier to, er, lick each others backs. It was tragically comical to hear the loud neighs of protest when they accidently touched up against the high voltage line.

Electric horses

Onwards through to Knutsford – and a stop at an ice-cream shop. Very welcome in the heat.

Into the cool shade of Tatton Park’s woodland and alongside Tatton Mere. This was the body of water used by No1 Parachute Training School to practice water landings by parachute during WW2.

Monument to No1 Parachute Training School

A very poignant memorial to the training school provided us with another photo opportunity, not just of the memorial, but also the views over the Peak District – the distinctive profile of Shutlingsloe being very prominent.

The very grand Tatton Hall (NT), once the seat of the Egerton family, and it’s equally grand outbuildings provided yet another stop – for comfort if nothing else. The courtyard was teaming with day-visitors, all enjoying the hot sunshine.

To leave the park we had to pass Home Farm which provides a picture of rural life where time has stood still since the 1930s.

Across to farmland and following a church track, we soon arrived at the main attraction of the day: St Mary’s Church, Rostherne.

St Mary’s Church, Rostherne

Tea, coffee and scones (pronounced SCONS) were provided by the church at minimal cost to us, but more importantly we were made extremely welcome and enjoyed a fascinating talk about the church’s history.

What DID our lecturer think of these boot-clad, sweaty Lancastrian walkers?

Little is known about the early history of the church. There is no reference to a church at Rostherne in the Domesday Book but a deed dated 1188 states that a church had been on the site. Prior to that it was a site of Pagan worship – like so many now-Christian churches.

Norman insisted he show us where he used to go birdwatching by Rostherne Mere….although I couldn’t quite make mind up if he was talking of the feathered or un-feathered variety.

It wasn’t long before we once again crossed the River Bollin and we were back at our cars.

We were at the end of the day’s expedition and the sun was still very hot. I’m sure that, even with suncream, many of the group will suffer some degree of sunburn.

It was a cracking day out and thanks must go to everyone who turned up to make it such a success – especially John Bullen who arranged the Afternoon Tea bit – a brilliant idea!.

The only sad bit was that John, still suffering from South West Coast Path-itis was unable to join us. John: you missed a grand day out!

My photo album of the day is here.

 

Vital statistics:

16 miles with 240m of upness

or 26km with 780ft of up

After The Great Wetting of The Feet

 

Preparing to leave the beach and head for Control in the Park Hotel we spotted Nik slithering through the dunes and coming towards us. She dipped her tootsies in the sea and more photographs were taken. Lots of hugs and kisses later (this ‘finishing the Challenge’ malarkey is A Good Thing for a chap) we finally dragged ourselves away to sign in and collect our certificates, T shirts and badges.

 

Nik

The New Controller seem to have everything under control and it was good to see Roger and Patricia Smith, Steph and baby Jack – and also to meet Robin Woodger, the voice on the phone for the first week, for the first time.

Gallons of Patricia’s tea was drunk and we caused some serious damage to Control’s biscuit reserves as we chatted to other Challengers. It was clear to me that many of these people were hanging around to see if they could pick up any tips from The Master Biscuit Liberator. They learnt nothing – I keep my secrets very close to my chest.

After bathing / showering or whatever (and donning clean clothes – now that WAS a treat!) it was time to eat. We had arranged to go for an early evening curry with other Challengers before returning to the Park for the bun fight speeches.

The Indian Restaurant already had a couple of Challengers ensconced and enjoying their meal. We sat down and before long were joined by hoards of green – T shirted Challengers, all seeking decent food.

Judith Barnes, Peter, & Louise

Back to the Park and proceedings were in full swing. The meal had all but finished – it was now wall-to-wall speeches and presentations. I normally avoid such occasions, but a Challenge dinner is a spectacle to be savoured….apart from the food that is.

The New Controller, Roger Smith and JD all excelled in their speeches – it was particularly pleasing to see Bill from Callater being presented with a large bottle of something very alcoholic.

Adjourning to the bar after the speeches is a great opportunity to catch up with Challengers from previous years – or even Challengers only encountered earlier on the current year’s event. I wasn’t disappointed – even Denis had made it to Montrose. We had a long chat about his decision to retire from the event, it was quite clear that there was no way he could have continued any further than Aviemore. He had made the absolutely correct choice. I just hope that if ever I’m in that position I take the same line of action - and that pig-headedness doesn’t take over.

Croydon, a Challenge ‘extra’ this year, led singing at one end of the bar. Other Challengers simply talked of their experiences. More than a few drank copiously. It was odd to see a room so full of green T shirts. It was an unforgettable night.

Denis, Louise & JJ

Roger Hoyle and Mike Knipe

Sandy, Carol, Denis & Louise

Carl, Andrew, Alistair & Lynsey

T’other Lynsey and Peter

The following morning it was time to go home and it was very hard to leave. Martin & Sue had kindly offered me a lift to Timperley in their car. I’d managed to pick up a freebie train ticket from Control and decided to make use of it. Sitting on the train would give me the chance to get some shut-eye on the journey – not so easy in a car.

I was later to discover the ticket was Lynsey’s, but she’d now opted to go home with Alistair in their car – so I owe her more than a couple of pints!

I wandered down to Montrose Railway Station with all the other Challengers, it really was a moment tinged with sadness. I had enjoyed a marvellous Challenge and now it was the REAL end…..until next year anyway!

Lots of shaking of hands, kisses and hugs later, the train left. I sat with Judith for most of the journey back, in between my snoring I rather fancy we talked non-stop about our wonderful two weeks in Scotland.

I’m already plotting next year’s Challenge – it promises to be exceptional!

I hope.

Day 14, not to Johnshaven again.

….but to Montrose

Chatting with the Brocklehursts at breakfast the subject of today’s route came up.

My intended finish point of Johnshaven was clearly just not going to happen, Louise’s finish at Braidon Bay was similarly out. We’d stuck together so far so it made sense to finish together.

After discussing the situation with Margaret and David, we all decided to finish in Montrose – that was the shortest route to the coast.

Leaving our B&B we did a little shopping in Edzell before heading south through Edzell Arch:

Louise, with the excellent David & Margaret Brocklehurst at Edzell

We set off at a cracking pace, my navigator’s feet seeming to hold up quite well. Up until now it had been quite impossible for her to set off quickly, it had been taking a good 30-40 paces for her to be able to pick up any speed.

Today’s walk was virtually all tarmac, not the best choice for delicate bits on the end of legs. However by using grassy verges where available a lot of very hard ground was avoided and she managed well.

Trudging up (or down?) a quiet lane we caught up with Richard and Rosemary having a 5 minute break in the welcome shade of some roadside woodland.

Richard & Rosemary, David & Margaret, and my navigator

We continued, all eventually arriving at the NTS property at House of Dun. Entry was by climbing a locked wrought-iron gate, the alternative being a long road walk = there was no alternative!

The café at the House of Dun is spectacular. And it has cakes! Considering the heat of the day, we all made the seemingly daft choice of hot soup – it was lovely! Loads of tea and a large piece of cake each soon had us fighting fit again. Well all apart from Louise who’s feet were once again complaining.

I sat her outside in the sunshine and began to operate once again. It was at this point that Margaret, a retired Pathologist, stepped in to take over the delicate bits. After some considerable time the fetid feet were feeling (and looking) good again. Margaret had worked wonders with the use of Second Skin and lots of other fancy medical-type stuff.

Louise can barely look as Margaret performs miracles

Her work done, Margaret left us to join husband David on the final walk in to Montrose. We trundled off, ever grateful to this angel of mercy for her kind works.

Our lunch stop….and that’s a smile. Honest.

 

The House of Dun

Following the hot tarmac into Montrose was like walking into a hairdryer, but with traffic. We sought shade wherever we could. We both cheered up immensely as we closed in on our target.

        

Happiness is a Montrose sign!

Not knowing the quickest way to the sea we stopped and chatted to a lollypop man who gave us directions, minutes later we were within sight of the North Sea.

Little Miss Stubborn Louise had decreed that she would walk to the beach and into the foamy stuff with her boots on and carrying full kit, and so she did. A repack of her rucksack and change of footwear on the golfcourse saw us marching purposefully eastwards. Eastwards is good for this trip, I may have mentioned this before.

Arriving on the east coast at the end of the Challenge is always a little emotional. I don’t mind admitting that it got a bit too much for the pair of us this time.

Wet feet …. Again! But this time we don’t mind.

Strathcarron to Montrose….with blisters!

Louise’s Blog report

……more to follow shortly.

I’m going for a long walk tomorrow. Because I’m worth it and because I need to.

Day 13, to Northwaterbridge….Not

 

Actually only as far as Edzell.

The agonising state of my navigators feet needed to be addressed. Walking was now extremely painful, even wearing sandals. She agreed that I should try to carry out repairs in the interests of her not having to finish the Challenge by walking on her hands.

Health Warning: If you’re squeamish, look away now.

Sitting on the grass with a large bottle of something strong (and that was just me!!) I carefully removed the dressings. It wasn’t a pretty sight – blisters in various states, bruising, blackened nails etc. Not good.

Roger Hoyle turned up to assist and he kindly applied some second skin, a seemingly magical treatment for blisters. All was well for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the discomfort was just excruciating.

Time for surgery.

I sterilised a very sharp knife and managed to drain the unburst blisters. I know that’s not accepted practice, but it was clear that it was the pressure from these blisters that was causing a lot of the pain.

The relief was almost instantaneous. I dried the open wounds and cleaned them with alcohol wash. I then applied antiseptic cream and dressed all the blisters with a special lint. By the time I’d finished there wasn’t much of her feet that was visible. Still, it worked!

We had intended to breakfast at The Retreat but the delays in carrying out foot repairs meant we were too late for the ‘Challenge Special Deal’. No matter, we’d just go for the All Day Breakfast – it was only an extra 50p or so. The waitress came back with the bad news that they had run out of bacon and sausages – although she later said the problem was that the chef didn’t want to cook. I was disappointed, The Retreat does well from the Challenge and I expected better.

A very expensive cheese sandwich later (£5 for a couple of pieces of buttered thin-sliced bread with some very ordinary cheese) we left to make our way to cross the bridge over the River North Esk at Dalhastnie. The foot repairs were holding out, and provided we didn’t push it too hard we should be okay.

The River North Esk from Dalhastnie

We had a 10 minute break at the bridge and were surprised to be joined by Nik. She didn’t hang around, and as she was moving faster than us we didn’t want to hold her back.

By now the sun was beating down – what a change from just a few days earlier. I was running out of suncream and had to be careful to stay covered up.

We took a few more breaks on the way to Edzell – it was impossible to move quickly even if we had wanted to, the combination of still tender feet and very strong sunshine saw to that.

Walking gently into Edzell, I shot off to do a recce – it was around 6.30pm and we needed feeding, a miserable apology for a cheese sandwich was all we’d eaten that day.

Was the Tuck Inn still open? Thankfully it was, and we joined other Challengers for a decent meal of fish and chips and lots of tea. Some of us had an extra portion of chips. Someone ELSE finished Louise’s chips as well!

A good night’s sleep followed, we needed it.

Day 12, to Tarfside

 

It would have been around 3am when I became aware of a cold bum. Minutes later it was getting decidedly uncomfortable…. on my deflated Pacific Outdoor Equipment airbed.

Soddit.

You may remember that it was only the previous day that Nik had suffered the same problem with the same manufacturer’s airbed. I was particularly miffed as this was a replacement airbed for one that had also failed on me. I had been assured that the problem was down to a manufacturing fault, but closer examination showed that my problem was exactly the same one that had caused my first mat to fail. It seems the (presumably) heat-sealed seams are the problem. When I investigated my first airbed failure I found lots of tiny holes, far too many to repair, around the seams. My replacement airbed had failed the same way – and only after around 20 nights.

Moral: don’t use POE airbeds. It’s a shame because they’re extremely comfortable, according to Nik they’re even more comfortable than the NeoAir.

I really don’t know what to do about this. POE guarantee their kit for life so there won’t be a problem having it replaced, but that’s no good if the stuff fails when you’re in the middle of nowhere.

I slept badly, just about managing by sleeping on a load of clothing.

Around 7.30am I had attempted to carry out a repair using the supplied repair kit. I must say I thought I’d been successful so I was looking forward to a reasonable night’s sleep the next night.

Louise soon arrived from her bunkhouse and we soon had a small band of Challengers all looking forward to the day’s walk.

As I packed my kit, Doug Bruce and Richard Baker appeared, loaded up with their packs. I felt a photograph coming on…..

Richard, Louise, Nik and Doug

With the two Irish unofficial Challengers

Today’s intended route involved heading over to the Mounth Road and over to Mount Keen. A navigational error (on my part) early in the day meant we were, er, slightly delayed.

It was getting quite hot even at this relatively early hour and before long a map consultation was called in a suitably shaded and comfortable spot at Bridge of Muick.

At Bridge of Muick

Leaving our very agreeably shady stop we aimed south along a LRT that skirted Craig Vallich and (this was where the nav error occurred) spent a good 20 minutes going round in circles. I blame the GPS.

Whilst trying to extricate ourselves from this navigational faff, we were being taunted by a most annoying cockerel. A shotgun at this time would have proved most useful….especially if I had known how to use one!

Cock-a-doodle-bloody-do!

Eventually, and quite happy we were now on track, we started our climb.

This IS the right way!

Ahead of us were the two Irish ‘Challengers’ – but they were moving at quite a pace and we soon lost sight of them. Gaining height, our views improved dramatically and we soon didn’t need much of an excuse to stop for a sit down and to drink in the expansive panorama.

 

The splendid view

Louise’s feet were still cause for concern. She was struggling, especially on the rocky tracks – the soles of her boots just didn’t protect her battered, bruised and blistered feet sufficiently. Most of the problem originated earlier in the trip when she suffered very wet feet. Progress was slow but steady. We weren’t in a rush – we were on our holidays!

Gingerly descending down into Glen Tanar we spotted a lone Akto pitched close to the ruin of Shiel of Glentanar. There was no-one around so we have no idea who it might have been.

Still not lost!

The bridge over Water of Tanar, Mount Keen in the background

Now climbing up the rocky path that would take us around the summit of Mount Keen, and with Louise’s feet complaining loudly, we realised the day was going to be longer than originally anticipated. No matter, we would just carry on at a manageable pace and stop to eat and drink when we felt the need.

Hunger overtook us at the Queen’s Well so we stopped for tea, soup and a well earned rest. In an attempt to alleviate her swollen feet, the ornamental surround of the spring was put to good use:

I hope it’s not a capital offence, but as well as using the Queen’s Well for limb elevation purposes, I used the stream emanating from the spring for a good wash down – I just hate feeling sticky. Alan, Phil and Andy will confirm that I don’t hold back when there’s chance for a good wash down!

Onwards, but now swathed in Paramo to stave off the chill, we headed off to Tarfside.

Summer arrived as we approached the road. Suspecting the onset of the male menopause (I told you I was old) I suddenly became all hot and sweaty. It was only when Louise commented on how hot she’d suddenly got that I realised it was getting much warmer – and it wasn’t merely because we were at a lower level, this was real warmth!.

Paramos removed, we hobbled carefully towards are stop for the night – still 2.5 miles away. Then I received another ornithology lesson: there, quartering it’s territory whilst looking for it’s late evening take-away meal, was a short-eared owl. Now up until this point dear readers, I had no idea what a short-eared owl even looked like, let alone appreciate it’s rarity. Louise was thrilled, whispering loudly and excitedly to me, explaining this birdy’s habits.

Our arrival in Tarfside was met with cheers from those drinking outside the Mason’s. It was late and we were tired and hungry, so as soon as we pitched and had eaten, we made straight for the Mason’s – for rehydration purposes you understand.

Nik, Alan and Ian - engaged in serious rehydration operations

Once again a sociable evening was enjoyed. Some were so sociable that by the end of the night they were decidedly wobbly.

Andrew getting very sociable

I climbed into my sleeping bag, on the still - inflated airbed and looked forward to a comfortable night’s sleep.

The airbed stayed up until around 3am.

Ho-hum.

Day 11, to Ballater

 

I bounced, well actually it more of a thud, out of bed at 6.45am to kettle and breakfast-type noises rising from the kitchen. My half-dozen room-mates were still sound asleep although Alan soon stirred and threatened to get up for a cup of tea. I slunk (is that a real word?) downstairs as quietly as possible – not easy in walking boots and carrying a pack.

A welcome mug of tea was thrust into my hands – I had a mouth like Ghandi’s flip-flop. Not nice. Jeanette, knowing I had to be away pronto, put me at the top of the bacon butty list. What a star she is!

Lynsey came up from her tent to see me off which was nice, then Alan made a brief appearance for tea before heading back to his bed for more much-needed sleep.

Dave Pickles, ?, and Lynsey at breakfast

It was hard to leave, I had once again had a marvellous time at Callater and I felt quite rude making such an early start whilst so many were still asleep – it seemed almost ungrateful.

I left the lodge with a heavy heart although cheered by the warm sunshine and thoughts of walking to Ballater in good company.

I arrived at Kate’s at around 9.30am to find my navigator sunning herself in the garden. I treated myself to a shower, shave, two mugs of coffee and a second breakfast before we headed off to Ballater via the Lion’s Face, a pleasant woodland footpath that avoids a long road walk.

We soon caught up with Nik and ended up walking as a threesome for quite some time. Nik had suffered an airbed disaster – her Pacific Outdoor Equipment airbed had failed catastrophically and she’d had to fork out £125 for a Neoair from the outdoor shop in Braemar. Not what you need on a trip like this.

Louise knew of another path through the Ballochbuie Forest that would ultimately take us to Balmoral without encountering any tarmac. It’s good to have the navigator on side!

An enjoyable lunch stop in pleasant sunshine, close to Connachat Cottage, gave Louise’s tootsies a welcome rest. She’s incredibly resilient and pain tolerant – she’d already proved that by putting up with me for most of the trip! Having seen the state of her feet I don’t think many blokes would have been able to continue very far, let alone finish the trip.

Whilst we sat on a grassy bank enjoying (enduring?) bread rolls filled with squeezy cheese, a small lunch party was being held for a couple of anglers at the cottage. They had probably paid a huge amount of money for the privilege. It looked a grand affair. We were later to learn that other Challengers passing that same way a little later had been offered beers. Perhaps we looked just a little too unsavoury!

The Memorial at Connachat Cottage

Hairy Coo

Baby Hairy Coo….lost

Louise had been harbouring a secret that she now let out of the bag: we had been invited for (second!) lunch at Laura’s in Crathie – conveniently on our route into Ballater. The promise of real food, at a real table, sat on real chairs was an opportunity not to be missed. So we didn’t! Laura, you may remember, had to withdraw from the Challenge. We were both very keen to catch up with her to hear her tales of woe.

With Nik at Balmoral (Her Maj was out)

We left Nik to enjoy the comforts of Balmoral whilst we carried on to our lunch date. A very enjoyable hour was spent over an excellent soup, lots of tea and good conversation. Thanks Laura – you’re a star!

Our next few miles involved of lots of tarmac, as it was around teatime the road traffic was getting heavy. Entering the outskirts of Ballater we were able to join a very welcome riverside footpath that took us right into the centre.

Louise had booked herself into the Habitat Bunkhouse in Ballater, the place was full of Challengers so she would be in good company. I headed to the campsite, the same site that offered refuge to storm-battered Challengers on Stormy Monday the previous year.

I camped next to two lads from Ireland, they hadn’t managed to get on the Challenge. Because of the logistics involved, they walked their route anyway (and good for them!). They were good company, but to my shame I can’t remember their names. Nik arrived on the campsite too, now we had the makings of a party!

There were other Challengers on the campsite too, notably Doug Bruce (on his 10^th crossing) and Richard Baker – both were clad in kilts.

Louise and I met up later to grab a meal at the hotel / pub and were delighted to find, amongst others, Colin Tock and Roger Hoyle – two very fine chaps indeed. We were soon joined by Martin & Sue and even more Challengers and a jolly evening was enjoyed by all. Both the food and beer at the Alexandra Hotel were very good indeed.

It was late when we all left, some were staying at the Alexandra, others at the Habitat Bunkhouse. Me? I was in my Akto, snug as a bug in a rug. Well I was until…..