TGOC2020 - virtually the fifth bit.

Beryl the Peril had slipped through a worm-hole and travelled up to Scotland by train. Beryl (aka Margaret) had been on one of Alan’s Daunders and after a few days in the company of Challengers she’d decided that they were (mostly) harmless. 

We met up at Aviemore and then road-yomped seven miles to the Cairngorm Lodge SHYA where both Carl and Lynsey were also staying. A very pleasant evening followed.

Next day we headed east (East is good) to Alan’s completely not spontaneous Cheese & Wine Party which, as always, proved to be good fun, although slightly chilly.

Okay, it was bloody freezing. Nowt new there.

Next day we enjoyed a marvellous walk over the tops in the general direction of Braemar, stopping to spend a very windy night at a sheltered pitch just large enough to squeeze our tents in:

We were up early-ish next morning to continue our glorious walk over some high ground where we spotted an interesting installation - I think it was something to do with a university:

Then, via Braemar, to Callater - to enjoy the unrivalled hospitality of Bill & Co.  

The evening included drinks, dinner, a birthday party, a fashion show, poetry recitations, the occasional odd song (some were VERY odd) – it was an evening in agreeable company. 

In fact it relaxed some guests so much that they fell asleep, mid-conversation. Amazing really.

Next day, the walk over Lochnagar in snow was fun…shame you couldn’t see a right lot:

Our camp spot by Loch Muick that night was a little lumpy but otherwise fine.

Then there was Tarfside. Well….. all I can say in mitigation is that I don’t drink whiskey.

Tarfside is always full of jollity, fun and cheerfulness:
 

More intense relaxation followed….some were so relaxed they couldn’t keep their eyes open. I wonder why…


Which reminds me: Belated Happy Birthday Lynsey!

TGOC2020…virtually the forth bit

Another little hiccup / brain-fart / malfunction that is the #virtualTGOC space-time continuum: I woke up in the very early hours - in my frozen tent. Somehow I'd been transported to Loch Cuaich. How the hell did that happen?

What confused me more (bear in mind that I'm easily confused, even on a good day) was that at around 1am my tent lit up as if it was daylight - scary. It seems that poachers / lampers were oot 'n aboot.

I later learned that Mssrs Lambert & Alan Sloman were camped not too far away and heard / saw the same kerfuffle. Later in the morning, at a far more sensible time o'clock, there was the little matter of ascending the shapely Sgor Dearg and then the steep descent to Gaick Lodge and Loch an t-Seilich. Hard work considering it was first thing in the morning.

A second breakfast followed in a lovely sheltered gully by Allt Bhran (All Bran...?).

Peace and quite was shattered by the arrival of Keith Leonard and Terry Leyland. They didn't hang around.

Approaching Lochan an t-Sluic I spotted a couple of tents by the lochan: it was Angus McKinnon and Norrie. Gus kindly allowed me to snoop around his Akto, a new tent on me - a month later I'd bought my own.

The night was spent in Ruigh-aiteachain Bothy.

The next day's route followed the classic Feshie - Geldie path....where I inveitably fell into bad company once again: Steve Smith, Big n' Daft, Pauline Marshall & Bernie,- plus loads more!

It was a grand day to Whitebridge and a fine camp spot that night.

Tomorrow: Braemar!

TGOC2020…virtually the third bit.

This #virtualTGOC is something. I'd enjoyed a fearsomely fun night at the Melgarve Bothy Secret Ceilidh with Denis, Terry Leyland, Di Gerrard and many others....and somehow found myself pitching up outside Culra Bothy.

What happened there then? I blame strong drink. Well, it was the first time I'd met Denis...no other expanation needed. Pauline Marshall was busy carrying out repairs on the wounded:

The Rockin' Rev was ever so generous with his platy full of something very alcoholic, songs were sung, stories were told...and a fine evening was enjoyed by all.

Dalwhinnie and the hotel was the next stop. It was a bit of a yomp along the shore of Loch Ericht - and it was really quite hot.

Pauline Marshall and Bernie scooted off for a night in a comfy bed, c/o some friends (I wish I had friends like that!), The Rev endured emergency foot repairs, thanks to a certain GP who was passing.

Mr D. Brocklehurst Esq:

I met up with the lovely Brocklehursts once again, it's always a great pleasure to be in their company.

The Dalwhinnie Distillery:

And the hotel didn't sell proper beer. Oh well.

TGOC2020….virtually the second bit

Days 4 and 5 of my virtually virtual Challenge: 

The bunkhouse at the Tomdoun Hotel wasn't the most comfortable, but it was clean(ish) and it had a shower. 

Leaving on a chilly but bright and dry morning, Day 4's route wasn't particularly inspiring, mostly road walking to Invergarry for chips and beer. 

It was here, in the Invergarry Hotel Bar, that I met Bernie, Billy-Whizz and others for the first time. Was Pauline Marshall there? And Trudie Buttrick? Probably.

I let slip that I was aiming to be at Melgarve the next day.... and The Famous Secret Ceilidh. My fate was now sealed, there was no escape. I was kidnapped, taken to Glen Buck Bothy for a night of great fun, then onto Melgarve the next day, guided by Billy-Whizz. 

 Glen Buck Bothy

Kidnapped:

We stopped at Luib Chonnal Bothy for lunch out of the mizzle. In the bothy someone opened a tin of Heinz Beanz with Pork Sausages....I'm surprised that person got out alive! The smell was delicious....now that's something I thought I'd never say! 

The Melgarve bash was amazing. Terry Leyland had arranged for my melodeon to be transported to the bothy, Waggy's concertina too. 

I met so many 'famous' names, including Di Gerrard, Denis, Nev and Anne, Terry Leyland, Trudie Buttrick, Waggy... I'm told I really enjoyed myself - lots of great conversation, singing, music, food....and maybe the odd beer. Or rather more.

Next day, in the aftermath, we headed East (East is good) in the company of Nev & Anne. Nev was another who carried a huge pack – I was beginning to feel slightly less self-concious.