TGOC2018, Day 6: Lunch in the sun

In which we frighten the ladies

I slept badly. This wasn’t down to grunting, farting or snoring (well there wasn’t THAT much snoring), it was just another of those nights that my brain had engaged hyper-drive.

I made a cuppa around 4am and stuck my head out of the tent to see what was going on.

Nothing. Nowt. Nada.

It hadn’t got fully dark all night and now, approaching dawn (hello Dawn!), the snowy peaks SW of us were standing out quite dramatically. I photographed the scene but I’m no expert – see yesterday’s post for the photo. I was using my Lumix TZ70 Compact (a fine little camera, but at the end of the day it’s just a compact), plus the camera on my Samsung S5. In spite of these limitations I was quite pleased with the results.

Up and about fairly late, around 7.30am. Mike had reported that our tents were icy earlier – he’d been forced to leave the warmth of his pit for a …..well, you know.

View from my tent at 7.45am

Fab views all around this morning: bright sunshine illuminated the hills all around.

T’other JJ spotted a big bird, he reckoned it might have been an eagle.

Whatever it was, it whizzed over far too quickly for me to even grab my camera, let alone photograph it.

Much poorly–ness in camp this morning. Mike was slightly under the weather and t’other JJ wasn’t feeling too good either.

Up and away around 9.30am, it was cool and fresh but rapidly warming up.

Rannoch Moor

This wasn’t the most exciting day, most of it was mainly either on LRT or very minor road with just a titchy bit of forestry track where we didn’t get very lost at all. It was all easy going though.

Lizard

Curious deer

The major stop of the day was the very excellent Rannoch Station Tea Room, situated rather conveniently at, er, Rannoch Station.

Approaching Rannoch Station

Much tea was supped, toasties guzzled, and wonderful soup slurped. This worked wonders – it gave us all a damned good kick in the pants. Or kilts.

The sun was shining very hotly. Ladies on the adjacent table, possibly quite frightened by the appearance of naked knees (the ladies were frightened, not the table), were struggling to concentrate on their lunches…nowt to do with me, I was well dressed under my kilt. I couldn’t possibly comment on the state of Mike’s undress, you’ll need to ask him.

It must have been the heat.

It was 3pm by the time we left the tea-rooms, we thought we’d best move on before we got moved on. You can only ask for a finite number of tea-pot top-ups with hot water before suspicion is aroused.

We were now on a wiggly tarmac minor road. the B846. The planned destination for the day was the Forestry Commision Campsite at Carie on the south shore of Loch Rannoch.

Unidentified wildlife (Fossilised Giant Haggis?)

In search of a suitable pitch

The campsite was shut* although as it happened it didn’t matter. We didn’t get there that evening, we were just too knackered to walk the last 5km of road. Instead we found a slightly lumpy patch of ground on the loch shore at NN569566 and we pitched there.

* Although the site at Carie was shut (closed-down by the look of things), another Forestry Commision Campsite had opened a little further down the road, towards Kinloch Rannoch.

I enjoyed a brill tea of home-made and home-dehydrated pasta bolognese + a dollop of olive oil followed by a couple of Eccles cakes for pudding. Eccles cakes really are quite excellent – especially when they’ve been crushed inside your pack. For a true Cordon-Bleu experience they should be submerged under a topping of instant custard….but not tonight. Only because I wasn’t carrying any.

Chorley Cakes, BTW, simply won’t do. They’re a completely different animal. Obv.

By 9.15pm (as I was writing my diary up) it had got very cold so I was snuggled in my sleeping bag, supping a mug of camomile tea.

Sunset over Loch Rannoch

I left my tent door open until quite late, watching the light fade over the loch. It was all quite romantic really.

Cuckoo count: 7 (much better)

Other wild animals: Two red squirrels, numerous lizards, various deer, and a suspected eagle - there were other birds too but I didn’t count them.

No wild Challengers though.

TGO Challenge 2018, Going over the top. Day 5

In which I lighten my load…

Up at 7am to start packing, I had breakfast in thew hotel - £10 for a full English Welsh Irish Scottish, good value for what I had: all the usual stuff you get with a hotel breakfast, but rather having a fry-up I opted for smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. It was probably the best hotel breakfast I’ve ever had. I’ll be using the MacDonald Hotel campsite again – it’s better than other commercial sites I’ve used in the town.

I joined John Jacklin for breakfast, he’d planned a similar route to mine – whatever that was!

The view up the loch from the campsite was quite stunning – the morning light was just right.

Up and away via the Post Office (to send some stuff home) and the Co-op to buy choccy and bread.

JJ, Mike and I left town at 10am for the long slog up to Devil’s Staircase.

Lots of kilt comments (mostly complimentary) and loads of requests for photographs….we should start charging! The vast majority of the walkers we saw were on the WHW, some hoping to get to Fort Bill that day whilst others seemed content to stop in Kinlochleven.

Miffed that the cafe at the top was shut

It got a gloomy as we climbed, then it got gloomier still as we climbed some more – then waterproofs were needed as the wind drove rain in. It got quite cold too. This was the second and final time that I walked in rain on TGOC2018 – quite a record.

As late as 4pm some WHW walkers were still heading north, it would be quite late before they got to KL.

The rebuilding of Kingshouse

Once past Kingshouse the kilt comments virtually dried up. We were now off the WHW and we didn’t come across any other walkers for what remained of the day.

The rain had now stopped but the cold wind remained, at least it dried the outer shell of my Velez quite nicely.

Black Corries Lodge

I’d intended to camp before Black Corries but it felt right to continue on beyond the lodge. And so we did.

A mile or so later, at NN322552, we came across a nice flat spot with an abundant supply of water – just what we needed. It was adjacent to a LRT but we really weren’t mithered about that.

Tents up and brew on – just in time for the Archers on BBC R4 LW.

I had an excellent meal of home made and home-dehydrated beef & ale plus Idaho mashed potatoes – these are now my favourite packet mashed potatoes, they’re delicious.

Pudding was a good sized (= big!) piece of chocolate, an Eccles Cake and a mug of tea. I was replete.

After a top-to-toe wash down in my tent I slid into my sleeping bag and wrte up the day’s diary….ie what you’re reading here.

Looking over the lochan in the fading light was really quite relaxing. The snow-covered tops added to the beauty of the scene. The sky was clearing so I expected a cold night ahead. Because I’d loaned Eden some of my lighter-weight stuff I was carrying my winter sleeping bag – cold was not on my list of worries that night.

Eden was doing his DofE Bronze expedition at the same time as my TGOC, I didn’t want the poor lad to be weighed down with a pile of heavy kit.

Whinge warning:

On the subject of DofE, which I’ve commented on previously (causing some knee-jerk reactions by those who couldn’t be arsed to read my words thoroughly – or just want to argue / disagree with my P.o.V.):

There are some absolutely brilliant and very experienced DofE expedition ‘intructors’ out there (you know who you are) but there are also some who clearly don’t have much idea at all. They probably don’t know who they are.

Expedition instructors can’t be held fully responsible for their teachings, the recommended expedition kit list can be viewed here – I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions….but we’ve all taken pity on overloaded DofE teenagers. I’m surprised that so many return to the outdoors.

Some fellow Backpackers Club members, including me, have offered some local DofE groups help and advice but as far as I know, and certainly in my experience, our offers haven’t been taken up.

End of whinge.

I slept badly, not because of the cold, I was actually VERY warm, it was just a load of crap going through my head that wouldn’t allow me to wind down. A mug of camomile tea, a listen to the BBC World Service and a bit of time spent taking photos helped take my mind of the rubbishy stuff and eventually my mind found neutral and I drifted off.

The view from my tent at 4.10am

Cuckoo count: 3 (poor)

Other wildlife encountered: Not much at all really, a just few birds lurking around the lochan. Not even any Challengers.

TGO Challenge 2018, the story so far…

In which my knees terrify some WHW walkers…

Up at 6.30am, away before 8am…after washing some of my smellier smellies. The sun, even at this time, shone hotly – my soggy laundry would dry fairly quickly in this heat.

Towards Lundavra

Water tap by Lundavra – no water though

The day’s route was very straight-forward and *mostly* easy underfoot: north by Lundavra, then following the West Highland Way, south and east, to Kinlochleven.

Lots of walkers encountered – all going the other way (to Fort Bill, the end of the WHW). Many took delight in telling me I was going the wrong way (this is not news to me, I usually go the wrong way), others wanted to know whether I was doing the WHW in the ‘other’ direction – North to South.

I think the WHW must be marketed quite heavily overseas, a very substantial proportion of walkers were from overseas: many Americans, a large Japanes party and and goodly number of Dutch and Germans. The Way must provide an important source of revenue for businesses on the route.

Walking in a kilt

American ladies swooned. Japanese photographers clicked away, English walkers blushed, German walkers politely averted their gaze….

I had to pose for so many photographs that day that it added a good hour to my walk – great fun though!

My Sports Kilt was generating a lot of interest. In all seriousness, this is the best of walking kit I’ve bought in a long while. It’s extremely comfortable, lightweight and very practical. At 330gms it’s not exactly heavy and because it’s made from microfibre it dries very quickly.

It helped that the weather was so good of course, but even in moderate rain it did it’s stuff well.

The risk of ticks was uppermost in my mind when I was walking through undergrowth. I’d treated my kilt (and my undies) with Permethrin before setting out and this gave me some peace of mind. There was only one day where I didn’t wear the kilt all day, that was my Day 3 through Glen Gour where it just *looked* like good tick-breeding ground. As it happened I didn’t encounter one tick on my entire crossing.

Sports Kilt is an American company, I ordered mine (and Mike’s) whilst I was in USA earlier in the year – perhaps a Scottish manufacturer could take up the reigns and produce them over here.

Back to the walk…

I’ve walked the WHW a couple of times, always South to North, going the other way transorms it into a completely different walk – no better or worse, just different.

The route was mostly but not always easy underfoot, some of the path was covered in loose rocks and stones which slowed my progress from time-to-time. The absolute worst bit was the final steep-ish descent to Kinlochleven – I nearly ended up on my bum a couple of times.

I’d booked into the campsite at the back of the MacDonald Hotel, it was very quiet when I arrived, but within a couple of hours it was rammed. It’s a reasonable commercial site, £10 a night and good facilities – the ground was stony under a couple of inches of grassy soil though.

The Kilted Pieman was refused permission to camp, apparently the site was full – although he could have squeezed on quite easily.

The hotel served decent food and very excellent beer (Cairngorm Trade Winds). I’d hardly eaten all day so I ordered a decent lunch but I struggled to finish it.

I’d sent a food parcel to the hotel, it *should* have contained maps for the next section of my walk….but it didn’t. What the hell happened there then? I had my route description with me of course, I also had my Garmin Etrex20 so I had a fall back, it wasn’t ideal though. (I since found the maps….at home, in a box. A different box.)

A couple of other Challengers appeared, notably John Jacklin and Scott – good blokes, the pair of them.

Mike ended up camping at the Blackwater campsite, we met up for nosh and beer at the Tail Race, decent food but no proper beer – just fizz.

Mike’s route wasn’t too dissimilar to mine so we decided to team up for a few days (he had his maps!), certainly until my next food parcel which would hopefully contain some maps.

In bed by 11pm, nicely relaxed and ready for a good night’s kip. It wasn’t to be though, noise from adjacent tents and the camping pods kept me awake until the early hours…then it was coming light at 4.30am. Ho hum. 

Cuckoo count 4

Other wildlife encountered: Norralot, not even any Challengers on the route.

Photos from my entire TGOC2018 are here

TGO Challenge 2018, Day 3

In which I fend-off killer-ticks. Probably.

I was awake quite early but chose to stay put in the hope that the light rain might stop and the sun make an appearance long enough to dry my tent out before packing.

The noise of Challengers passing our peaceful pitch promised a fairly quiet day ahead – just what I wanted.

Su was away by 8.30am, I followed around 9am. It was still raining lightly but ! didn’t want to delay my departure by too long.

This was the only day I didn’t wear my Sports Kilt, my route to Ardgour was very wet underfoot and the undergrowth looked like Tick Heaven – long (Permethrin treated) trousers were the order of the day.

The watershed

Navigation was straightforward, follow the river to the watershed the follow the River Gour down to Sallachan. 

The spot I’d earmarked for elevenses was too waterlogged so my next meal was onses – lunch at 1pm, next to a lovely waterfall, surrounded by spectacular scenery. The sun was shining brightly, it was quite hot – so my Akto was treated to a bit of an airing.

Lunchtime: brew with a view. There were fish in the river.

Lynsey rolled up, looking freshly laundered and well-pressed (how does she do it?). She’d intended going up Ben Resipol but a tumble that bruised her shoulder changed her mind for her. She continued to Ardgour, leaving me to soak up the rays and read the rest of the previous Thursday’s ‘I’ newspaper. It would have been the Guardian but it was too heavy to carry.

Signs of volcanic activity?

The ground was difficult, with man-eating swamps and ticks the size of bluebottles. I may have exaggerated slightly there. But they were probably quite enormous. Although I didn’t ACTUALLY see one. A friend probably did though.

I was aiming to pick up the LRT marked on the map – hoping for better ground. The ground was just as bad, slow going with lots of deeply flooded sections and loose stones & rocks. Time was passing slowly.

Lighthouse at Corran

Eventually made Argour. I had a phone signal so I phoned Control and had a good chat with Pauline. and Bernie. It seems news of my Sports Kilt had reached the megaphone of CBS (Challenge Broadcasting System).

Scott, Lynsey & John J (not me, the other one)

I stopped to chat to Lynsey, John Jacklin and Scott who were sat outside their digs, the Ardgour Inn, drinking dirty beer and waiting for their tea to arrive.

The Corran Ferry, across the road from the pub

The Corran Ferry (free for foot passengers) was in the slip so I boarded and was soon on t’other side.

Over the sea from Corran

I met up with a (slightly) elderly couple from South Africa, they were farmers there and wanted to sell-up but various restrictions meant they couldn’t and so they were stuffed. They were very keen to hear all about the Challenge. I gave them chapter and verse in the hope of tea and cake….but to no avail.

Must try harder….

I don’t know, I really don’t know

I trundled on, avoiding the pub, aiming towards Lundavra. A lovely flat spot (NN053630) next to a river presented itself at around 8pm so that became my home for the night.

I neglected to photograph my tent in situ that evening, but this is what the area looked like after I’d packed up the following morning. Nice eh?

I had a good wash down before bed and slept very well indeed.

Cuckoo count: 5

Other wildlife I clapped my eyes on: Newts, frogs, fish (trout?), deer and loads of different birdies. Oh, and 4 Challengers. But they were really quite tame.

Photos from my entire TGOC2018 are here

  

TGO Challenge 2018, the next bit

In which I make a classic nav error and I eat cake and drink tea

Before I start wittering on about this next bit of my trip I should add another reason for my choice of route this year: the last couple of years I’ve seen my fitness levels drop quite dramatically. This is not A Good Thing for those who like doing the sort of things that I like doing. This is all down to me: My regular long walks had become highly infrequent, my once very frequent runs had become very infrequent….other stuff too, but I’m sure you know what I mean. My Kilchoan start, whilst making my total Challenge distance longer, offered a lower-level route….even lower than usual, but achievable. And so it was.

Anyroadup:

Saturday, Day 2, and I was up and about at 7am in bright sunshine. The Akto was wet through with condensation both inside and out. It had dried out quite a lot by the time I left my holy stealth camp site. I was surprised how deserted Acharacle was, nobody about at all – not even a dog walker. Or a dog. Even.

10.30am and a lovely sky

At Shiel Bridge (no, not that one) I came across the lovely John & Sue Tattershall. Despite their fine Lancastrian surname, they hailed from Salisbury, dahn sarf. They were also Kilchoan starters and were celebrating their wedding anniversay….John clearly knows how to treat his wife on such an occassion. I was impressed with his romanticism.

It’s odd, but they’d completed 6 Challenges and I was on my 12th – yet I’d never met them before – such is the large area covered by the Challenge.

Whatever, the Tattersalls of Salisbury were also on the boat from Dalelia to close to Polloch – so thoughfully arranged by Phil L….thanks Phil! We marched on together, heading initially for the ‘PH’ at Mingarrypark where we’d set our minds (and stomachs) on bacon butties, tea and coffee. The advertising hoarding promised lunches – just the job! Well it would have been….but they only seemed to served lunches in the evening, ie: Dinner.

Hungrily and slightly miffed, we strove on eastwards towards our boat ride.

We were there in very good time, so early that I phoned Trio Lambert and asked if it was acceptable for we three to cross early…..norraproblem. We three were whizzed across the water to Ceanna Garbh in a very short time. The boat ride was quite exhilarating, the water crystal clear – all really very beautiful.

John T,

At the jetty on t’other side we three installed ourselves on a bench seat and and ate, drank…and even dried our tents in the very unusual Challenge hot sunshine.

My plan for a quiet and peaceful Challenge was working very acceptably well, J&S were very agreeable company.

Trio Lambert at lunch

They scooted off whilst I started to slowly pack up. The buzz of an outboard motor announced the imminent arrival of Trio Lambert. I hurriedly stuffed my gear into my pack and scooted off. In my haste to escape, and after a good 10 minutes, I realised that the sun was shining from the wrong direction….I’d gone the wrong way! Ho hum.

Anyway, this nav error was, er, rather ‘convenient’ (if you know what I mean) and by the time I’d got back to the jetty all was quiet and deserted.

I trundled on, this time in the right direction. Arriving in Polloch I was met by a local gent doing his garden. He’d seen others pass his house, carrying packs and wondered what was going on. In exchange for lashings of tea and a VERY large piece of lemon drizzle cake (my favourite!) I was able to explain a little about the Challenge.

Whilst enjoying this rather lovely hospitality a knock came at the door: it was a woman who’d been born in the village. She was hunting out relatives who still might live in the area. Polloch is small so she didn’t have too many doors to try!

Bidding my host farewell I headed East (East is good etc etc) to search for my intended camp spot.

It wasn’t long before I heard Trio Lambert, they must have been dawdling. !0 mins or so later I caught them up as they’d stopped for a breather – after exchanging pleasantries I continued eastwards in a very uphill manner towards my planned stop for the night, next to an un-named lochan just west of Druim Glas. The choice was a bad one – nowhere really suitable to pitch the Akto so I carried on. And on.

After a bit of heather bashing (sorry Heather) I picked up a path and eventually caught up with Shap McDonnel and Su. Su was also looking for a spot for her Akto, Shap wanted to continue further and that’s just what he did.

Su & Shap

A nice flat area presented itself, plenty large enough for two Aktos, and with a stream close-by we decided to pitch together around NM862658.

Home for the night

It was still warm so I decided to have my usual strip-wash – but outside the tent rather than in the tent. I did warn Su, honest I did.

Poor Su. I fear the shock of my ablutions were too much for the poor girl. I did warn her – and I DID keep out of sight. Honest. I reckon she may have been peaking. Tsk.

A pleasant (and very clean) evening followed. I snored…and all was coming right in my little world.

Sorry Su.

Cuckoo count: 6

All my TGOC2018 photos can be viewed here

         

Blog silence…and De-stressing, April 2018

A particularly stressful 7-8 months (just one cause of the recent silence here) demanded some very serious space and time to straighten my head and to come up with A Plan. …so that’s exactly what I did.

Firstly a trip with TH to Glaramara in Borrowdale, where there was much running up and down hilly stuff in the finest of company, eating far more than is good for a chap, then possibly over-rehydrating by way of lots of nice beer followed by more than one brain-straightening session with good mates, all helped set me on the road to recovery.

Next came a trip, perhaps a more spiritual trip than I expected, along a section of El Camino Via de La Plata in Northern Spain (should 'Northern' be written with a capital 'N'?). I was joined on this trip by Rob, who apart from being a chap made of The Right Stuff, proved to be an ideal walking companion: not once did he complain about my smelly feet, my whinging, or anything really.  Rob's one of The Good Guys. And he takes wonderful photographs.

Then there's a short backpacking trip to That Yorkshire... well,  the Yorkshire Dales atcherly. This hasn't happened yet, but it's going to happen, next week. I know this because I've now booked my train tickets to Clapham. No, not that one, the real one... in That Yorkshire. This has been arranged by Lucky the Dog and his kilted Dad, The Pieman. Also in attendance will be Dawn, Chrissie Dixie... and maybe a doggy or two.  There may be more attending, I don't know, I'm just very grateful to have been invited along.

Firstly, Glaramara…

I was most fortunate to be able to squeeze myself onto this little trip although I wasn't able to spend as much time there as I'd have liked.

Arriving on Friday evening I was greeted by the rain and the general greyness that only Cumbria can provide. The gloom was soon lifted: I was sharing a room with Rob (no that one, the one that runs up and down hills at lightning speed), and the bar in Glaramara served Coniston Bluebird and the seriously excellent Loweswater Gold (a new one on me). The usual suspects were already in residence, having arrived either early that morning or even the previous day. My late arrival only raised a few eyebrows,  but there you go.

A very convivial evening followed, excellent food, good conversation, and maybe a beer or two more than was wise.

Dinner at Glaramara

Next morning,  after a huge breakfast, I set off in the company of Ding Dong,  to follow the sawdust trail set by Doggy Burston. The trail was reputedly 10.5 miles, up Langstrath to Angle Tarn, over the tops of Allen Crags and Glaramara, then eventually back to our digs.

We came upon Big Ian who had, perhaps wisely, opted out of running and decided to walk the route.  Ian has long and powerful legs, he was round the route in quick time.

Approaching Angle Tarn we spotted Wells the Elder coming up behind us. He didn't fall into the beck once, unlike someone else who shall remain nameless (Ding Dong,  seeing as you asked). Paul stopped for a quick chat before powering off over Allen Crags and the glories of Glaramara's 783m top.

An un-named runner not quite falling into the beck

The next lot to catch us were the Fast Pack of McHarry, West-Samuel, Whitehead and Biker. A minute or so later Old Ruddock appeared and declared that he'd had enough of this nonsense and decided to join us on the descent by Grains Gill.... but we didn't see him again.

A fast(-ish) moving Wells the Elder

Next up was Potter, sporting his usual grin - he also trotted off in the direction of Glaramara.

Potter (unusually) in recovery mode

Posing by Angle Tarn

Jenkinson, Murray & Co were next on the scene - Murray sporting the latest hair style that has become so popular among high-speed fell runners. I don't know how he keeps it out of his eyes.... maybe he just runs so fast the problem doesn't arise.

Jenkinson leading the way

The arrival of McHarry & Co

The departure of McHarry & Co

Fast Taylor was next, running alone.  He tells me he's the strong and silent type.....well he's strong anyway.

Fast Taylor en-route to Allen Crags

David and I,  along with some others, had realised that the trail might be a tad longer than the stated mileage. We took the executive decision to bale out at Allen Crags and trot down Grains Gill to return to Chateaux Glaramara via Seatoller. This proved a good move, even with our short cut the route was still 12 miles, quite long enough.

The day was warm but there were still signs that the area had been very recently splattered with lots of the white stuff:

On our return to base we discovered that Burston had taken a tumble whilst laying trail. This necessitated a trip to Keswick's Minor Injuries clinic where he was treated by Nurse Whiplash.... and a satisfying outcome involving 4 stitches. Both nurse and patient appeared to have enjoyed the pain.

Post-op Burston

More good food, a damned quiz (I escaped to the bar, along with other quiz cowards), then lots of good conversation, laughs and a few tears for those recently lost, and maybe a little more of the Loweswater Gold, all conspired to keep us going until well past midnight.

Next morning, at 7.30am, and after overnight rain, those daft enough to feel competitive took part in The Fell Race. The trophy,  the Side Pike Bottle, has quite a history to it. Presented to The Club in 1930-something by the Bass Brewery, it has become the subject of some derision. It's hardly a thing of beauty, but everyone wants to win it.  Apart from me.

The Side Pike Bottle….and minder

The race is handicapped, I strongly suspect that the winner is chosen in advance and the appropriate handicaps are then dished out.

This year's worthy winner was Fast Taylor who's living room is now adorned with the winner's trophy.  His wife will be very pleased.  So he tells me.

Fast Taylor, first in on The Fell Race

Murray, sporting That Hairstyle

Fast Taylor in Pose Mode

After breakfast I left the guys to continue their Cumbrian Adventure whilst I scooted southwards and home. I'd managed a much needed quiet and stress-free break, but there was packing to be done for the next adventure.