TGO Challenge 2024, the warm-up bit

 

TGOC2024….preceded by the top bit of the WHW

Thursday 2^nd May

I hopped on the train at Manchester to be deposited a few hours later at Glasgow Central where I’d arranged to meet Croydon from, er, Croydon, and my running buddy, Paul from Warrington.

Manchester Piccadilly at ridiculous o'clock in the morning

We had this Cunning Plan y’see, we’d backpack the top half of the West Highland Way from Tyndrum to Fort Bill, then Paul would go home whilst Croydon, aka Mick, and I would travel to Oban to start our respective TGO Challenges.

And so we did.

In Tyndrum we pitched at the very nice By The Way campsite. Croydon and I did this last year too, lovely staff, excellent location, and a couple of pubs in ‘town’….where we had our tea.

Upper Tyndrum

Tyndrum by evening

Friday 3^rd May

At 8am we promptly set off at about 9.30am to head north for tea and buns at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel, although the very expensive Green Welly Stop delayed us. Slightly.

The lady in the shop around the corner (far less expensive the the Green Welly Stop) adjacent to the WHW cheerfully announced that the midges had hatched and they were out. Nice.

Bridge of Orchy....somewhere

L>R: Paul, Croydon, me

I'm smiling. Honest.

There were plenty of West Highland Way walkers out, most appeared to be using B&B accomodation along with baggage carrying service….not like us rufty tufty Challengers. By the time we arrived at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel the outside tables were nearly all taken. We managed to squeeze our slightly overweight bodies, and hugely overweight rucksacks around a small table.

We drank tea.

The climb up Mam Carraigh was a bit of a shock to the system, but the lovely view over Loch Tulla made the blood, sweat, tears, and curses all worthwhile. Then it was a pleasant descent to our planned pitch for the night at Victoria Bridge. Fed and watered, we scooted off to the Inveroran for a swift one before hitting the sack.

Rehydration at the Inveroran

Saturday 4^th May

We were away promptly only a bit late in setting off, heading north and generally uphill. The trail was busy with loads of WHW walkers, all heading to either the Glencoe Resort or the Kingshouse Hotel – we were heading to the latter, camping around the back of the hotel.

Squint, and you'll see Black Corries Lodge. Maybe.

It was a cloudy day, although certainly not cold. Passing Ba Bridge we spotted a number of tents pitched by the river – I need to remember that spot for the future.

After a couple of miles of climbing (which seemed to go on forever) Black Corries Cottage came into view, and a short time later we spotted our destination, Kingshouse.

As expected, the ‘campsite’ was busy, but we eventually found spaces for our tents. A couple of beers in the hotel’s public bar ensured we were adequately rehydrated.

Sunday 5^th May

The day dawned (it’s what days do) slightly gloomily cloudly.

I wasn’t feeling my best, grateful for the public shower and toilet by the hotel’s bunkhouse.

I’d forgotten how much of a climb (not THAT much!) was involved in getting to the foot of the Devil’s Staircase, but it had to be done.

The tug up the staircase was, well, a tug. The tops around were clad in cloud – there wasn’t a view from the top. Whilst the ascent was hard work, the long descent into Kinlochleven was even harder – every time we thought we’d hit the bottom, a false bottom appeared (false bottom = opposite of a false top. Obv.)

We eventually arrived at the campsite and presented ourselves at reception, but we were told that the only way we could book in was by going online! But we’re here, now – we have money….why can’t we just book in? Paul, gifted in diplomacy, eventually negotiated an acceptable solution, and we pitched up.

It’s a strange way to run a campsite.

I was still a bit off-colour, but not sufficiently bad so as not to need a meal….so we trundled off to the Tail Race for pie, chips…and a beer.

A bivvying West Highland Wayer

Monday 6^th May

I was now more monochrome than off-colour, once again grateful for decent campsite facilites. I gave breakfast a miss, telling Paul and Mick to set off without me, I’d follow at my own slow pace.

The pull out of Kinlochleven was hard work, I managed to drink plenty of water – it was a warm morning and I didn’t want to risk dehydration. Once it levelled out, the route was a delightful as ever. The sun shone, the birds sang, all was well….apart from my complaining body. I stopped at the ruin for a rest, and promptly fell asleep.

The deteriorating remnants of the rusting car at Tigh-na-sleubhaich

A Mars bar, a load of water, and a couple of hours later I shouldered my pack and continued, slowly, on my way.

Paul and Mick had found a lovely spot to camp, enough room for 3 three tents, and a water source not too far away. I put my tent up, made myself a cuppa, and promptly flaked out. I woke at 10pm, a mug of cold tea beside me. I glugged it down and promptly went back to sleep.

Tuesday 7^th May

No breakfast for me, although I managed to drink lots of tea, coffee and water, plus a Snickers Bar later in the morning.

A cuckoo was doing what cuckoos do: calling ‘cuckoo’ – it’s a cuckoo thing. We spotted the offending bird, perched on a pole. I grabbed my camera before it flitted off, but the results weren’t impressive.

It was about 9 miles to Fort Bill, generally downhill, but with some rather sharp uphill bits thrown in to keep us on our toes. The track, as with much of the WHW on this trip, was strewn with freshly laid stones. The made walking a tad uncomfortable at times, I was glad I was wearing boots.

I took up my rightful position at the back, and off we went. The walk into Fort Bill was uneventful, it just seemed to go on forever.

Paul had managed to secure a 3 bedded family room in a hotel on the high street, freshly laundered and smelling rather better, we hit the town. Well, we hit Wetherspoons. Their Lime & Soda hit the spot – I wasn’t trusting my innards to a beer.

Wednesday 8^th May

A repeat visit to Wetherspoons, not for anything more exciting than coffee and a light breakfast.

Paul headed for home, it was a shame we couldn’t convince him to join us on the Challenge – next year maybe?

Mick and I hopped on the bus to Oban, our Challenge sign-out point. I was still quite wobbly, so much so that I wasn’t convinced I’d be able to make it as far as the East coast.