TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 14: Roger, Over & Out

 

MAPS & PICTURES ARE CLICKABLE

You can see from the map that today is a gentle doddle down to St Cyrus. I walked it as I had started this year’s Challenge, with Andy, and so Dave, Andy and I made short work of it. Loads of Challengers were already on their way up the cliffs at the coast as we were making our way down but there was plenty of time.

 

Here are some pictures of the finish:

So, photos taken down on the beach, we took our time climbing  back up the cliff path, having another of Andy’s miraculously appearing beers and finishing off a hefty fruit cake on the ‘halfway up’ bench. It was good to sit there in the peace and quiet with just the sound of gulls and rushing winds, taking it all in.

This year’s walk had indeed been quite a tough one, mainly because of the weather. The weather was only really rotten for one day, the second Monday but it had been tough because there were so many days with continual soakings and heavy winds; each day not in itself arduous but cumulatively they add up to a bit of a struggle.

The winds had been high and some river crossings particularly memorable. The buffeting had taken it’s toll of some very experienced Challengers; there’s not a lot you can do if you have damaged your leg or back after taking a tumble because of the high winds. However, I am sure they will all be back again next year, if pulled from John’s hat, to have another crack at it.

This was a year for the triumph of first-timers: Those who made it across in these conditions really deserve great praise as I am sure there must have been times when it was all getting a bit too much. It takes grit and a bit of character to get through those days.

Andy & I shook hands, hoisted our packs again and made our way to the bus stop to join a dozen or so wind-blasted smiley Challengers on their way to Montrose for the big party.

Dave left us at the Park Hotel, to start his drive home, at last sitting in comfort, rather than staggering about on his blisters. I think we broke him. But he’s a regular guy and made of the right stuff. Shall we see him applying next year for the proper job? If he can get through two nights ferocious drinking at Braemar & Stan & Bill’s and then toddle all the way on blisters, I reckon he should be ‘up for it.’ We shall see!

I toddled off to Montrose campsite (quite a nice place really, even though it is overlooked by a monstrous great grey factory) to be treated to cups of tea and biscuits from Ron Reynolds and a bit of a lie-down. Ali Ashton popped her head into Wanda and noticed my horribly swollen ankles with nasty purple bruises:

One of the bi-products of seeing the hospital consultant a few days before the trip (apart from being given a list of foods that would surely do me in) was a change in medication, which had caused severe swelling of my ankles. Doc Ali noticed this and told me to go back and ask for “Lozozoz” (or something like that) instead, which wouldn’t make my ankles look like those of an elephant. (And Indeed I did, Ali, and they recognised the name from that phonetic approximation and have subsequently switched me to that wonder drug and now my ankles are slowly returning to their original gurly slimness.)

So it was back on with the shoes after a shower and shave, and off to the party at the Park Hotel.

This was the last time that Roger Smith was to co-ordinate this wonderful event. Roger was the very first editor of TGO Magazine – or “The Great Outdoors” as it was then known. Thirty three years ago he was approached by Hamish Brown – an inspirational figure in the outdoor world – with an idea for a self-supported backpacking event across Scotland. Hamish had all the details worked out and Roger ran with it. He has been the coordinator of this magnificent event for twenty of those years.

There were speeches from Hamish, Cameron McNeish, (the recently retired editor), John Manning (who is taking over as co-ordinator), Emily Rodway (the new editor) and John Donohoe, on behalf of the loyal band of Vetters.

A bunch of ordinary Challengers had got behind a great idea from Humphrey Weightman: At every start point on the west coast, Challengers were invited to sign an A4 piece of blank card and donate a little cash to go towards a ‘thank you’ to Roger Smith. These dozen bits of card were then carried, some a bit battered and occasionally getting a soaking, all the way across Scotland to be bound together by Humph at the Park Hotel at Montrose: Surely an appropriate way for the Challengers to thank a wonderful man.

The card was presented to Roger by Ron Reynolds (the senior finisher this year with 23 crossings under his belt), Louise Evans, (a first-timer whose birthday it was today) and Humphrey himself, who had just completed his tenth Challenge. Roger was also given a gift – a glass artwork etched with the simple message:

“To Roger, with all our love from your Challenge family. May 2011”

Humphrey & I would like to thank all the collectors from each start point, who made sure this all happened. We managed to collect a tidy sum that covered the cost of the presents to Roger (& Patricia, his wife) with a little left over.

Roger Smith: The True Challenge Legend.

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 13: THE BLUE DOOR WALK

WEDNESDAY 25th MAY 2011

MAPS & PICTURES ARE CLICKABLE

I haven’t posted the map for the whole day because you would be bored by it and so would I as I have walked it so many times I know every bend in the road by now… Unfortunately Dave didn’t and so he marched ahead to ‘walk through his blisters’ and tromped off down the road all the way to Edzell, leaving Andy & me for dust.

However, I do want you to pay attention to the map I have posted – So – Stand in a Polite Line and sit up straight at the back, all you Challengers out there! Do you hear me? Okay?  Good.

Now this route has been explained to you before, very patiently and politely by Lord Elpus. You can find the lesson, HERE. You all should have taken notes last time around but it seems that you must have been asleep! I will cut and paste Phil’s excellent words below:

“It’s almost the end of the TGO Challenge, and after swapping tales and enjoying the convivial atmosphere at Tarfside, you face the steady plod to Edzell (and the joys of the Tuck Inn) and then maybe take the path alongside the post office to find the ‘Shakkin’ Brig’ and eventually the long road to North Water Bridge Campsite. So far, so familiar, and if you’ve done this a couple of times before ... so boring!
 

Here’s a detour from the familiar trade route, offering stunning riverside scenery, woods and wildlife – and no cow dung! Plus its all quite hidden away from the trudging column of footsore (and probably headsore) Tarfside wayfarers.

And it begins for us at the ‘Rocks of  Solitude’.

It was the name that attracted me – Rocks of Solitude. So a few years ago I diverted from the usual Challenge route on the track west of the river and crossed the bridge at NO574753 and hopped up onto the road. About 3k down the road there is a sign to the ‘Rocks of Solitude’ and, as you descend to the river, an information board which gives no real hint of the delights to follow.

The beautifully constructed path, hacked out of the rock by Napoleonic prisoners of war, generally keeps above the river gorge; there are smaller paths down to fishing beats, but the main path is pretty obvious. The woods above teem with wildlife and birdsong, the North Esk crashes wildly through the rocks below. This is a salmon river, and its value to Victorian and Edwardian sportsmen is marked by the salmon sculpture on the rather beautiful ruined bridge.

It’s just over 2.6k before the path leads you to a blue door set in a wall. It’s a little low door – rather hobbit like. You pop out through the blue door and suddenly you find yourself back in the real world – on the B966 at Gannochy Bridge with cars whizzing past.

But although the main highlights are over, the walk continues in a pleasant enough fashion. Cross the bridge and take the path on the opposite bank which leads all the way to Edzell and the Shakkin’ Brig, threading through beech woods with fields to the right and the river surging along its rocky bed below on the left. Walk past the wobbly suspension bridge and bear right to emerge in Edzell high street next to the post office. Then turn right to amble down to a well earned bite and cuppa (or even an ice cream) at the Tuck Inn.

This delightful little diversion adds about 1k at most to the ‘conventional’ route. I enjoyed it – hope you do too!”

Just to make it really clear, the red squares on the map show the entry points to the riverside walk to Edzell. It is a delightful walk. You avoid all the dung-dodging, bull-fighting and mud wrestling of the other side of the river and have the wonderful rushing North Esk as your companion.

So – it would be nice to hear of a few more trying this charming little routelet next year. Okay? Okay.

We finally caught Dave up at Edzell – he had been there quite some time in the Tuck Inn and then we plodded down the Airfield road to North Water Bridge to flip up the tents and enjoy the birthday cake and beer. I don’t think Dave’s feet were any better…

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 12

TUESDAY 24th MAY 2011

ALL MAPS & PICTURES ARE CLICKABLE (WE TOOK THE MOST DIRECT ROUTE)

We woke up; alive! I always believe that waking up is a bit of a miracle just in itself but after last night we were even more fortunate. We had agreed that today we would have to get a wiggle on in the morning as we had twenty miles to do and the weather was still set to be quite windy.

There was no faffing this morning and Hein, Andy, Dave & I were away 7:30 ish as we had about 20 miles to do with three and a half ‘ups’; the first up and over to the Spittal of Glenmuick, the second over to Shielin of Mark, the third over Muckle Cairn and the half over the hill path to Tarfside.

This morning the burns were back down to ‘rushing about like mad things’ rather than yesterday’s ‘roaring & screaming beasts’ and they were looking their best for us. The sun was actually trying to break through and so cameras were dragged out of the depths of their waterproof bags and the silvered plates were once more exposed to the watery sunlight. I couldn’t think of a better foreground at the time and so I am afraid that you will have to accept Dave as “foreground interest”.

DAVE & LOCHNAGAR

RED; GOOD FOR FOREGROUNDS TOO! (WHAT IS ANDY DOING TO DAVE?)

It was still very windy indeed and so we didn’t hang about and were soon up and over the first hill and safely at the Spittal where everyone investigated the temporary plumbing arrangements. Then, no rest for the wicked, we were up and off to head for the Shielin. There is a little footbridge half way up the Allt Darrarie with no handrail. You had to pick a lull in the gusts to cross or it would have been an early bath.

The Shielin is a little cracker of a bothy. It has a lovely little multi-fuel stove and is tucked just below a bank to be out of the worst of the weather. It’s south facing and so catches the sun all day. We had covered eight miles and so made a little soup and hot drinks to go with my usual repast of foods that would surely see me to the other side.

It was at this point that Dave mentioned that he might have a couple of blisters so we just ignored him and let him tape them up. He seemed happy enough…

Then we set off again for the glorious walk over Muckle Cairn. Here’s a picture looking back at Andy and Dave (just coming into shot) with Lochnagar in the background. If you look carefully you can also see the Shielin of Mark.

It’s a grand stroll over to Glen Lee which passed peacefully enough. We called in at the Stables of Lee to find a few Challengers having a brew but nipped on, as bacon butties and cold beers were calling to us from Tarfside. And besides, we wanted to see Mike Knipe in a pinny as he was helping the ladies out this year.

We scooped up another Challenger on the way and Dave fell in with her for the rest of the walk as he appeared to be slowing up a little, which isn’t like our Dave as he is usually to be found at break-neck pace at the front.

We crashed though St Drostan’s Hostel door with our tongues somewhere round our knees, gasping for a beer and bacon butty. But unfortunately a tree had crashed through St Drostan’s overhead power line in yesterday’s storm, leaving the volunteer girls with no electrical power. Misery ’Eck!

However, by dint of a two ring Calor gas burner the girls performed miracles and soon a few of us were tucking in to fried pork products encased in soft white rolls and quaffing Mr Carling’s Finest Lagers. Dave was beginning to talk to me again but was shuffling about with a pained expression.

It was in the Mason’s later that evening that Andy asked if I had seen Dave’s feet. Apparently Dave had spent almost an hour cleaning and dressing his wounded feet and he was feeling a bit low. Andy is a super bloke and so disappeared off into the evening with a can of lager to entice him out of his tent. It worked and very soon Dave had joined us and was back to his ebullient self:

There were others at the Masons’ too; all rehydrating. Here are a selection of those who had told their partners they they would be away for two weeks… I kid you not!

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 11: “STORMY MONDAY”

MONDAY 23rd MAY 2011

CLICKABLE MAP

 

We all knew it was coming. It had been forecast for quite a few days: Winds over 100mph (some said 130mph, on the tops); hurricane force winds. The folk manning ‘Challenge Control’ in Montrose were advising everyone to take their “Foul Weather Alternative” routes or just not to go anywhere that day.

 

At this point I will introduce you to my mate, Dave. Dave & I had gone to school together and as lads had spent large chunks of our youth wandering about being a nuisance in the hills of Britain and Corsica. He and Bob Butler had been my walking mates for as long as I can remember. Indeed, Bob, Dave & I had applied for the Challenge together back in 1995 but at the last moment Dave had had to pull out because he was a sick man. (He has always been a sick man, as most of his friends will attest.)

 

Dave was thinking of taking up the Challenge once more, and so was persuaded to join me for the last few days on ‘a bit of a saunter,’ from Braemar to the coast: “Nothing too taxing.”

 

So he duly arrived by coach in Braemar on the Saturday, flipped up his tent at the campsite and joined in the revelry at the Fife, then on to the Moorfield for Bingo Wings and then up to Lochcallater Lodge for the party for Sunday night. The boy did well; so well in fact that, he was just about last man standing at well past 3:00am on the Sunday night.

 

 

We awoke on Monday morning with the hurricane just winding up nicely, roaring up Glen Callater and slamming into the lodge. I think Dave managed breakfast.

 

The lodge was filled with talk of today’s routes with the majority deciding to brave Carn an t-Sagairt Mor and then down to Dubh Loch and Glas-allt-Shiel. Their ‘bale-out’ route would be to drop north down the Feindallacher Burn to the Ballochbuiue Forest and then round to Gelder Shiel. This was also our FWA. However after a brief con-flab with Andy Walker, I knocked this on the head. If the weather was like it was where we were now at around 500m I really didn’t relish the prospect of it at somewhere around 800m in a wind-funnel.

 

I persuaded one or two others to join me in my plod back down to Braemar, where we could re-group at the Fife Arms for a spot of second breakfast. Looking at that decision now, it was a pretty shrewd one. By the time we got to Braemar the weather was dreadful and we were almost blown through the doors of the hotel.

 

We had almost dried out after pots of tea and shortcake and standing with our bums to the fire and so eventually set off for the dash along the A93 to dive into the forest at Invercauld Bridge. It was still pretty windy with just the occasional wallopy shower from behind but it was apparent that we were very much in the eye of the storm. We snaffled a lunch in a rare piece of sunshine sitting on a grassy bank, tidying away just as the eye passed on, leaving the meat of the storm to come charging in at us.

 

 

At this point we bumped into the braver party from Stan & Bills – who had indeed come down the Feindallacher Burn, having been blown and knocked about and shot-blasted with hail in the process. They were quite subdued but had done really well, having had quite an adventure by all accounts.

 

 

By the time we reached Connachat Cottage the storm was really up; the pines were roaring and the burns were in full spate, bouncing down hillsides at a furious pace. There came the moment when we lost the shelter of the tress and the full force of the storm hit us. It was an incredible sensation. With just a small gap in your Paramo hood to peer through, the world was a violent place and the wind was truly a physical beast as it crashed into you; every step a major effort. The rain smashed into your wet weather gear and you looked up only to check direction. It was fantastic!

 

We had a brief halt at the lean-to shelter about a mile and a half before Gelder Shiel and realised that from here it was head-first into the storm. Nothing for it but to get it done.

 

We tumbled one by one into the bothy. It had been ferocious out there! Inside was all serenity and peace and Hein Hogenhuis drying out his wet weather gear.

It can only have been 3:30 or so in the afternoon but the decision was unanimous; we were staying put as the storm was just incredible. Besides, we were now in good striking distance of Tarfside for tomorrow, to be back on schedule with a longish day of walking on a straightforward route. So we picked bunks and were very careful to keep the place as dry as possible and clear of our gear as we were expecting quite a few more Challengers in that day to stay.

 

One of the first chaps in was Richard, who to everyone’s amusement was carrying 20kg of ultra-light gear. He still had nine Real Turmat meals left in his rucksack... But let’s not take the piss as Richard was to prove to be our saviour tonight!

 

The rest of the crew from Callater Lodge arrived and very soon the bothy resembled Scott’s hut in the Antarctic. There were thirteen of us – eight in the bunks and five on the floor. Table space was limited and so we all budged up and made room for each other, taking it in turns to dash out to take our lives in our hands to fetch water.

 

 

And then the Fire-Starter arrived. Now I’ll start out straight away and say that you just won’t meet a nicer bloke than Tony and he’s an important chap in the Backpacker’s Club; he tests gear and the like. But it was quite late when he arrived and he did look particularly bashed about by the elements yet he still insisted on trying to get his tarp set up outside ‘somewhere in a bit of shelter’. None of us could imagine anywhere remotely sheltered and so we suggested that he haul his kit inside and we would make room for a little one. But Tony was made of stern stuff and crashed out of the bothy. No-one expected to see him alive again…

 

Half an hour later he crashed back in through the bothy door, spectacles askew, with various bits of kit slung from his body but with a bit of help, we got him stowed inside for the night.

 

With everyone apart from Richard and Tony bedded down, he started to get his kit together to prepare his meal. It was obviously important to pour petrol all over the table first as a primer for his stove, but once that was cleared up and the myriad of rustly plastic bags were liberally strewn across the table, Tony was once more ready to pump up the pressure of his ancient Whisperlight. Except that by pumping, he produced an arc of petrol once more, spraying all over the bothy… which he then tried to ignite.

 

By this point his petrol fumes had completely filled the bothy and everyone was sitting bolt-upright in their sleeping bags waiting for the inevitable ‘WHUMP’ as we were all surely to be incinerated in one gigantic conflagration. Thank God, Richard managed to save the day, stepping in before the fatal match was struck…

 

20kg of Ultra-light Gear and a huge dollop of common sense and kindness soon had Richard help Tony with one of his ultralight meals cooked on Richard’s stove. Our heartfelt thanks go out to Richard. He prevented a towering inferno.

 

With our nerves at their Djangly Edge, we slipped back into sleep through the rest of the storm. I was wondering what Dave was making of all this. Quite a day!

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAYS 9,10: Braemar & StanAndBill’s

SATURDAY / SUNDAY 21st / 22nd MAY 2011

 

SATURDAY: Have I mentioned that I like Braemar? Possibly.

 

Friday evening was spent mainly washing socks and pants enjoying life in the Fife Arms, sitting on my backside with pints of Guinness, with my back leaning against the back of a chair.

 

Lord Elpus has this theory about the importance of various discoveries in man’s evolutionary zeal to haul himself out of the primordial soup to become Earth’s top predator. Had it not been for a few ground-breaking “Eureka” moments, we would still be swinging from the trees eating bananas, dates and nuts; three of the foodstuffs that are on my “produce of death” list; so this topic is close to my heart:

 

The ground-breaking discoveries/inventions, call them what you will, are the internal combustion engine, the wheel and    ………    the chair.

 

And the most important of these three (and you heard it here first, remember) is the chair. When man was fed up hunting for wild boar and dragging his woman home by the hair to cook the beast, he needed to relax. He tried lying down, but the ground was all lumpy and hard and besides, its very difficult to eat your lightly poached wild pork with a pomegranate jus, lying down. You can’t handle your antler cutlery very easily from a horizontal position.

 

So, man invented the chair. Everything else then followed logically: The wheel was invented to transport the chairs around more easily and the natural next step was the internal combustion engine, which made the job a whole lot more fun. All modern infrastructure that followed; roads, rail, television and table dancing, all were simply logical adjuncts to the invention of the chair.

 

But this does not explain why Braemar holds such fascination to a Challenger. Braemar is a highlight of a Challenger’s itinerary as it has three vital ingredients that make it an essential place to pause awhile and take in the surrounding splendour.

 

As all ‘O’ Level students of a certain age (and of things Geographical) will be able to tell you, Edinburgh is renowned for its Biscuits, Books & Beer; Dundee for its Jam, Jute & Journalism. And so Braemar has the good fortune to be hallowed for its Highland Gathering, Hungry Highlander and Highland Flings.

 

The Highland Gatherings have traditionally been held in the presence of Her Madge and her family & hangers-on but lately the place has become far more famous for the TGO Challenge hitting town. The Hungry Highlander is the almost mythical fish & chip shop whose wonderful ladies sell freshly battered fish, the size of those landed in “Jaws”.

 

In more recent history, the Flings have been provided by the Moorfield Hotel and it’s Resident Rock Band: Bingo Wings; self-styled “Braemar’s Best Rock Band -Braemar’s Only Rock Band.”

 

So after a day of supping fine Assam Teas and Arabica Coffees, with just the occasional Guinness, the Challenge throng decamps from the Fife Arms and makes its way, lemming-like, to the Moorfield, to sing and dance until the band runs out of songs. This year, Bingo Wings played requests, over the mobile telephone, to absent friends, so they too could leap up and down to the last number of the night; Blur’s “Song 2” – WHOO HOOO! (You have to get through the Advert first – but well worth it!)

 

 

SUNDAY: Okay, perhaps Sunday morning could have been a little better, but the head soon clears and the awful flash-backs recede with the medicinal application of a few measures of the Black Stuff. By lunchtime, Challengers are up-for-it once more and so a last trip to the Hungry Highlander is made, for a settling haddock, before nipping back to the campsite to drop the tents and to continue the Braemar Pilgrimage to Lochcallater Lodge.

 

This is an easy step up the golf course road and a gentle climb up the Rover-road. Nothing too out-doorsy and you are soon in the womb-like warmth of what is still affectionately known as “StanAndBill’s”.

 

 

To everyone’s great sadness, since last year, Stan passed away and his son, Ross, has stepped up to the plate to join Bill in entertaining scores of passing Challengers and offering teas, cake and if they are prepared to stop over, a bit of a party. This year the party was an emotional affair as we all remembered Stan. He was a bloody lovely bloke. He will not be forgotten.

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 8

FRIDAY 20th MAY 2011

CLICKABLE MAPS & PICTURES

Ooh… There are a lot of lines on the map. To make it clearer I started at the red bit on the LHS and finished at Braemar 3/4 of the way up the RHS. (All the other lines are some of my earlier routes into Braemar…. I like Braemar, you see….)

The congregation will recall, if they had been paying attention, [sit up straight at the back; don’t slouch] that I had gone to bed the previous night a bit down in the dumps. Well, I would like to be able to say that I awoke to a sun-kissed morning full of the joys of being alive. Perhaps a song in my heart and an ode running through my mind to a loved one.

 

None of it.

 

LES SILKOWSKI’S PICTURE (HE MUST HAVE GOT UP VERY EARLY!)

I woke up and noticed that the rain sounded funny on the flysheet and that it was unusually gloomy. On top of that, Wanda was looking particularly saggy. Oh God… No… Not snow! Yes it was wellying it down with huge chunks of heavy wet snow. I pummelled Wanda’s flanks (she likes a bit of rough & tumble, does Wanda) and it all slid away to the ground. I then turned over for another hour or two’s kip.

 

 

And so it was at the leisurely hour of nine-ish or so that I was packing up after the snow had melted. All that remained were the little piles at Wanda’s flanks.

 

A battery powered Duracell Bunny happened to scamper past as I was carefully stowing Wanda into her over-day bag. It was, of course, Ian Cotterill, on his tenth Challenge. To ensure he would make it to the end he had strapped a huge solar array to his backpack and so was zooming along on solar-drive. However, the gods were not all on his side, as they had torn his BrandNewBoots asunder so that he was walking with a gaping hole in one sole and so had the quixotic expression of a hiker who knew the bliss of warm dry feet all at the same time as the misery of cold wet muddy feet.

 

 

As all girls on the Challenge will tell you, Ian likes taking pictures. He’s a man of a certain age, after all, and he has wants and needs like anyone else; it’s just that Ian’s involve polarising filters, Vaseline covered lenses (for the romantic shots, he assures me) and carrying three metric tonnes of camera gear bolted to his chest all the way across Scotland, just on the merest off-chance of capturing a pretty face or a well turned ankle. Well, he’s on the right event for the latter, anyway.

So, encumbered as he was and stopping at seemingly random moments to take pictures of imaginary women, I eventually caught the blighter up so that we trundled along together.

 

 

By this time the weather and my mood seemed significantly perkier. So, to hell with the expense, I shoved another plate into the camera!

 

 

It’s a fair old plod from where I camped to Braemar; about 30km but it soon disappeared under the shoes, with the promise of a break at Mar Lodge and cups of tea with biscuits. Life could surely not get better than this?

 

 

But, it could! As well as bumping into Tim & Kate (24 Challenges between them and 150 years!) there was Ann & Alvar and Young Andy, who had miraculously survived the stickiness of Aviemore and who had re-materialised here….. with TWO CANS OF ABBOT ALE that he had had the foresight to post from home. And the boy donated half of this booty to me! What a delightful young man. I have taken back everything I ever said about him. However, I did have to cancel out the 85 minutes he owed me….. Fair Swap!

 

So, with happy feet and a restored faith in humankind, I trundled down the road to flip up Wanda at the campsite in Braemar.

 

 

A much better day!

WAKE FOR THE WILD: TGO MAGAZINE COVERAGE

 

The new editor of TGO, Emily Rodway, had been hard at it making great changes to the mag; refreshing to see. This July’s edition is out in the shops now.

 

Roger Smith, the very first editor of TGO and now the retiring coordinator of the TGO Challenge for the last twenty years, has written a great column this month. I am sure Emily won’t mind me scanning just one page; Roger’s coverage of the “Wake for the Wild” with his comments and popping it onto the blog. Think of it as an advert for TGO, Emily…

 

You can click on it to enlarge it.

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 7

THURSDAY 19th MAY 2011

MAPS & PICTURES CLICKABLE

It had been a very happy but late night at Dave & Val’s last night and so this morning started with our wonderful hosts preparing a lovely breakfast while I was packing away freshly laundered socks and pants. I didn’t leave until quite late, ten-ish and popped into the local village stores to stock up on crusty bread rolls and Irn Bru and a whole heap of more foods of death. Yum!

The forecast wasn’t good – with strong gusty wind building in the day and overnight with the threat of heavy rain and so, miserably,  this year’s bash at the Cairngorm tops was abandoned; I didn’t fancy camping on top of the Cairngorms in a hooley. The weird thing though, as I trundled my way south along the eastern bank of the Feshie, was that it didn’t look too bad until all of a sudden a bloody great gusty bit would leap out at you with very stingy rain. Yet, it was still frustrating to see the tops mostly clear as I bowled along to the bothy.

 

I was making pretty good time but found myself in an odd mood; a bit tired from last night, slightly fed up at not doing Sgor Gaoith and generally out of sorts. I suppose you are going to get days like that every now and then but I wasn’t comfortable with it. The scenery in Glen Feshie was, as ever, quite beautiful which I suppose made the mood slowly melt.

 

Ruigh-aiteachain was a little lifeless without a fire but I made a soup and coffee and made the best of it, with other Challengers piling in to cheer it up a bit. Everyone was talking about the forecast and it seemed that we were all on our Foul Weather Alternative routes. There was discussion about stopping at Ruighe nan Leum, which has a few sheltered pitches in a pleasant little gorge, but when I got there it all looked a bit scruffy and the views were a bit miserable. There was already a two man tent pitched there and I reckoned that with the crew coming from the bothy, it was going to be a bit crowded and with that, along with the thought of the inevitable snorers, I decided to push on a little further, where I knew there would be a few better grassy spots with views.

 

And indeed there was.

So I stopped and flipped up Wanda at a really early hour in the afternoon. I could have gone on quite a bit further, but now Braemar was within dead easy reach for tomorrow afternoon, which would be Friday, so there really was no point. Besides, I was a bit down and just wanted to stop. I snoozed for the rest of the afternoon to wake late evening to make a meal, but never got round to it, so I ate crusty rolls and cheese instead with a few slugs of my English Whisky, aka rocket fuel. I was halfway across the Challenge and down in the dumps.

 

I have no idea how the night went as I slept right through.

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: WAKE FOR THE WILD: Part 2

WEDNESDAY 18th MAY 2011

I am not an online subscriber to The Times, but I have scanned the article they did on the Wake for the Wild and you can see it below. So – we made it into the Nationals!

(You can click on it to enlarge it).

TGO CHALLENGE 2011: DAY 6

WEDNESDAY 18th MAY 2011

Map & pictures all clickable

Onward! Today was to be two climbs – the first up and over to the River Dulnain and the second up and over on a rover road through the site of the proposed Allt Duinne wind power plant.

 

I had pitched by the ruins of Coignafeuinternich with Andy, John & Norma, Stuart & Maria, Bernie and another couple who kept themselves to themselves. Apparently it had been a gusty, rain-splattery night but I missed all that – as I had slept like a baby. The thing was, today was another cracker! Okay it was a bit blustery and the showers did promise to come in with a bit of smack behind them – but it was the Monadhliath – with Miles And Miles of Bugger All – true MAMBA country!

 

S&M (ooh!) and I were all heading off to Kincraig that night but chose to start off in completely opposite directions – that’s part of the fun of this amazing event – you can do what appears to be identical routes but find that in fact you are criss–crossing, so rarely meet up.

 

Even though Andy was off to Aviemore, it seemed that we were now joined at the hip and so we started off together until Andy could find someone more handsome or better at route finding to walk with. We were actually packed and ready to go at more or less the same time too! Result!

 

 

Sigrid Rausing, the enlightened owner of Coignafearn Estate, whose land this is, has made a cracking job of greening this little valley up for her wild-life. It’s ten years or so since I had last been up in this little valley and the difference is wonderful to witness. Before it had been a sterile trench and now it seemed to be bursting with vibrant growth and life.

 

Just after this shot, it came over all splattery again with some nasty little gusts but the over-trousers were only on for about half an hour. During this half hour, Andy was picked up by some big rufty-tufty manly types who were “going his way” and he was off like Flynn with them, to the awesome fleshpots of Aviemore. He mumbled something about the promise of a lot of sticky stuff in his tent. I couldn’t bear to listen. So I wandered off, alone, up the hill to have a spot of elevenses in a sheltered spot just to the north of Carn Dubh, in the sunshine.

 

I’m not supposed to have tasty things like nuts and chocolate or I’ll drop dead (or something like that – I wasn’t listening properly at the time – everything had gone blank after the consultant had forbidden marmite) but what better place to drop dead than a little gulley high up in the Moanies in weather like this?  Handfuls of honey- roasted cashews and two or three Marathon bars later I headed out of my little place of happiness to stagger about in the wind to skip through the hags to pick up the little stream that would take me down the other side. It Looked liked this:

 

 

It’s lovely, eh? Yes, yes it is. A bit of hard work though, but not for long. Because then it looks like this:

 

 

The trick is to pick up the little streams as high as possible because it’s springy turf and you bounce all the way down until you get to bits you have to be careful with, like this:

 

 

The Monadhliath around these parts is very interestingly arranged, with two plateaux surfaces – the tops (you guessed that already, didn’t you?) and a level just below them (you can see it mid left on the picture above) between the 550 and 600m contours, which means the young rivers have an interesting journey of gushy stuff, calm stuff on the lower plateau, then gushy stuff again before joining the Dulnain below. The gushy stuff is obviously more eroding and so it cuts nice gorges into the hillsides.

 

You have to be careful negotiating these gorges – the deer tracks like following the crest of the gorge and when it’s windy it’s a Good Idea (and the capitals are important here) to walk on the side where the wind will blow you away from the gorge and not into the gorge.

 

I remembered this after being picked up by one particular gusty gust and deposited on my shoulder and knee on the only rock poking out of the Monadhliath for miles around. Ouch! It hurt… Fortunately, away from the gorge.

A few miles to the north I could make out Andy and his new chums dropping down onto the second plateau on their way to the Red Bothy.

 

Lunch was called for and so I slipped into Dulnain bothy to inspect the damage ( a nasty bruise coming up on my shoulder and a puffy knee) for more highly dangerous food stuffs. More nuts, more chocolate, lots of chocolate raisins and a scrummy fruitcake. I am amazed I am still here really…

 

Looking out of the bothy windows you get a cracking view of the Allt Duinne – the little river that will be the centre of the windfarm slap-bang on the Cairngorm National Park’s boundary. The view looks like this:

 

 

Go On – Click on it – It’s glorious! It’s miles and miles of wild land beneath huge skies, with plover, golden eagles, curlew, grouse, peewits… hold on I’ll get my bird book….

 

 

As I left the bothy Ed (of Ed & Jack) arrived, having dumped poor, poor Jack somewhere behind him so that Ed could go top-bagging. I found out much later that they had misunderstood where they were to meet up and had both been sitting for hours on end in different bothies. They’re good lads and I’m sure the time spent relaxing was well spent!

 

The great thing about waking in plimsolls is that you can just bash your way across rivers and you don’t have to worry about wobbly – knackered – dangerous looking Heath-Robinson type bridges. There is only the one bridge over the two crossings anyway so I skipped across getting my feet all nice and cool. Then it was a straightforward haul along the rover-road up and over to Kincraig. The view on the way down to the Spey Valley was pretty fine:

 

 

I made it in fine time – early afternoon - to stay with Dave & Val Machin at their lovely place in Kincraig. They forced wonderful beers upon me and gave me a lovely room with ensuite everything, fluffy towels (ooh they were fluffy!) and entertained me royally! The food! Oooh the food was wonderful! Val’s a veggie and her vegetarian lasagne was just out of this world! So much so that we had seconds and then thirds! This was followed by sticky toffee pudding with ice cream and sauce (with seconds & thirds of that too!) MA came round too to tuck in, as her guests (S&M) had nipped off to bed early. Maria had also been blown over at about the same time as me a few miles to the south of me. It had been a bumpy day!

 

It was at this point that the late arrivals arrived… the Spillers, with Ged & Helen and a friend in tow… It was well past 8:00pm and Val rose to the Challenge admirably, seeing as we had scoffed everything in sight… Well done Val!

 

A wonderful day.