Heading Home

There was really quite a short walk today, so we had the longest lie of the week, getting up at about 7:30 a.m. The weather was still pretty grey but it wasn't actually bucketing down, so we set off through the Mamores on a good track. At one point there was an easier route to Fort William, but we kept to the track.

It was when we had only about an hour to go that Hugh and I had exactly the same sensation. We were weary of all this. Talking about it, we reckoned that until that moment, when we were heading down Glen Nevis, the adrenalin had been keeping us going. But the brain decided that now that adrenalin was no longer needed and it was shut off. Boy was that hard!

We ended up at the Fort and met Ronan in the park just as the rain was starting to come on harder again. Off to a restaurant that he had found that, though not allowing Freja inside, had a place out the back where she could get a little shelter. I felt quite guilty, leaving her outside as we ate a hearty lunch. After all, she had stuck by me for these six days, and unless she could sense something, for all she knew it was going to be another six days before we arrived home. In fact, it was just a little more than six hours.

A very wet day

We woke to a very still morning. I knew just what this meant and shouted through to Ronan's tent that I wasn't going to cook anything… it was cereal bars for breakfast without opening the door of the tent or the mosquito netting! Before striking camp, I donned midge hat and gloves, and was fairly safe, but the others were driven just about demented. Oh, the Highland midge, what torment such a little creature can put us through… she and her friends.

We set off and within a quarter of an hour, had stopped to put on full waterproofs. We needed them for the whole day as the weather closed in. The head of Glencoe looked very atmospheric! Up over the Devil's Staircase (which wasn't so bad really) and Kat was very slow because of her knees. There was no way that the others could walk as slowly as she was doing, with the result that they got very cold waiting in the chill wind. Hmmm...

Eventually, we arrived in Kinlochleven and decamped into the bar of the Macdonald Hotel, smuggling Freja in because if you don't ask, you can't be told 'no'. It was soup for everyone and coffee and tea through the afternoon. Freja and the rest of us had just about dried out by the time we set off again at 4:30 pm to put two hours walking under our belt, which would make the next day's walk to Fort William and the 5:35 train just a little less stressful. We found a lovely camp site, though pretty close to the track, and pitched camp just as the rain was beginning to ease.

Bowling Along

This was by far in a way the best day. We started off from Tyndrum in grey mood to match the grey morning, but as we walked, the mist began to clear and there were patches of blue sky. We headed over the path by the road and railway and Ben Dorain's classic concave slope appeared before us. Wow!

Down to Bridge of Orchy, where Ronan and Kat decided that they would take the bus up to the Kingshouse Hotel. Kat was keen to preserve what were left of her knees for finishing her walk into Kinlochleven the next day. Ronan was keen to find an excuse for taking it easy! The four of us who remained headed over the hill to Inveroran, where we had lunch on the grass opposite the hotel, though made use of the hotel for drinks and toilets.

Then it was over the edge of Rannoch Moor and the four of us just bowled along. At one stage the track was wide enough for us to walk four abreast and that we found was the fastest formation. When you are walking in line astern, it is easy to drop back a bit but when you are in line abeam, you do your best to keep the line. Freja was in front, of course, and much happier in this good weather. We stopped at Ba Bridge and dangled our hot feet in the water. This would have been where we would have camped and a glorious spot it would have been, but we had decided to push on to Kingshouse, where Ronan's and Kat's kit was being taken.

So we were ahead of schdule when we arrived, very weary but quite elated and pitched camp just over the river from the hotel. There was a bit of a breeze, so no midges (Kingshouse is renowned for its midges!). And Ronan and I had our first, and what became our only, camp-cooked meal.

Rocks and Roots

Putting on the pack is not as bad today, but maybe that is because I have eaten virtually all the food. The midges are out in force and I am glad I had Freja on the lead or she would have been half way across Loch Lomond chasing the ducks and ducklings that paid a morning visit to the campsite.

The track to the farm where we were to meet Ronan was exceptionally difficult. This had been predicted but the rocks and roots held us up considerably. We met Ronan and my concerns were quick to evaporate when I discovered that he was sending his pack on to Tyndrum by van. I was going to find it difficult to pack up more food, especially as he had seeming;y taken it upon himself to double up on everything I had bought!

In the afternoon, the track was better, though it was late by the time we arrived in Tyndrum. It was a great relief coming down past the rail viaduct to the road but seemed much further after that than I had imagined… but this is the story of the Way! That night we ate in the local chippy, or at least the Explorers did… I ate ooutside with Freja and Ronan kindly joined me.

By Yon Bonnie Banks

We set off early down to the road north of Balmaha and along the shore of Loch Lomond. Just after Cashell Camp Site, it started to drizzle so we stopped to put on waterproofs. We continued up and over the hill, which had changed much since I last walked here. The trees are now quite mature! Down to Rowardennan.

Continuing along the shore and then up the track, it seemed as if our destination, Inversnaid, was getting no closer. Just when I thought that we must be nearly there, there was a map indicating that it was another four kilometres to go. Well, thank goodness the map scale must have been wrong, for we covered the ground in just under half an hour. On to the camp site in the woods, but that night Sarah lsft us, he knee playing up. That's two down and four to go… and I'm talking about Explorers, not days.

One down and five to go

I had been thinking that this day would never come. The week before had been such a relaxation, maybe somehow I would be spared the trial, perhaps it would be called off… But no… today was the first day of the West Highland Way with the Pentland Hills Explorer Unit. We met at Haymarket Station at 7:45 a.m., Freja wearing her own little backpack. Somehow the youngsters' packs looked lighter than mine. Maybe they had taken my adice on reducing the amount of clothing carried to a minimum. I wish I had done this myself. Then again, they had shared out their tents, cooking equipment and food… I was carrying all my own.

We set off and soon I had dropped behind because I had to clear up after Freja. I made haste to catch them up and was just about to follow the Way which went off to the left when I saw the last two of them disappearing ahead. First navigation error… not the last. Lunch was eaten on the lawn of a restaurant (seats only for people who bought drinks from the bar). They make no charge for filling water bottles, but do it grudgingly, even for those who have bought drinks from the bar.

Passing Drymen, Joe decided he couldn't go any further, so I had to accompany him into the village to await his father. They gave me a lift into Balmaha and after waiting for a while, I set off up Conic Hill from the other side. Just as well, because they were all very late and we decided to camp on the hill overlooking the loch… what a glorious sunset.

Passing time

This morning, Freja and I walked up to the broch beyond Totaig. It was 35 years ago that I first came here and in that time, the forest around it has grown and been felled, so the view is not dissimilar from that when I was first here. There were a few showers while we were out but within minutes of our return, the heavens opened.

We took to the water in the afternoon and Freja was much more relaxed than last year, curling up to rest on the deck. She was interested in the seagulls but not in the seal, which I don't think she saw, nor in the porpoises, which I don't think she recognised as creatures.

In the eveneing, after Hugh's canard a l'orange, Hugh and Ilona took to the water again to avoid the midges and Freja and I walked along the shore. What a great view there was back to the Five Sisters.

Relaxation

Good heavens, nearly a week has gone past since I last wrote anything in this weblog. Luckily this is not a diary, so I have no need to account for myself, but it was a fairly hectic week planning my trip away, or rather trips away.

Freja and I are now on the first of these staying with friends Hugh and Ilona in Letterfearn on the south shore of Loch Duich. Despite the forecasts, today has been a lovely day (until about 5 o' clock anyway). We spent the morning helping Hugh in the garden — Hugh was mowing the lawn, I was strimming the edges and Freja was searching for rabbits (and eating the raspberries, but don't tell Ilona). We then had a game of croquet and Freja was very good in not retrieving the balls for us… though she might have been more interested had they been hedgehogs.

In the afternoon we went for a walk up beyond Loch Cluanie, ending up with afternoon tea from Kim at Ceannacroc Lodge. What a small world it is. Ilona knew Kim's mother, Norma, and stepfather, Richard, through opera in Edinburgh and I knew Richard by proxy from the Shakespeare at Traquair.

Back home to An Goirtean via the Kintail Lodge Hotel and I prepared asparagus salad followed by my green Thai curry with pineapple rice and non-long beans.

Free as a butterfly

When I opened the door this morning to let Freja out, a tortoiseshell butterfly flapped in at ground level. Freja showed a little too much interest, so I kept her back and encouraged the insect towards the door. It didn't seem to want to fly. It flapped out on to the back step, so I picked it up and threw it into the air. Away it flew. I wondered how long it was going to survive, but it struck me that there is nothing that appears to fly as freely as does a butterfly.

Freja didn't even want to go out, at least not until the rain had gone off.

Two Munros before lunchtime

The forecast was good, so Freja and I started off early to Glen Doll. It was a good drive and the car park at Glen Doll was pretty full. The parking machines were out of action and I had to pay £2 at the reception centre. Apparently when one machine jams, the other gives up the ghost; they have just been repaired and it is going to cost £400 to repair them again.

We set off along the track and then up the Kilbo Path, the Shank of Drumfollow. Some of the upper part of the forest has been cut down and this area and the open ground were in the sunshine. It was a hot climb and we reached the top of the path in an hour or so. Freja's wee rucksack worked beautifully.

After stopping for a morning break, we headed up Driesh, where Freja's backpack was admired by a group which included a local farmer, a lady from Forfar and a friend from South Africa who also admired my trousers from Zimbabwe. Then back and up Mayar, where we met a dog who was very interested in Freja. We stopped for lunch on the way down. There were great views north to Lochnagar and southwest to Ben Vorlich and Stuc a' Chroin.

Then down the Kilbo Path again and Freja had a little freedom in the forest. A great day!

Working to Rule

When I came home at lunch time, I found a card through the door saying that the package that I had been expecting had been taken to the Post Office in Broxburn. In the past, the postie has left parcels in the wheelie bin or under the mat and written a note to the effect. The reason for this must be that postal workers are working to rule at the moment.

And yet the envelopes that are returned to me at work as undeliverable, although they have a little red sticker attached marked 'addressee has gone away', do not have that little red sticker completely filled in. Obviously they are working to the rules they want to.

But do not think that I have it in for all postal workers. I was out cleaning my car one Saturday morning and the postie came round uncharacteristically early. I went to the gate and took the letters and he rushed off.

"You're early today," I said.

"I know," he said. "I don't have time to chat. I want to get these letters delivered before we go on strike at 9 o' clock!"

Moonday

It is forty years since Neil Armstrong made his small step and Man first landed on the moon. What a coincidence, then, that today in Monday… the day of the moon. The word is derived from the Old English mōndæg. And it is not only in English that it is moonday… the French have lundi, the Italians, lunedì, and both come from an ancient concept encapsulated by the Romans with the Latin dies lunae.

This is also the last day of the old moon — the new moon is tomorrow, on 21st July. After the moon landing forty years ago, I naively imagined that the giant leap for mankind would herald in a new era of cooperative venture. I suppose that it did after a while because the International Space Station is just that, but I have been rather disappointed with the rest. The world continues to spin and Man continues to squabble and fight. There has been no dawning of the Age of Aquarius… and now I don't believe there ever will be. Not until we manage to wipe ourselves out.

Rubus idaeus

Freja and I enjoy walks at this time of year, not least because the wild raspberry canes are in fruit. During our early morning, pre-breakfast walks in the woods, there is nothing better than picking a few raspberries and enjoying their tart sweetness.

Freja thinks so too. She was just a puppy when I taught her the delights of Rubus idaeus. At first she had to be shown the berries and I had to hold the stalk while she picked them, but since then, she has become proficient at seeking them out and helping herself. Unfortunately, she does this when she is in people's gardens as well, much to the chagrin of horticulturalists.


Always willing to educate those of this world who did not have the advantage of being born Scots, here is a recipe for a dessert that goes by a name which you actually need to be Scottish to pronounce correctly:

Cranachan

100 g pinhead oatmeal
250 g raspberries
250 ml whipping cream
2 tblsp heather honey
2 tblsp malt whisky

Place the oatmeal in a dry frying pan and toast over a low to moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until it is golden brown. Turn off the heat and let it cool in the pan.

Reserve the best raspberries for decoration (half a dozen per glass). Whip the cream in a bowl, add the honey and whisky and fold in gently. Carefully fold in the cooled toasted oatmeal and then the bulk of the raspberries, breaking up a few to give the cream a pinkish colour or marbled appearance.

Add a few of the reserved raspberries to the bottom of each serving glass, and then spoon in the cream mixture. Artistically add one or two raspberries to the top of each glass. Chill before serving, but not for more than a few hours or it will lose its soft texture.

It is traditionally served with shortbread… homemade, of course.

A dreich day

Today was dreich. And for anyone who is not too familiar with the Scots language, I quote my Scots Dictionary:

dreich adj 1 dreary, long-lasting, persistent; tiresome, hard to bear. 2 of time, journeys etc long, wearisome. 3 of sermons, speeches etc long-winded; dry, uninteresting. 4 of the weather, scenery etc dreary, bleak.

It was today's weather that was particularly dreich… it was grey in its dreichness… the sky above was grey, the water in the River Almond was grey, the streets of Edinburgh were grey, the Georgian buildings lining those streets were grey, the trees in the park were grey. It was a grey day.

There is a particularly uninspiring little village in West Lothian, a village with really very little to commend it, and it is called Breich. It is full of grey houses and every time I have been there, the weather has always been miserable. As the saying goes:

It's aye dreich in Breich.

That's it for today.

Starting out

It had to come, didn't it? I had to start blogging sometime. I would say 'we' but Freja isn't really going to create a great deal of input to this, except to appear in photos. Freja is a working cocker spaniel, you see. Her full name is Freja Sail Liath and her parents are Giorgio of Keisan and Meiklehope Leda. My parents were John and Dorothy... well, my mother is still Dorothy… it's my father who is the 'was'. One of Freja's great grandparents was a field trials champion. One of my great grandparents was a stamp collector.

Here's a photo of Freja and me, taken at New Year 2008.

But now Freja tells me it is time for her dinner.