There seemed to be an awful lot of roadworks on the A82, I think they’re trying a new system of traffic calming/tourist disenchantment or something, just in time for easter.
The red/amber/green of all the temporary lights were the cheeriest thing I saw on the road up too, it was driech. The whole journey felt like I had my finger poised above the big red button with a sign saying “Do Not Press”, and all my instincts were saying, indeed do not press right enough, let’s go home and forget this escapade into pishy weather.
I stopped at the Ft Bill Morrsons for a pastry, a bar of Cadbury’s Old Jamaica, some Babybel and some cereal bars. I sat back in the motor and again thought of going back as the windscreen wipers pushed drops of disappointment to one side and the other. No, it’s supposed to clear up.
I pulled into “my” parking spot at the Countryside Centre just past Morvich. I’ve been here so many times, camping trips over the years to bag local Munros with friends now long gone, and one more recent trip brings a smile, it was with a wee lassie I’d met in Edinburgh who would be my wife two years later.
There was new history too, in my many attempts to climb Sgur nan Ceathreamhnan I had parked right here twice last year. Both trips were a joy, and one actually saw me camped on the summit. But as I scanned the tops, the grey mist brushing the rocks and swirling in the gullies didn’t fill me with hope for this one.
However fortune favours the brave (well, that’s what we say when we know this not a good idea), so I kitted up and headed off onto one off the finest tracks I know.
I met a father and son playing in their garden just over the bridge, the dad’s eyes had some sympathy there, “I think it’s looking a little better than it was…”. Maybe, there was a luminosity about the cloud that spoke something about it’s lack of depth, maybe it’s burn off soon.
The last time I was here the grass was tall and green, the trees were bursting with life and colour, dragonflies whirred alongside me and little birds zoomed by, skimmed the ground as if it were performing in an airshow and then up and away with afterburners-on to the amazement of the crowd. Today it was different, bare, despite the dampness it looked dry and what colour there was left was soon bled away by the rain as it edged in bring a little darkness with it. I stopped and pulled on waterproof, fixed the hood in place and carried on with the tak-a-tak of raindrops on the back of my head playing me a monotonous tune, for which I could find no words to lighten its tone.
I rounded the shoulder of Sgurr a Choire Ghairbh to see that the two burns that run from the two grand corries on the north of Beinn Fhada has joined forces to make fine fast and deep flow where I’m more used to seeing water bubbling around the rocks. The little river must be about twenty feet wide at the best crossing place, and the thought of filling my boots with freezing snowmelt did not appeal. It did take me a few goes, but I was soon over with hopeful feet placed on greasy rocks and I was climbing the zigzags to the Bealach an Sgàirne.
It was a wrench not to be entering the pass, a wonderful little place, full of secrets and drama. But my route was a right turn along the stalkers path into the coire, and as the track contoured higher imagine my delight as the rain gave was to sticky sleet
Shrouded in cloud and waves of sleet, this is still a place of great beauty. Buttresses, ridges, sheer cliffs, pinnacles and deep dark gullies surround you and tower over you as you climb but get no closer to the skyline. It was getting darker too, “Ah…” I mused “That’ll be because it’s snowing now”.
If I was making a movie and wanted to film a scene where the cast of lost travellers, possible from a crash-landed hot-air balloon, were about to get all emotional and have moments of self doubt followed by tears and recriminations, I would have shot it right there and then. Mind you Doug McClure and a swooping Pterodactyl would have worked just as well.
In reality I suppose such situations are just an inconvenience until you throw the instructions away and try to make something out of the parts from your imagination. In most cases it’s unlikely to be a perfect 1/43 Supermarine Spitfire, so bearing that in mind I stopped and had a think to myself.
Visibilty was zero a couple of hundred metres above me, and that was where I was supposed to be going, onto a plateau ringed with weak cornices, cliffs, giant mousetraps and snakes to slip down right back to the start.
No chance.
I looked ahead and there were some good camping spots a bit off of the stalkers track, that’s would be me for the day. A got a cracking pitch on big grassy dumpling and soon had the tent up and my gear unpacked. A fast flowing burn wasn’t too far away to keep me going with water and I felt well set for the night.
Once I sat down I realised just how loud the waterfalls were behind me, the roar from the white cascade was loud and constant, but benign and soothing.
It was joined by the roar of my stove soon enough and I slipped into my sleeping bag fully-clothed as cold crept into every corner.
I enjoyed a hot dinner, a pastry and a cuppa. But I was still a little cold, in fact feeling a little out of sorts. I stuck my iPod on and decided to have a snooze.
I discovered this was going to be the demon I would have to wrestle all night. The tent was small, very small. I’ve got winter-weight mat and bag here and my nose is on the canvas at one end and my feet are having to go side ways at the other end so I don’t push the inner onto the outer all the time. I lay on my side, pulled my legs up, tightened the drawcords and made the best of it to the sounds of “Shuffle Songs” gone insane.
It was bright, even through a black flysheet I could see it. I put my feet into unlaced boot and fell out of the tent to see something different. A full bright moon was trying its best to shine through, and managing increasingly well too. The cloud was higher and patchy, I could see scraps of indigo spattered with stars.
It was twenty past one. How long had I lain there half asleep? I should pack up and head to the summit, it’ll be beautiful up there just now, I can see the ridge line, the surrounding peaks… No, no, no you idiot. How true, but my heart sank a little at the slap in the face from the sensible hand. I made do with a hot chocolate and a wander in the moonlight.
To be in the hills at these times is an unending joy and a privilege.
I decided to try and get some proper sleep, and headed back to the tent. I was dismayed to find the sleeping bag wet from condensation, jammed in and touching the inner everywhere as it was, but inside was dry and still alittle warm from my previous visit. I stripped down to my baselayers and got cooried in for the night. But to keep my face and feet off the tent I had to stop myself stretching out, and after a walk in the rain with a pack, I kinda wanted to stretch out.
I tossed and turned, cursed and fidgetted to the increasingly bizarre choices of my iPod as desperately tried to find comfort, rest and sleep. At five past seven I gave up.
Screw this, I’m getting up. I slacked off the hood and it was bright, I unzipped the frost crusted tent door and peered outside. My foggy eyes struggled to focus, so I squeezed on my iced boots, grabbed my jacket and stumbled out into a very different world to the one I had been hiding from since last night.
Hey! at least you got out!… :)
Crackin photies.
Ha, memories, it’s exactly a year since we were up that way getting rained on day after day! :)
I agree with Beth, the photo in the moonlight is a cracker and worth the sleepless night. Shame about the tent though. I have a Banshee and have a lot of the same problems with my size 7 feet touching the roof but at 5ft 4in at least I can stretch.
It was great trip, and in three halves (?) as well, the walk-in, the moon, and the summit stuff on day two (of which more later).
I love my wee camera for the night photies, it’s good to be able to record the whole trip these days instead of just the daylight stuff.
The tent though? I’ll have some thoughts on that, and I will test it again. But…
Matt, it is lovely in the rain, but it is nice when it stops too!
That second last pic is a cracker.
Thats one of those vango jobbies(jobby being the right word by the sounds of it) aint it? Pokey wee thing if i remember correctly.
Anyway well done for getting out, I too was supposed to go for a three day wonder but cried off on Sunday when i saw the forecast. Kinda frustrated but looking out the window right now I think I choose wisely.
Heres to next week……
As has been commented before crackin photies. Looking forward to the rest of the story
Ah people, you are kind.
Looking out of the window just now I can see that I did quite well with the weather!
“Destiny of the Daleks” later or tomorrow :o)
Horror to joy. Great photies as usual…
Thing that surprises me most is that you’ve been further east than Stirling ;-)
It has been known :o)
“stopped at the Ft Bill Morrsons for a pastry, a bar of Cadbury’s Old Jamaica, some Babybel and some cereal bars” – that’s one hell of a good diet you have there Pete – almost worthy of the Broon’s! No Irn Bru tho’? Or is that taken intravenously?
It’s really hard to get Old Jamaica, you have to stock up when you see it!
I nearly did take Irn Bru, I often do, but the weather said “hot Drinks”, so I though better of it. Had some on the way home though.
There’s always room for Irn Bru!
Good trip shame about the tent. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been in a tent…
And the photies… well I won’t keep going on about them. They’re great!
btw what is Cadbury’s Old Jamaica? I’ve never heard of that before.
Nothing soothes my brow and sends me off to the land of nod like the sound of a waterfall. It’s that white noise thing, it just cancels out the chatter of the mind and I’m out like a light!
Seriously?
Used to be this http://echostains.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/old-jamaica-1973-and-dont-ee-knock-it-all-back.jpg in the 70’s
It’s this now http://www.chocobloc.com/IMAGES/cadbury_old_jamaica.jpg and hard to get.
Lovely.
Tent soon, Spring is nearly here and you won’t need extra gear for that.
Holdfast, it also makes my tinitus disappear!
It’s so good to be back camping. A bigger tent and it would have been perfect.
Really nice pictures.
That’s probably why I haven’t seen Old Jamaica for years, been looking for the 1970’s wrapper! Mmmmm Rum n Raisin. Nom nom nom :-)
Thanks Stefan. It always makes these trips last longer when I come home, download them and look through them :o)
Bob, seek it out. I’m sure it tastes the same.
I have one right in front of me…
I guess the weather and the crummy tent are the price you have to pay sometimes for having all that gear to test. No, you can’t take that tent you KNOW will keep you safe and comfortable, cos you’ve got to test this lemon…
That’s the beauty of it though Kate, I could fanny about in a shop or the garden with that tent all I want and be none the wiser. But pitch it in the snow, in the dark, sleep and cook in it and I feel I’ve gotten to know it.
I love that whole thing. I love not test pitching a tent either, out of the stuffsack and onto a hill, if there’s any deficiencies they soon show up :o)
I’ll write the gear up from the trip tomorrow if I get the chance, there’s quite a few firsts: GPS, Jetboil, Exped, the tent…
aah i think i vaguely remember that old orange wrapper. And 9p! of only it was that cheap now.
AND it will always be Cadbury’s (not Cadbury) to me. why did they get rid of the ‘s ?
The possesive apostrophie? It was a “shift of public brand perception and market positioning”, I think they mean it looked old fashioned.
It’ll be changing to “Dairy Milk by Kraft’s Bitches” soon. The shareholders should be ashamed of themselves.
Aye i was going to say that. But to me Kraft will always be associated with plastic cheese triangles – Dairylea!
I like Dairylea on toast.
I want toast.
Maw and Paw like a wee Dairylea triangle on toast. I’ve never tried the stuff. In fact i only tried peanut butter the other day and it was gross. I prefer Nutella… eaten off a spoon! :o)
Anyway we’re getting off the subject of that trip above. There’s something pretty stark and atmospheric about those night time shots. Lovely.
Dairylea on toast, with marmite on top of it.
There’s no future in peanut butter. Nutella, now there’s a horse with winner written all over it. On a toasted croissant.
Now I want one of those.
Night photies are fun. I swear to you it looked just like that, only colder :o)
Marmite topping? Now that’s a curveball!
Marmite!! No. Way. Bluergh…
Nutella, on a toasted pancake. Or or Nestle Caramel-from a squeezy bottle (boiled condensed milk really) on a hot pancake with ice cream and strawberries! Oh I’ve not had that for ages and I’m meant to be NOT eating sweet things. But it’s delicious.
Now I’ll return to reality and tell you my current snack at work is fruit and Ryvita Crackerbread ( = cardboard!) oh joy! :o)
Man! Fantastic photies here! Well worth the pain just for that second last one – looks more like concept art than real life! And thank God I’m a short-erse, I’d wondered how comfy the tent would be with a full-sized fella inside it… (I mean inside your tent, I haven’t considered bringing men along to share my tent with me on my trips)
Old Jamaica? A glance at the history books reveals this to be a kind of confectionery popular many years ago. I imagine you probably looked forward to a square of this after a long day… having to walk barefoot through snow 5 miles to school, a half hour of black and white telly if you were lucky, none of those new-fangled things like computers and video-games back then, mince-n-tatties 5 days a week, you made your own entertainment… etc…
What about Galaxy bars? Or are they too bourgeois for you old-timers?
Ange, don’t let the food fascists spoil your fun :o)
Sid, it is a great tent, just not for a six-footer.
You are actually describing my early life there. I remember sitting on a Saturday morning waiting for the programmes to start…
Galaxy is a joy, but in order for it to be legendary, it has to be in the form of “Counters”, basically the flat Revel’s in a bag. Another 70’s treat!
Ooh, the flat Revels – I always put them aside to eat last. Anyway, a square of Old Jamaica. How does that compare to 1/5th of a Mars Bar? Have you any idea how difficult it is to cut a Mars Bar fairly into 5 pieces? And the end bits have more chocolate on…
Slice in lengthways like ham?
Hmm, that exacerbates the chocolate end problem….