You’re better not planning. I never plan. Plans mean you have your eggs in a time basket, fine if you have a good luck gingham blanket to throw over it, but invariably if you say “I’m going to camp on Octember the 37th” then the weather comes along, cocks a leg at your basket and pisses on your eggs.
There is no joy in that.
But stagger the personnel with various activities over a few days and the weather doesn’t know whether to cough , sneeze or put the cat out. The point is, some joy will slip through the cracks unnoticed.
This weekend just passed was just such an occasion. The Friday night wild camping team of Beth, Gordy and Sandy took an early gold medal as witnessed here. Kate walked the West Highland Way from Glen Coe over to Kinlochleven at the same time, you see what happened? The weather was rushing from place to the other trying to screw it up for the folks but just snagged it’s cardigan on the door handle, got all upset as that cardigan had been a Chrismas present and missed it’s chance.
However, with eveyone marshalling at the Ice Factor for Kate’s innaugural Munro ascent, it had time to lace it’s boots and stomp on us hard.
The wild campers returned to the Ice Factor on Saturday in the pissing wet, descending out of the hill fog into a swarm of midges so vicious they would swing off an eyelash just so they could spit in your eye on their way to sink their teeth into you.
I arrived last, Scott drove up earlier, Matt and Elaine went for a morning bimble and returned, Cath, Elaina and Steve had been on the climbing wall and were now already well into the sitting down/cuppas and cake by the time I was ordering more cuppas and macaroni cheese and chips at the counter.
That was us for the day. There was much joy there though, catching up with friends old and new, we played with gear, the Big Agnes Clearview sleep mat had it’s toughest test yet and passed as you can see below.
Watching a father and daughter team on the ariel assault course out the back of the Ice Factor caused no end of excitement, there were accusations of abandonment, cries of joy and spontaneous applause for the youngster when she came back in rosy cheeked and white knuckled. I feel for dad when they go home as we’ve supplied the soundtrack to the camcorder footage which mum shot right standing right next to us. “He’s trying to save himself some expense this Christmas here…”
Some went home, some stayed, and on the Sunday Kate got her first Munro’s stood upon, Na Gruagaichean and Stob Coire a’ Chairn. The weather had apparently tried to sit on the fence and had fallen between two stools, letting them get out and up there before it stood backup again. Well done I say.
Plans? Plans are for D-Day and building a dinghy. I’ll go back to normal and switch off my targetting computer, that catches out the weather every time.