The ridge behind the campsite.

After a couple of rest days, I still wasn't really ready to ride a bike and definitely not on the road or hard forest trails. It was also a really windy day, so I left TSK to go out for a ride whilst I mulled about on the campsite and considered my next move.

I seemed to be OK on foot so I decided, after lunch, to check out the ridge behind the campsite - a series of lumps - 2 or 3 of which may be Corbets. It didn't matter really-it was more about the boundary than the summits. I'd planned to start with the indeterminate link between a forest trail which ended before the forest boundary and a footpath off the hill which ended at a dry stone wall before the forest edge. However, in seeking out the start of the forest trail, I walked the wrong way around the campsite and rather than retrace my steps, decided to do the walk the other way around. It was late in the day so maybe I'd just recce it for another day.

I started my watch and noted it took me 40 minutes to reach the path that headed up to the ridge. On the climb, I met a walker in shorts and light windproof who warned me it was incredibly windy on the tops. Since I was wearing my paramo waterproof trousers and coat with all the venting undone to let out the sweat, this was excellent news.

• • •

The trudge to the ridge was tough and I merely wrote it off as "take a look over the other side then head home". 

 

It sure was windy but I could now see over the black isle and beyond the Forth of Cromarty to the wind turbines near Dingwall and beyond and I couldn't resist climbing to the peak of my first summit on the ridge - the highest at 837m.

On the top was a substantial cairn with walls to add protection from the swirling winds. I sat, tired, in its warm, sheltered embrace, admired the scenery and ate some food and marvelled at how a mountain and a little bit of shelter are amazing for making you feel amazing. It had taken me 20 minutes to Climb 1cm on my map so I calculated that it would take me two hours to get back. It was 4:00. Sunset was about 7pm. I had no head torch, emergency shelter, compass or whistle but 3 maps (2 elec­tronic) and plenty of layers and food.

I felt a little vulnerable but also unnecessarily epic but confident given the low elevation so I sent TSk a text

"Walking the ridge behind the campsite. Forgot spot - back about 6. I was also in full view of the camp- site for most of the route and whilst I didn't have a strong torch suitable for navigating, my red bike light was still in a rucsac pocket and would be visible from the valley should I get into difficulty. All of these musings were a little over the top for what was essentially a stroll in the park compared to most of the terrain in the Cairngorms. but the wind was making the chances of a fall seem highly likely and I was against the clock with the light.

Quite windy.  Having quite a lot of fun.

The first peak I'd just climbed was an outlier with a tempting draw to continue on to the Cairngorms range. Instead I retraced to the saddle before climbing back to the the first plateau on the return route at a substantial 735cm.

From here on it was more of an open moorland trudge to the two other summits so my 40 minutes per peak was a massive over-estimate.

• • •

I had a satisfying snack out of the breeze atop each one to fully appreciate the scenery and the shelter and continue my programme of refuelling after the top loop exertions of last week.

Finally, the part I had been dreading - the intermittent path down. However, my mind was put at ease by the sheer volume of mountain bike tyre tracks on the hill path and the sight below me of several possible work-around routes although my preferred direction wasn't obviously visible.

The forested area where we were camped was known as "The Queen's Forest" and as I moshed along the mountain, bike trail admiring some peoples' line choices and laughing inwardly at others' obvious failures, I said aloud, "Come on then Queenie, I can't imagine you descending off the moorland on your horse, getting branches in your hair, show me your path!"

Sure enough, the tyre tracks continued through the trees at the edge of the forest, snaking around the branches or roots of some fuller trees and boulders then morphed into a dreamy single-track that I promised I'd come back and ride (but never did) before pouring out onto the dead-ended forest trail which I suspected wasn't a dead end either.

 

I appreciated it as forest trails go. It didn't farce about with meandering up and down but set a steady descent all the way back to the campsite where I still had the pod to myself for an extra hour as TSK was still out playing with the breeze on his bike.

As mountain days ago it was no epic-a mere 4 hours-but it felt like a homecoming. It's so long since I've done a walk for the sake of doing a walk. No trophy hunting, no training stats, not even much of a view.

It kicked of a chain of emotions including" I should do more of this" and Ultimately led me to get the Munroes book out after dinner and head for the big hills the next day-both mind and body freed up from the shackles of uncertainty about my condition and ready to take on new challenges.