Solstice hike - not a munro - Ben Alder valley walk.

 The drive up to Scotland was interspersed with choas including forgotten insoles, mis srouting and road closures.  It took 12 hours to get to hte Ben Alder estate and the station car park.  I stopped at Perth to buy a salad dinner, parked by the river, ate from my camping chair and walked the dog in sunshine.  Stirling was crazy busy and there were road convoys through closed sections.  I arrived and set off walking at 9:30pm. 

It was daunting walking into the sunset but I had the joy of carrying my accommodation.  I was more an more nervous of finding a flat pitch as the valley sides steepened but around 11pm I spotted an old track ramp which is often accompanied by a flat spot and a little bracken thrashing led us to a wonderful nook overhung by the right level bushy tree cover.  I was snuggly warm at midnight.  Only forgotten items - my spoon from dinner time and my Rab leggings so my legs felt a bit chilly.

My wooly hat and ear plugs were no measure for the dawn (chorus) and I was awake again at 3:45am.  I cooked with the stove in the porch and the bug netting closed to keep the midges out and Lena slept through breakfast.  I was walking by 5:45 in bright sunshine. I realsied I had underestimated the hike in as streams of riders came past us with their hiking packs.

I knew I didn't want to pitch near the bothy, by the miniature village that had sprouted up there so carried on to the divide in the paths to the two routes I had in mind.  I found a flat spot on an island between two streams, very aware that without one shower forecast, we'd be out of the risk of flooding.  Lena settled down nicely in the grass to sleep and I set up the tent and unpacked my bag with the day sack packed into a gourdon Alpkit drybag.  It was a bit over-stuffed for a big mountain day.  I set off up the obvious path, then realising I was a  bit unsure checked my Garmin and found I was - as is traditional - walking up the down route.  All my failings closed in on me at once.  I hadn't packed a spare battery for Garmin and phone charging and I had left my van keys somewhere in the tent.  If anyone was up there with a mind to rob tents, it'd be an easy ride and a clickking exercise to identify and steal a few £ks worth of mercedes.  Lena was unconvinced about the whole thing and spent most of the short walk being resistent to progress down to the point of being downright objectional, refusing to move from a sniff.  She was panting and lethargic and in exchange for doing ever-lasting damage to my dog, I opted to re-trace back to the tent, eat my lunch, chill out for a few afternoon hours then try again on the shorter of the two routes (which was on the opposite river bank and now some distance away from my current location).

Back at the tent, it took me all my effort to eat lunch and stay cool.  I brewed up a coffee and let it go cold before eating.  I sat by the river then needed to sit under the tent to avoid the full sun which was cripplingly bright and burny.  Had I had any brain or inclination, we could have slow-hiked down to the lake for a swim but I did not think of that.

At 2pm we tried the other direction.  The dog moped up.  We were not moving fast and no-one had come past on their way out for hours.  I sat on a rock and looked at my book.  The notes said 10 hours for the route (without the hike in).  WIth this author, that's 16 hours for me.  We'd be finishing at 4am.  Not unsurmountable with the light in the sky but I didn't have any cover packed - like my tent - in case we needed it.  Speaking of tents, there were definitely people checking out mine.  I didn't even have the strength to put the long lens on my camera, never mind hike a mountain so we set off back down again.  Lena was obviously much happier about thsi situation.

How many times on other trips have I been in a place where I just want to sit in a remote Glen in Scotland and chill out and write - and actually I am always too late or too early or it's too wet.  I had just the right quantity of warmth, breeze and nowhere to beedness.  We just did nothing till dinner time - snoozed, wrote - shame I didn't have my sketch book.  I bought a cold "smoothie" from ULOG which I watered up - that was something else out of this world! 

Looking back over my notes, it wasn't all chilled out as I remember it.  I worried about the breeze flattening my ultralight tent.  I had no energy to move at 4 - the hike in carrying the stuff on my back did for me.  I was angry at work for being a distraction (with the redundancy process) and I blamed them for ruining the trip because I'd been distracted during the packing and the prep.  I wrote myself a lovely to do list for when I got home - remove pack duplicates, finish my bikepack bike (old one), add my watch cable, duct tape and stitch cotton, normal sized plasters.

I saw it for what it was - a long drive to practice camping with my dog, move slowly through a beautiful place.  I did mental arithmetic on redundancy when I was moving.  I was deflecting panic instead of clearing my mind.  When I lay down at 7:30 after dinner, my mind started to drift around.  In retrospect it was finally clearing and calming.  I felt really manky so I went and gave myself a cloth wash sat by the river.  That felt amazing and chilled out.  I started to wonder about hobies and passtimes, the obsession with the HT, collecting munros and I concluded that I just enjoy walking the dog. I took it as an action toget out more at home which is Ironic because if anything I went downhill after this trip.

My dinner was one of the new packs I got.  While I ate it, other climbers were coming  back down the hill at 7:30pm.  ULOG said the new meals were tasty so I was really looking forwards to it.  Green pepper, I thought of pepper - not peppercorns.  It was blow-your-brains-out tasty.  numbingly tasty.  I ended up removing all the peppercorns from my food and setting them to one side.  There was a lot of food to get through and I was already force feeding myself hot food.  I think it was one of the most uncomfortable foods I've ever eaten.  I can't say I enjoyed it, I endured it but I did eat it all.  I got belly ache.  That's 2 days without a poo. I had a spot in mind.  I even went there but nothing came.  

I took a walk to the culra bothy and the "village" there.  I noseyed around the windows where the "keep out asbestos" signs were.  It's still open for use in emergencies which explains the collection of bikes there on the wet HT.  There's also an outside space that is still available for shelter and a selection of shovels for the necessaries.

Talked to one of the walkers - it took him 11.5 hours and he said there was some tricky navigation so I was glad I didn't try it in my high-fatigue state.  

I went back to the tent and watched plovers flit up and down the river pooo-eeey ing and bouncing up and down.  

At 9:15 I went to bed so I would actually have the energy to leave.  The breeze had dropped but it cooled out enough for me to get to sleep.  I wore my trousers this time and got perfectly hydrated so I didn't need to go out into the midgey  night for  abreak.  I brewed up breakfast then packed up and set off to hike out completely at peace with chalking this one up to experience.  I slathered a man in factor 50 before leaving and stopped at a bridge with a naked man and had my own swim on the other side while Lena made friends.  The hike out was absolutely serene - back past the geese in a field, talking to another rider, sitting down to snack and feed. Making it to the tree-line was bliss and we leant against the grit bin to enjoy some shade for the first time in forever.

My biggest regret was not making another stop on the banks of the loch to have a paddle and instead of some minor inconvenience to get to the shore, we held out for the easy approach which was close to the A9 and overlooked by a building.  We sat in the shade then I realised I should've sat in the breeze.  An hour of roasting which could have been so much nicer.  Soaked my shirt in the lock then wore it to pack up our stuff where I'd left it in the inferno.  

By 2pm we were back at the petrol station cheered by drinks from a fridge and other humans sat in the shade against a cold, white wall.  Lena slept, I chatted to cyclists.  

I drove to Perth and we stopped at the arcade again to get fresh dog food for one more night on the road.  I went in the outtdoor shop to buy a sports bra since I didn't have a clean one but they didn't have any!  Lots of other cool stuff.  I rushed out quickly.  My gregory pack just pisses me off so I was wondering if a lighter one would do better - with less features and more space to put dog things on the front.  I thought about mountain biking in and how perfect my lightweight montaine would be as a day sack with the tent, stove, matress and sleeping bag on the bike.  

Finally I drove to Abington where I'd booked a stop-over on the way back.  I ate cold dinner, fed the dog, did laps of the carpark and we slept hard.  The drive back on Sunday night was sticky near home.  On Monday evening I took great pleasure in repairing the holes in the midge netting which allowed the beasties to get in.  On my trip I had them pinned closed with the few safety pins from inside my repair kit and some plaster tape. 

I was already excited about my next trip away.

The unpronounceables Beinn a Ghlo and friends

 In the Autumn of 2024 our lives imploded a little when we learned that Andrew's mum was terminally ill.  There were parties and visits filled with friendship and joy and then the painful decline of a wonderful woman.  In amongst my job changing and us moving house, I struggled to make the long drive south to visit, instead taking to delivering Andrew to the station while I locked myself away making our space liveable and the passage of time tollerable.  She passed away and we all spent months mourning, re-thinking, preparing for one last push - a memorial trip to Orkney, a place she loved.

The Orkney trip was both glorious and challenging for me.  I had to share my space with people - something I'm really not used to.  On the positive side, it was the most exquisite road trip from Sheffield to Thurso and onto the ferry then a week in a big house and some big cliff-top views.  I swam in the sea many times, did my own hikes and group hikes and we scattered Freda's ashes from a beautiful spot, surrounded by my in-family and, of course, Lena.  On the way home, I could not help but treat myself to a stop in at the Cairngorms to tick another walk off my list.  

We'd just driven half way across Scotland in a sweaty van with very little rest.  We were all exhausted from the emotional toll and we checked into the Blair Athol campsite a little nervous about being in a small pod after a week in a big house with 2 bedrooms.

My prep the night before was a feast of a cold meal due to it being far too hot to use a stove.  We sat outside on a deck and only retreated when the midges came out for the night.  Eventually the breeze got up and the pod windows went wide-open.  

Andrew dropped me off for the hike but a miscalculation in footpaths put us hiking 4 miles back to the carpark above the campsite and up another road to start the walk.  It's really not possible for me to fail to fuck this up.

Once on the track we did a last water stop and ate pre-lunch in the shade of a bothy.  I was a bit concerned about the heat but at least if we got higher, we'd get out of it and it would start to cool as the day went on.  There was a steady stream of people giving conflicting information about water supplies but we managed to get some from the last stream before the climb.  Half way up we stopped for lunch, I put Lena's mat over her for shade as well as bracken and I lay down too and shut my eyes for a bit.  We were stopped for 90 minutes.  It was 3pm when we got moving fluidly.  Plenty of false summits and we used the biggest cairns to get shade for a sit down.  

We achieved the first Munro of Carn Liath and decided to do the second then make a call abotu whether to come down based on water availability since the book said it was a good descent route from there.

 Below the col, the sunlight let me know there was water in the stream below so I ditched the rucsac in the heatehr and we scrambled down heathery slopes and a deer path to access the steely liquid.  There was a single deer in the stream bed which Lena noticed when it heard us and took its leave at pace.  She came out of hound-mode when she saw the water and she drank and paddled while I drank and filled all of the water bottles including the filter bottle and drank some more.  

It momentarily cossed my mind that we could sleep there in the shilter of the steam bed and complete the other 2 peaks on the Friday but I convinced myself there was nowhere flat and the col beyond the next peak would also be sheltered.  Filling water bottles in the wild evening, knowing you've still got a mountain to go and you'll enjoy a night out.  Absolute bliss.  I fed the dog.

A few more false summits and it got windier.  My interest was piqued by rock-fields in the lee of the Peak, all with insufficient flat spots.  We walked in the lee for easiier going and I managed to find  acut-out wiht a tiny flat spot and, it being 8pm, decided to entrust my destiny to the Hilleberg tent and give it a proper trial in the wind.  I dropped my rucsac on the spot and decided I'd better summit Braigh Coirre Chruinn-Bhalgain then so I didn't forget to in the morning. Walking to the top without the bag on was so liberating and disorientating as the breeze blew my feet from underneath me.  Can't I do one hill that doesn't involve gales?  Something that I've been saying for every route since November 2023.

 On the col beyond the peak was another Hilleberg flapping vioneently in the wind as they pitched so I felt validated by my tiny tent in the rocks and retreated to pitch.  As I did so the temperature dropped and I bundled lena indoors, only to have to get her out to move twice - once to rotate 180 degrees to get the door out of the wind and again to relocate to a flatter spot where I brewed up my dinner.  It was good for brewing up water on the stove but windier in the end so I vacated the dog once more and moved the tent to a final pitch with the flattest floor and set about eating my dinner.

When I came to set up my matress, I found that the dog had been on top of the filter bottle with her pressing down on the nozzle.  I had a puddle to clear up.  She was so sorry!  She licked herself dry while I mopped up with a sock and I'm quite embarrased tos ay that to save water, I wrang the sock out back into the empty filter bottle, then I dried off the dog's sodden tail, put a jumper on her and we had cuddles then she got onto her appointed bed and curled up to not move all night.

I managed to get out and take a photo of the sunset from my pee spot and also got a full red one from the tent door but by that time it was too cold to get out.  It was 4 degrees C when I turned the Garmin on to check. I got out at 3am to pee in the lee of the tent because I needed the shelter.  It is the closest I have ever toileted to the tent.  

Remarkably I slept through to 6.45 when I was woken up by my neighbours passing.

I ate a sandwich and pork pie for breakfast as it was too difficult to brew up on the lumps.  I laughed at myself for dreaming of a Utopia where I pitch my tent in plenty of time, have the conditions to make myself a decent dinner and cup of tea at camp and write in the book I've carried all the way up here.  

We packed up at a little bit of a hustle to get the most done of climbine in cooler air but otherwise were happy to get going, only to find a brewtopia for breakfast in the form of a rock at just the right place - coffee and a rice crispie cereal from 150ml of remaining water.  I'd forgotten how little water those things need.  Yes, the sock water was used!

Walking in the wind was tough and for the out-and-back I dropped the pack by a rock and we walked over unladen, passed by a guy in a full coat, 2 guys in nothing but wool-knit jumpers and shorts and a woman in a puffer jacket who passed while I was sprawled on a rock trying to wrestle fruit from my rucsac without taking it off.  She disapeared onwards without retracing so I am intrigued to imagine where she was off to.

Carn nan Ghabar (the final actual summit of Beinn a Ghlo) was liberating to be there unladen and I was so thankful for the ease of movement but I was so enlightened by my night out and proud of myslef for carrying my bag so far.  

We re-traced the ridge in the lee of the hill and set off insearch of the path down which actually went over another 1000m peak which we were happy to do because the author promised the best route off the mountain.  

It was enjoyable at first if I could persuade Lena to stop chasing after grouse and Ptarmigan and I could focus on avoiding wobbly boulders.  We did a lot of descent before lunch and sprawled on steep grassy ledges to recover and rest through the 1pm heat.  I pulled my shoes off and put my coat over Lena as it had quickly gone from windy and over exposed to sunny and blisteringly hot.  We drank the last of our water.

The path went steep and turned into a nightmare.  I let Lena off to prevent her pulling me over but mostly so she could go and find water on her own while I made my way down under control.  there was no control.  Foot slides repeatedly landed me on my ass on the rucsac and Lena's bet acted as a lovely buffer but 6ft slides at a time were not on my agenda for the day.  After Lena found and had a drink, I saw her making her way straight down the stream bed and I had to call her to avoid risking losing her to a deer-chase.  I was balling my eyes out calling her as she disappeared from sight.  I cut across the heather on a deer track towards the stream bed and she happily came trotting over the edge.  She'd helped me find a boggy, overgrown spring where water seeps from the earth and so I rushed over.  She sat in it, lapping at one puddle while I  pressed the filter bottle into the greenery and waited patiently while water dripped into the bag and we each enjoyed a half cup of water.

The worst was over.  I put her back on the lead for the next bits then let her off to go and get her own way down to the main stream.  I joined her a little further donw where I took my shoes in, got up to my calves in water then filled the packpack up again for the 6.5km hike out.  We loitered for a considerable time before I texted Andrew and ETA back at the car park and set off at a march to make it in time.  

I wreaked every possible pain on my body to make that hike out.  I almost tripped over a rock and had a very primeval scream over not quite falling over with a 50 litre sack.  I had stand-up rests because the idea of taking the pack off was to much so I just leant on some big boulders.  I relentlessly pounded my feet into the ground and totally ignored the final opportunity for a paddle in the stream at the bottom of the hill.  The sight of the van in the car park was an always-pleasant relief.

I went back to the hut pleasantly exhausted and slept it all off after dinner through the evening and then into the night, ready for the long drive home on Monday.  Tuesday was another holiday from work day to recover from everything ahead and damn was it great!