Day 8, to Derry Lodge

 

The Gang of Four had agreed to meet up at 9am to make our way to Derry Lodge via the Fords of Avon, Lairigh an Laoigh and Glen Derry. Text messages had been flying around as plans changed to suit the weather – just a few hours ago we had convinced ourselves that Glen Feshie / Glen Geldie was the only practical way of making our way to Braemar. This low level route would probably have taken an extra day – not what we really wanted.

The very sad news of the morning was that Denis had retired from the trip. Considering his very recent bout of ‘flu this was exactly the right decision. We were all gutted by this news, but Denis was sensibly resolute – he was experienced enough to know when to throw in the towel.

This news came on top of Laura Liddel’s retirement the previous day. Both Laura and Denis are very competent on the hill and we knew their decisions to withdraw from the Challenge hadn’t been taken lightly. Louise & Laura are close friends and the news that Laura had pulled out at Fort Augustus was upsetting for her.

Louise’s David did the honours by delivering the now fragrant and freshly laundered Challenger back to us. She had enjoyed good food, drink, a soak in her bath – and a REAL bed for the night. She also had a slight hangover. But I didn’t tell you that.

75% of the Gang of Four heading towards Glenmore Coffee Shop

Off we went, much laughter ensued and my map of Wales was consulted. Satisfied we were still not in Wales he homed in on the excellent coffee shop in Glenmore. Good coffee and yummy cakes were consumed as we watched wild birds feeding in the, er, birdarium thingy. Red squirrels also frequent the garden but there were none today. They probably knew we were coming.

Peter and Allan struggling to keep up. Not.

Walking in the direction of Ryvoan Bothy and through the last couple of km of the Rothiemurchus Forest, we were treated to a taste of the weather that was to come later that day: wind driven rain and snow showers.

Leaving the forest on a LRT our long climb to the Fords of Avon began. The climb is not severe, but the paths had become flowing rivers. This rang warning bells, crossing by the Fords of Avon could be tricky if the river was in spate. In case we got separated on the climb, we had arranged to meet at the Refuge Hut so we could cross the river together if need-be.

The snow and rain showers were now slowing progress. Before long it was just one long shower. Louise’s leaky boots and poorly feet were causing her problems, but she’s a brave bear and she just got stuck in. Her foolishness fortitude was really, er, fortitudy.

A patient (ahem) Louise waits while Peter has a kit faff.

(Paramo is good. Honest)

Peter and Allan sped off towards the refuge whilst Louise and I, firmly in Slackpacker Mode, trudged through the foaming footpaths to the refuge. We were both tired and hungry when we got there and were disappointed and a little miffed that two teenagers had decided to use the refuge as an overnight stop. We tried to explain, gently, that this was an emergency shelter and not a bothy but our comments went in one ear and out the other.

Our faster companions had recced the river crossing and pronounced it an easy-peasy crossing, and they shot off whilst we stopped for soup and tea.

We crossed the two rivers with ease, Louise’s sooper–dooper waterproof sandals weren’t needed. Yes, you read it here first: WATERPROOF SANDALS! Surely this is the only way to cross rivers whilst maintaining dignity and style.

See, waterproof sandals!

Actually the rivers were easily crossed in boots, although in Louise’s case her feet were so wet that it would have made little difference. Her feet were causing her problems.

Rain and snow continued to hamper our progress and it took a long time and lots of zig-zagging off our river / path in vain attempts to avoid the worst of the torrents. Eventually we got to the more level and slightly drier ground of Glen Derry. The rain and snow had stopped – I became aware of a definite change in the feel of conditions, atmospheric pressure was on the up. I told Louise and she responded by trying to throw a walking pole at me, but she was too tired and missed her target. Although she did say something about a nerd.

Light was fading when I started looking for a suitable pitch, quite a few spots looked good: dry, flat, close to the river etc. I suggested this to my accomplice but by now she was firmly in Stubborn Mode – “We ARE getting to Derry Lodge tonight. Right?” I know when to shut up.

More wonderful pitches came and went, but little Miss Stubborn would have none of it, with my headtorch on she fairly blazed a trail through the glen. I’m sure that if it wasn’t for her soggy feet, she would have set light to the undergrowth – such was her speed.

When tiredness eventually overcame pride ‘we’ decided to look for a pitch. Sods Law states good pitches are simply not available when you need them. We spotted a good pitch but the militant wing of the DofE had got there first. I thought of waking them all up and telling them the river level was due to rise dramatically in the next hour…..but herself wouldn’t let me. Oh well, on to Derry Lodge.

We were on the west side of the Derry Burn, but I knew there was a bridge very close to the lodge that would give us access to the better ground on the east side – closer to the lodge. I recovered my headtorch, and in searchlight mode (it was rather late!), looked for the bridge. I looked up the river, I looked down the river. I even looked at the other river, Luibeg Burn. I could not find the bridge. Perhaps it had washed away. Perhaps, Brigadoon-like, it was simply the wrong day of the century. There was no bridge. It wasn’t there. Okay?

Poor Miss Stubborn’s Louise’s feet were in a bad state, wet and sore. She wasn’t going to complain. Well not too much anyway.

We pitched on the wrong side of the river and after a hurried meal and hot drink we crawled into our sleeping bags for a well-earned kip.