In the midst of a complicated discussion with my B&B landlady about access rights to her business my phone pinged. It was Emma. I'd obviously missed her first message of an hour ago and this second had me in a flat panic.
"Are you standing me up?"
It was now ten thirty and I'd been totally engrossed in my conversation with my landlady.
I'd arranged to meet Em at nine thirty at the cafe. Christ, this was not the best start to my day!
Rewinding a little to last night, our evening had gone along really well and I'd decided that I would skip my route to Clova and Tarfside, to instead have some lovely company, which had been sadly lacking so far on this walk, and take it easy to Tarfside via Gelder Shiel and the Shielin of Mark. Of course there was the matter of my room that I'd booked and paid for at Clova but I then bumped into Tim from Manchester who was himself about to set off up to Callater Lodge and then Clova. We agreed that the room was his for free. He gladly accepted to take my place and prepared himself for a session on the rack to stretch himself to six feet with impossibly skinny legs.
So that was that; I could now grovel profusely at my appalling time keeping and bad manners and settle down to a decent lunch in the cafe with Emma. Of course I had dived down to the cafe without packing and so I had to drag the poor girl back to my room so she could watch me shove my life support system into an impossibly small rucksack. Finally we set off for what for me should be three fairly easy days in delightful company.
Experienced Challengers may well have spotted a really, really bad mistake here. But enough of that for the moment, we'll get back to it later.
FOOTBRIDGE OVER THE FALLS OF GARBH ALLT
After the delights of the A93 to Ballater, the Ballochbuie Forest comes as calming respite. In here you're unlikely to be barged off the road by coaches full of pensioners who are generally younger than most Challengers. There are no startling car horns or angry fists waved by motoristas in their warm and comfortable cars, listening to beautiful music as you plod with the world on your shoulders facing death at every bend in the road.
That's not to say that you won't meet any traffic in the forest; In the past I have come across a pair of beautifully polished dark green Range Rovers, purveying the Royal Protection Squad and Liz herself; both vehicles' occupants equally polite and charming. Over the last few weeks I've wondered what the boys in their Airforce Blue or Army Green jumpers have made of Harry's recent spat with his family?
Back in our world for a moment, I noticed that Emma, rather foolishly in my opinion, had her maps stowed and was actually allowing me to navigate our way through this perilous landscape. I took my chance and offered her delights beyond anyone's wildest imaginations. I led her, blindfolded, up a route steeper than was strictly necessary to the historic bridge over the Falls of Garbh Allt. I spun her around three times, removed her blindfold and introduced her to Queen Victoria's favourite skinny dipping pool.
TODAY'S ROUTE: RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE IN A NEW WINDOW
Distance: 16.0 km
Ascent: 320 m
Swearing her to the location's secrecy, she climbed aboard the hallowed footbridge to be photographed for posterity.
EMMA, STOOD UP?
While admiring the beauty of our surroundings a well-heeled family arrived, out for a ramble. Had we met on the high street I doubt if we'd have exchanged more than a polite 'good afternoon' but out here there was freedom to welcome each other as friends and offer to take each other's group photos. The great outdoors, eh?
For the remainder of the afternoon we strolled through the Balmoral Estate to Gelder Shiel, dodging fierce showers and a biting wind. Arriving at our destination there was a very well pitched little green tent sheltering in the lee of the royal bothy, belonging to Paddy - a lovely chap I've known for quite a few years. Emma had walked with Paddy for a few torrid days earlier in her Challenge, that had involved drenching rain and hazardous river crossings. We spent a friendly evening together with the bothy stove glowing warmth and happiness.
DAY ELEVEN, MONDAY: GELDER SHIEL - SHIELIN OF MARK
With Paddy away early on his day to Tarfside, two sluggards finally woke, slowly easing their bodies into the bone cold bothy, the stove having given up its life giving glow in the night. Accusations of snoring were brushed aside, neatly passed on to the departed Challenger who had nothing to say in his defence.
We were finally on our way mid morning, with a fine ramble up to the Shielin of Mark, or possibly beyond if the spirit were to take us, as our planned itinerary. But first, snaps of our overnight halt:
ME, GELDER SHIEL BOTHY
EMMA
Below, as is customary, is the map of our route but this time exhibiting two days of walking, as the map format allows and also as today's walk is but a mere stroll of some nine miles with around nineteen hundred feet (for those of a delicate pre-metrication age) of ascent, to be achieved in two gargantuan struggles. With thirty four successful Challenge crossings under the team's belts we thought this would go.
DAYS ELEVEN & TWELVE. RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE IN NEW WINDOW
Day 11: Distance 14 km Day 12: Distance 19 km
Ascent 570 m Ascent 300 m
I do hope that you did as suggested and right-clicked on the map to blow it up to an impressive size in a fresh window, as there may well be questions at the end of this entry. You surely wouldn't want to stay back after class, would you?
VIDEO PANORAMA FROM GELDER SHIEL, FEATURING A FAIRY QUEEN
A great deal of effort is being made within the Cairngorm National Park - and beyond - to encourage natural regeneration of native tree species. At this location you'll have noticed from the video that fencing has been erected to ward off nibbling predators. I'm not sure how effective it is against deer, as I've seen them clear obstacles like this in one balletic leap. Perhaps a wiser reader could enlighten me in the comments section?
Once the heathery bash to the Rover Road is over, the rest of the morning is plain sailing, albeit in a decidedly uphill fashion, with glorious views of the Lochnagar group.
LOCHNAGAR - MEIKLE PAP TO CAC CARN BEAG. *DO* RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE!
EMMA AND THE LOCHNAGAR GROUP: RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE
ME, TAKING A BREAK ON THE STUMBLY TRACK DOWN TO GLEN MUICK
Leisurely breaks were a thing today, despite the very keen breeze, as the day was rain-free and fabulous views were in abundance with ragged cloud formations scudding across horizons. The often tricksy beast of a river crossing on the way down to Glen Muick was but a gurgling infant.
By a late lunchtime we were ensconced in the bosom of the Glen Muick Visitor Centre, being served hot drinks and snacks by the wonderful Warden, learning of the recent changes in Braemar's cultural life and the internal politics brought about by the sudden influx of comparatively massive wealth. All is not as it seems on the surface; a situation not too dissimilar to that depicted in the film 'Local Hero'.
Happily, we were joined by Lindsay and her son Grant, so we could linger in the warmth and shelter a little longer.
EMMA, COSY AT THE VISITOR CENTRE
I love the stroll up the Allt Darrarie, and the little grunty bit to join the Burn of Mohamed, to bear right following the caochan towards the shooting butts. They point nicely to the Shielin, so keep them in view, taking the grassiest route over the low saddle and you'll arrive bang on the Shielin as if by magic.
Are we going to carry on? Perhaps to the Stables of Lee? What time is it? Five o'clock, so of course not. The Shielin of Mark now has generously sized bunk beds, each with a fairly decent extra wide closed-cell Thermarest for a little touch of luxury. Graham decided to camp outside but Lindsay and Grant claimed comfortable berths as well. Lindsay set-to, arranging the kindling and rubbish to start a small fire in the grate. It was all friendly and snug.
I adore everything about the next picture; the lighting, the characters that seem to epitomise the Challenge - two first-timers and an old hand creating a perfect cradle for friendship. Out of shot are two more Challengers simply glad to be enjoying life again. We're all out in the hills, perhaps miles from anywhere but at the very centre of happiness.
A BEAUTIFUL PARCEL OF ROGUES: GRANT, GRAHAM & LINDSAY (THE FIRE-STARTER), AT HOME AT THE SHIELIN OF MARK
DAY TWELVE, TUESDAY: SHIELIN OF MARK - TARFSIDE
It's best to get the recriminations over with at the start of the day. Which Challengers were snoring all night long? There were two of the bastards but in the crow black, bible black night in the shielin it was impossible to pin the blame. To a man, all present feigned injured innocence.
Before long I realised that I was to be tail-end-Charlie in the packing up stakes. As I was fumbling with my bootlaces the bothy door swung open, accompanied by an icy blast.
"You must be Alan Sloman"
Could it be the canary yellow jacket? Perhaps the pipe-cleaner legs? No, it had to be the balding cranium that's so recognisable. Looking up from my uncomfortable crouch I enquire of the gentleman's name and plead for the door to be shut pretty smartly as I'm a sensitive soul and it's freezing out there. There's unnecessary apologies - I'm being grumpy - and I'm introduced to the genial Chris Vardy, resplendent in neckerchief and woggle. Unfortunately he doesn't stay for long and heads off into the Arctic, probably never to be seen again.
GRANT, ME & LINDSAY AT SHIELIN OF MARK
EMMA, GRANT & LINDSAY
The obligatory team photos are taken, about a dozen times with each of everyone's cameras and smartphones before we can depart for the lurid fleshpots of the Tarfside Metropolitan Conurbation.
Over the years I've found the easiest way over Muckle Cairn is to follow the caochan South Grain to collect the track that runs along the ridge before heading down into Glen Lee and the potentially feisty fording of the Burn of Badrone.
LINDSAY WITH LOCHNAGAR AS A BACKDROP
YOU DON'T GET A VIEW LIKE THIS IN BERKSHIRE. RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE
LINDSAY & EMMA, ATOP MUCKLE CAIRN
EMMA IN A COLOSSAL PLACE: RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE
It was as I hit the track on the ridge that I noticed Emma, who was a little distance behind, on account of receiving all manner of texts and voicemails as her phone sprang into life, was waving and shouting in my general direction.
"TURN ON YOUR PHONE!"
Unengaging 'aeroplane mode' produced a startling number of texts and voicemails. By the time the stream of electronic media had finished, Emma had caught up and advised that I should listen to them, pronto.
To my eternal shame, I had received texts and voice messages from the various good people manning Challenge Control in Montrose. It had transpired that on Monday evening, upon my non-arrival at the Clova Hotel (Tim had decided not to take up the free room) that the hotel had very sensibly called Phil (who had arranged the booking of a twin room for us both) to enquire if we still needed the room. It was now Tuesday morning.
Now Phil, some five hundred miles to the south of us, astride the battlements of Lord Elpus Hall, was concerned.
"It's not like Al to spurn a comfy bed in a warm hotel with white fluffy towels and lashings of hot water? Something might have gone awry!"
Very sensibly Phil phoned Challenge Control to let them know of my non-appearance at Clova. The smooth machine that is Challenge Control and all the highly experienced folk that make up that team, slipped into gear: This fella has various health-limiting conditions. He's getting on a bit. He's not missed a phone-in-point before in all his Challenges. They were concerned. Perhaps a great deal. Of course, text messages and phone calls were never going to make it through to the Shielin of Mark and so I was blissfully unaware of the problems I had caused.
I texted back to Control that I was in fact quite well. It was absolutely freezing on top of Muckle Cairn and so I decided that we ought to press on and sort it out, and grovel profusely for forgiveness when at Tarfside.
Of course, all this could have been so easily avoided had I simply called in to Challenge Control when at Braemar and explained that I was changing my route, and then called the Cloval Hotel to let them know that someone else would be taking my already-paid-for room.
Hindsight's a wonderful thing, but I had caused unnecessary alarm in Montrose, with the team phoning around other Challengers taking similar routes to discover my whereabouts, and Sue (one half of the Event Organisers) having a sleepless night worried about a complete idiot.
You will not believe how appalled I was (and still am) and deeply sorry for this gross oversight.
GRANT HEADING DOWN INTO GLEN LEE: RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE
TO GLEN LEE
GRANT'S PICTURE OF THREE VISUALLY IMPAIRED CHALLENGERS
AT INVERMARK CASTLE
LINDSAY HEADING TO TARFSIDE: RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE
Emma and I made Tarfside in reasonable time, but not in time to bag rooms, so we hoisted the shelters up on the playing field and headed to St Drostan's for coffee and cake.
RESIDENT PHOTOGRAPHER, IAN AT TARFSIDE: DID I PUT FP4 OR HP5 IN THERE?
GRANT
LINDSAY
VICKY
ALVAR, MANNING ST. DROSTANS, TARFSIDE
Alvar was his usual gentlemanly calm self, and quietly let me know that those manning Challenge Control in Montrose had been seriously worried about me and that I should make a bit of effort at contrition when I saw them in Montrose. He's a lovely man; vastly experienced, non-judgemental, kind and caring.
TARFSIDE PLAYING FIELD. RIGHT-CLICK TO ENLARGE
We spent the evening in the Masons with all manner of Challengers that came in all shapes, genders and sizes. Everyone was having a splendid time and the Masons had put on a barbeque with the best tasting burgers south of the North Pole. I had quite a few of those, along with a few beers and coffee as well! I'm getting soft in my dotage.
TARFSIDE, THE MASONS
A SUCCESSFUL 50 MUNROS TRIP FOR CARL & JURAJ
HARDENED PROS RICHARD & PETER WITH A LOVELY NEWBIE, DEAN 😊
TIM
ANDY, ON HIS TENTH, HAVING COMPLETED THE 4000's
GRANT, DOING HIS 'CLINT EASTWOOD IMPERSONATION
DEAN READ - A BIT OF A STAR - CLICK ON THE LINK FOR A CORNUCOPIA OF OUTDOOR ADVENTURES
EMELIE
After a wonderful evening hosted yet again by the magnificent Masonic Lodge, we staggered off to our shelters or St Drostan's, very smiley Challengers to sleep soundly. Apart from the realisation of my dreadful oversight, this had been a perfect Challenge day, in wonderful company.
Having cleared two toast racks ("mixed, please," thus avoiding the awkwardness of choosing white death or sack-cloth and ashes with the granary-wholemeal-brown option) fresh fruit and a hearty fry up with posh sauces, great coffee and fruit juices, I was once again set up for the day.
I hadn't managed to unscramble the cats cradle of the pitchlock end of my tent, but I could always sort that out when I got to Braemar, or perhaps Clova, or Montrose? Note: I've been home some months now and it's a little job that still hasn't been crossed off my 'to-do' list. That's life.
STARTING A DECENT BREAKFAST
At half past eight I found myself (there was no-one else to find me) at the junction of the main road through Blair and the minor road that heads up Glen Tilt, buoyed up by the promise of a lovely day heading up the Tilt and meeting up with Jayme, Peter and Mario, who were at this very moment ploughing into a decent breakfast themselves.
The route I had submitted to our Glorious Girls to pass on to the Vetters had me heading directly north east passing beneath Beinn a' Ghlo, then down to Daldhu then northwards to almost Fealar Lodge and heading to Braemar via Miadan Mor and Carn Dearg and onwards to Glen Ey. This held no terrors as Phil and I had passed this way in years gone by, when we were well over ten years younger and before either of us had been under countless surgeons' knives. However, after only just managing my first week I thought Glen Tilt was a wiser route selection; it was still a longish day of some seventeen or eighteen miles. Happily, Sue agreed with me.
DAY EIGHT, FRIDAY MORNING: RIGHT CLICK TO ENLARGE IN NEW WINDOW
Distance: 28km
Ascent: 800m
The walk up lower Glen Tilt is beautiful in any weather with the main attraction being the river tumbling down its rocky chasm, cloaked in wonderfully fresh foliage. It would be an unusual fellow who could not let this sylvan bliss seep inside his soul. Every step of the way your pack becomes a little lighter, your problems melting away into oblivion as you peek around the next corner to find the scenery shifters' next tableau. This is nature's theatre on steroids.
THE TILT
LOWER GLEN TILT: BEAT 2
LOWER GLEN TILT: WHAT'S ROUND THE CORNER?
LOWER GLEN TILT. MORE BLISSFUL AMBLING
I had my mandatory twenty minute break after six kilometres just before Gilbert Bridge at the side of the track, and tucked in to my planned but uneaten pudding from last night and a glass or two of water before hoisting my pack and sauntering off once again up the now more open glen.
I'd often wondered how Marble Lodge came about its name until I looked closely at the sash window to the left of the doorway where you can see the remnants of marble facings either side of the top sash. Similarly, the sash window head to the right of the doorway. Over the years it either succumbed to the harsh winters or the Estate decided it was too grand for the incumbent? Let's hope it was the harsh winters.
MARBLE LODGE - YOU CAN RENT THIS AS A HOLIDAY HOME
I beetled onwards up the glen, passing a flurry of tree fettling around Forest Lodge following the storms earlier in the year. If you're a half decent tree surgeon or forester you'll be busy for years up here as there's huge amount of fallen timber that needs clearing to make the plantations safe.
I had a good half hour for lunch as I lay against an old wire fence at the edge of the plantation where the footpath zig-zags crazily up the hillside heading for Carn a' Chlamain. I watched a highly skilled JCB driver clear fallen trees with the gentlest of encouragement. These guys earn their money.
DAY EIGHT, FRIDAY AFTERNOON: RIGHT CLICK TO ENLARGE IN NEW WINDOW
Distance: 28km
Ascent: 800m
It was a bit cooler now, with the wind freshening and bringing with it some heavier cloud. I was in no particular hurry so set off at my standard pace. I'd had lunch just shy of halfway to my intended overnight at Bynack Lodge, but once there I had only to pop up the Notch, have a bite to eat and get some rest so there was plenty of time.
LOOKING UP THE TRENCH TO THE LAST PLANTATION
LOOKING BACK DOWN THE GLEN. THE BRIDGE AT NORTHING 763 LEADS TO A GREAT CAMP SPOT
It was just shy of eight clicks of easy walking to Bedford Bridge and so I made that my target for my next stop, where I thought it was probable that Jayme, Peter and Mario would overhaul me. There were a mountain bike couple who stuttered past me as I neared the bridge; I really don't get mountain biking at all. The man was miles ahead of his partner and both looked a sweaty, muddy mess. They were aiming to see the Falls of Tarf and then they were to peddle back again, all the way down to Blair.
BEDFORD BRIDGE, SPANNING TARF WATER
Within a quarter of an hour of my arrival at the bridge and climbing into my shell clothing to cut out the now strong cold wind the three musketeers hove into view along with their very own D'Artagnan in the shape of Paul Edmondson.
L-R: PAUL, MARIO, PETER AND JAYME
We sat and chatted for a good half hour or so. They had also hardly seen a soul on their crossings. I declared quite soundly that I had hated the 25th Challenge because I had hardly seen a soul with the Challenge split into two halves, and this year's Challenge was an even more extreme split of start days. Because the Covid precautions in Scotland were far more extreme than those of England, purely for political reasons and not medical, I understood why the decision was taken - and made a good six months before the Challenge was to take place - to split the Challenge into smaller groups, but this did not stop me loathing the result with a vengeance.
Today I learned that next year's Challenge is also going to be split into two start days - and it appears that we are to be given the start day and not get a choice. I'm going to hate that too, as in effect we're chopping the Challenge in half once again so there will be half as many Challengers you're likely to bump into - and bumping into like minded souls was one of the key foundations upon which Hamish and Roger built the event.
This is an incredibly poor decision.
*****
Paul was the first to move as he was planning to make for the new red bothy currently being refurbished at the Geldie Burn. Within a few moments the international gang of three also got to their feet as stopping wasn't their style. I happily let them go as they were far quicker than my gentle plod and I had boots to tighten and food to stow away.
As I climbed away on the single track up the glen's gorge I looked back to the incoming weather. It didn't look inspiring but it was coming from behind so this was likely to be a pleasure after the frontal onslaught of the first few days of the walk.
FIVE MINUTES PAST FIVE, LOOKING BACK AT THE INCOMING WEATHER
TWENTY FIVE MINUTES PAST FIVE. INCOMING!
The first shower arrived around five thirty, but it was nothing to get worked up about - it was actually quite pleasant. After the initial front passed it was light spotty stuff that didn't require a hood and so all was well with my world.
TEN TO SIX - THE FIRST SHOWERS HAVING PASSED.
FIVE PAST SIX - ABOUT A MILE TO GO
As I turned up the track to the ruin of Bynack Lodge the heavens opened. It was straight down stuff the size of pennies. I had a brief chat with Jayme who braved the downpour for a moment, and then set about flipping up Nathalie Notch, having first cleared the ground of half a hundredweight of Larch branches, general twigginess and rabbit and deer droppings that would make life uncomfortable as a camper.
I lay back in my little tent of happiness quite pleased with how the day had gone and within moments had crashed out until I woke in the very small hours, so climbed into my sleeping bag for another solid slab of slumber.
TONIGHT'S LODGINGS
DAY NINE, SATURDAY: BYNACK LODGE TO BRAEMAR
(or, An easy day to the Fife Arms Hotel bar)
DAY NINE: RIGHT CLICK TO ENLARGE IN A NEW WINDOW
Distance: 20 km
Ascent: 230 m
Now then, sit up straight at the back and take note: Today you'll see quite a few pictures of Challengers. This is my ninth day of fourteen on the TGO Challenge and at long last I'm bumping into other Challengers! I know I've already introduced you to Paul, Mario, Peter and Jayme, but today I'm going to be walking with and seeing many more! After a veritable drought, there's now a flood of wonderful people all battling the elements, all suffering tweaks and pulls, and all sporting smiles and suntans.
UP AND ABOUT AT 6:20AM
I'm up and about at a sensible time and poking around the ruins to see what I had missed last night as I pitched Nathalie in the pelting downpour. It's an atmospheric spot with decent shelter from bad weather and top drawer views from your pitch. Baked bars and orange juice for breakfast and I was ready to pack everything away.
LOOKING DOWN THE BYNACK BURN
6:30 AM. BACK IN THE WARMTH OF MY BAG
I was away by a quarter past eight and made light of the Bynack Burn, which bode well for the Geldie as they're usually in synch with each other in terms of crossability. As I strolled north towards the Geldie Burn I bumped into three early risers from the Backpacking Club who were heading towards me. You do meet good people in the hills and they cheerily let me know that the Geldie was a pussycat this morning.
THE BYNACK BURN AT A QUARTER TO NINE
LOOKING BACK UP THE BYNACK BURN TO BYNACK LODGE
When in spate the Geldie Burn can be a real problem requiring extreme care to cross safely. Today, my Backpacker Club friends were spot on. After a brief inspection I was soon wobbling my way across from boulder to boulder, very aware that on the far bank there were three souls I thought I recognised, who had whipped out their cameras and phones to record my imminent demise, so sure were they of my headlong plunge into the ford.
LOUISE'S PICTURE: NINE O'CLOCK, STARTING TO FORD THE GELDIE
EMMA'S PICTURE, 9:01
Swiped from the good Doctor's photo album: "We met Alan who was coming up Glen Tilt - no one else can rock that acid yellow look." Acid yellow? I had always thought it was saffron. A cheerful colour for the gloomier days?
And lastly, here's Louise's video of my stick-thin legs wobbling over the rocks. (Spike: "His legs hung from his underpants like two pieces of knotted string.")
LOUISE'S VIDEO
The malevolent trio who wished me nothing but misfortune can now be introduced: Barry, who it should be said is in fact a sterling fellow and had not produced a recording device during my wobbles over the Geldie but through association is doomed nonetheless, Louise - a known cad and bounder who recorded still and moving images, and the Doc, who to her credit only took an image or two, preferring to watch the actual submersion through her own eyes.
This was a wonderful meeting, as I do not believe any of us were on our route sheets' fine weather routes. They had been camped at the soon to be new bothy, no more than a couple of hundred yards away, having had the luxury of porcelain to make their overnight experiences complete.
We headed off, Emma teaming up with Barry, as I learned of the dramas Louise had encountered earlier on in her trip. I recommend a read of her blog of the trip - she certainly had an interesting time!
PHOTO C/O EMMA: WHITE BRIDGE, WITH BARRY, LOUISE, AND ME IN A NATTY SAFFRON JACKET
We were of course overhauled by racing snakes Mario, Peter and Jayme - I'm not quite sure what had happened to Paul, but each looked well fed and all sported new gear.
PHOTO C/O EMMA: AT TOMNANMOINE - MARIO, BARRY, ME PETER, LOUISE & JAYME
BARRY
PETER & JAYME'S BEARD COMPETITION
LOVELY MARIO
LOUISE
LOOKING TOWARDS THE LINN OF DEE
TARMAC, THE LINN OF DEE AND A WELCOME NOTICE FROM MAR LODGE: RIGHT-CLICK TO BLOW UP IN A NEW WINDOW
Mar Lodge is a lot further than memory allows and so the stretch of tarmac on the map between the Linn of Dee and the Lodge is another candidate for the scissors. Louise, Barry and the musketeers strode on ahead to scoff the remaining biscuits laid on by Mar Lodge. It was as well that Ben Dolphin, in his new role as a permanent ranger at the lodge, had noticed the ravenous hordes' scandalous behaviour as just as we collapsed into the waiting chairs he topped up the biscuit plate.
THE MAGNIFICENT BEN DOLPHIN AT MAR LODGE
With time on our side we spent almost an hour and a half in our chairs, blissfully happy. This walking lark is all very well, but after all said and done, you only walk to get somewhere and this seemed like an excellent somewhere to cherish.
A MAGNIFICENT PICTURE OF LOUISE (TRUST ME, THERE WERE WORSE!)
BEN'S PICTURE OF BARRY, LOUISE, ME & EMMA
However, the boys rushed off towards Braemar, no doubt via a few Munros and Corbetts such was their zeal for progress.
Eventually, shamed by other Challengers arriving and then departing whilst we luxuriated doing absolutely bugger all - an art in itself, perhaps we should apply to the Arts Council for a grant - we stirred our stumps as Louise fretted over her impending marathon clothes washing session.
REFURBISHED VICTORIA BRIDGE IRONWORK
It was a lovely stroll into Braemar via the Tomintoul view point with its beautiful toposcope and we bumped into 'normal' people out for a walk. This was odd, as it brought back a brush with the real world after over a week in our little half-worlds.
STEELY EMMA WITH IRONWORK
"IT WASN'T ME, MISS!"
EMMA'S PICTURE: LOUISE, BARRY AND ME
BARRY, LOUISE AND A CHAP WITH AN INCREDIBLY LONG RIGHT ARM
ENROUTE TO TOMINTOUL VIEWPOINT
VIEW TO THE CAIRNGORMS FROM TOMINTOUL VIEWPOINT
A GOOD VIEW OBSCURED BY THREE CHALLENGERS
It's a wonderful downhill walk to the village of Braemar, and it took no arm-twisting whatsoever to find ourselves in the bar of the Fife Arms. Because of Covid, it was waitress service so we bagged a large table, much to the alarm of the rather well-heeled guests already working their way through their afternoon or champagne teas. Rucksacks were piled against waiters' furniture and then moved after a polite request from the staff.
As we waited for our order of beers and ciders to arrive I noticed furtive sniffing of armpits at our table. Everything was fine and to their credit the waitresses were charming and efficient. However, Louise fretted, knowing that her clothes washing was a priority. Sadly we left our little pool of luxury and headed off to our various overnight stays.
Some months earlier I had bagged a table at a favourite restaurant and a few weeks ago I'd invited the lovely Emma to share it. After a furious session of showers and suds I made it on time to escort her to dinner in fresh clean clothes and a big smile. Then it was a trip to the pub for a few snifters. Okay, she's not Phil, but she made a good fist of it. The time flew by.
These last two days were wonderful, finally making up for the ghastly start to my Challenge.
