In which we wander through BOGLAND, and end up off track in a MIRE.
Riders On The Storm - Apt for today's weather
There's a PUN in that but you'll have to read on and see if you can spot it.
I woke reasonably early.
At the time, the weather was quite good.
I was back on track now, and needed to go and use the bothy spade.
All was good with the world.
Phil had probably used it already
He has no baffles in his pipes you know.
It is a straight through pipe, wide bore. He should probably pack a spade with his kit.
I have no idea if anyone make a UL latrine, but Phil IS the man to test it for you.
So we are now back in the early morning at Meanach.
The bothy rat has buggered off somewhere else, having kept us awake most of the night with it's foraging.
It would soon be time to head off.
There was no sign of the tent in the ruins opposite, so we hoped it had been an early start, rather than destruction in the storm from last night, because trust me, it had blown a hooley (sp?) out there.
Approx Distance 19.37 km Ascent 506m
Now there was really nothing weird or odd about today.
So if you are after a story line, you may be disappointed.
This is just what happened on the day.
Well, apart from the last bit.
We started the day from the bothy and headed over the short tract of boggy ground to pick up the track that runs up the allt nan fang
The going was ok, but up.
I like up.
It is down that my knees object to, so I was soon trudging over the hill.
The path was wet underfoot, but not that bad going.
The weather at this stage was ok, but cold and quite blustery
The higher we got, the greater the strength of the wind.
Amidst the squalls of sleet and snow that blew in, there were also sunlit patches with some stunning views back to the Mamores, and as we got higher and further towards the top, some great views of the Grey Corries.
Huge and magnificent with their fresh iced toppings.
|Al and Phil on the early ascent.|
|Last night had added a lot of snow to the tops, and more was to come.|
We were lucky at the start, the weather was being kind, although a little blustery.
Looking back to the Grey Corries you could see how much had come down.
Walking high would have been interesting
|The track was snow covered even low down.|
It was also very boggy and even here
was evidence of trials bike destruction
|In the patches of sunlit weather were great views,|
although in places the path was tough going with all the trials bike challenge
|The snow here was fresh from one of the sleet and snow squalls we had walked through|
|But even with all that, the views were fantastic|
As we did, the skies closed in, visibility dropped and the snow began to fall, sticking to our rucksack covers and hoods.
|Me in a brief lull of snow showers before descending down to the bothy|
|Al and I at the same point|
You can still see snow clinging to Al's pack
|Looking towards the Laraig Leacach|
At the bottom, there was a little bridge that we crossed.
I would in future just avoid it, and carry on down to the stream, and ford it to get to the bothy.
The ground from the other side of the rickety bridge was sodden, and boggy
The descent to the bridge was short but steep and slippey.
When we got to the bothy, there was no one else there, and we dropped our packs and got out stoves etc for a brew.
There were also a large number of army ration energy drink there, so we helped ourselves to a couple.
There were also a few spare meals, but we were already carrying too many.
Either these were someones excess ones, or no one likes Mountain House Meals anymore.
Al never did eat his.
And I never took mine, much preferring the excellent value Adventure Meals and also Bla Bland (my personal favourites) both available from Chriss Frizzel at Outdoors Grub
Shortly after we arrived others began to appear, having walked up from Spean Bridge, which had been the route that Al and I did with Sandy last year, having already broken poor old Dave (again).
|Me taking pictures of our intended route|
In fact we found them everywhere, including the pub in Balaculish.
We stayed for a while to chat, but the weather was getting even worse, and we had another bloody great hill to climb
Although in honesty, we were just going over the shoulder to the left
Does anyone own those gaiters.
As it happens, someone did
So, I was bloody grateful for that, and put them on.
By the time I got outside, Al and Phil had vanished.
I just headed in a general direction to find them pondering on how to cross the small, but deep and now fast moving stream.
Al had just got across, which is OK when you have bleeding great Twizzle like spiders legs, but for Phil and I it was a bit of a step.
In the end, I stuck two poles in mid stream, and leaped across, plunging one foot in, but so quickly, it hardly got wet.
As it transpires, this was pointless, because we spent an enormous amount of time heading up and then later down, and down, and down, and down, into water sodden ground.
Most of the way, there were NOT streams running down the hillside to the river.
The whole bloody hillside was an enormous porous stream like bog
If you were wearing shoes, you were going to get WET feet.
AND I WAS WEARING SHOES
AND I DID
It was a bit of a slog up.
There is no track to follow, nor is there one on the other side.
You just navigate
By the time we were going up the wind and snow and sleet was coming in huge gusts.
Just over the top, I found a small shelter behind some rocks and waited for Al.
Al had a brief sit down, and Phil had a Boot and gaiter Faff, and then we were off.
It was still all sunshine and then heavy squally showers.
And VERY VERY WINDY.
|Me, somewhere near the top I think|
|Looking down Coire Laire|
|Al and Phil survey the trackless bog route down|
|Looking back towards the higher hills as we descended.|
It was however, not to be our longest day.
NOR our wettest under foot.
|Al and I with the big hills behind us (picture courtesy Phil)|
As are some of the others with me in
|Much much further down the valley|
At times I hung back and took the odd photo.
At other times I charged on a bit.
I say it was tough going under foot.
That was because I had not yet done the next days walk........................
|Rushing water along the river on the Coire Laire|
It would come and go this track, so it was not always this big.
|Al and Phil, and the picture is looking back to where we had come from.|
By now there was briefly the semblance of a track at last.
But id had not prepared us for the tramway.
|View looking back up|
The showers were short, BUT very heavy when then they hit.
And then it was gone again, and the skies were clear again.
|Looking to the dam at the start of the Tramway track|
We then headed along the tramway that would eventually take us to Fersit
|The start of the track|
Well do not be fooled.
There are NO culverts on this track, and although it starts on a lovely grassy tract, it leads you on, and on, and on, and on, into a slushy messy at time narrow boggy hell.
All in all, it is a necessary evil, but it is a fucking horrible mess.
Maybe in summer (if they actually have such a thing in Scotland's, which I doubt) it would be ok.
We slithered and side stepped along it for what seemed like forever.
Eventually you come to a very very rickety bridge over the river.
I say bridge, it is girders.
Luckily, you don't have to cross it, you can skirt left and climb a small fence, and then drop down a little track that takes you out onto the Fersit Road
I should have taken more pictures of this bit, but I didn't.
Maybe Al did.
So we come to Fersit.
There are three main ways to get to Tulloch from here.
1. Follow the road (which is a LONG WAY)
2. Go along the railway line (assumes you know the timetable)
3. Go via the scenic? walk through the woods....:-(
We (it's all Phil's Faults) chose 3
This starts with a short walk down past some houses, where we stopped and had a chat with a Lady who was walking her dog.
She lived there, but evidently, new nothing of the track.
And more importantly and yet somehow worryingly, had no idea really where the station was, thinking it was Corrour.
So anyway we carried on past some very interesting old mobile homes and what looked like an obsolete refugee camp.
We plodded through some interesting undergrowth, and then came to a large 12' high locked hate.
This we climbed over and then plunged into knee deep bog and shite.
No fear, there is a path here.
We carried on in bog and muck and undergrowth, and then bizarrely, came to what appeared to be a very scenic walk though woods.
It appeared to be running parallel to the railway, which was good.
So off we set
|You can just see the railway|
|lovely scenic woodland walk|
And it was, except at some point we took the wrong path, and then there was no path.
No fear, we had been here before, it was OK.
BUT IT WASN'T
We had wandered off course.
We took our first GPS reading.
WE WAS WRONG.
The only way was down.
Through bog and heather and tufty stuff.
Then down into the woods.
The sort of thick woods that you get lost in, and then find a house made of sweets, with an old lady in.
But she isn't an old lady
And they aren't sweets
And the wood is getting dark
And the fairies have red eyes
And it is cold and dark
And you can hear their dark enticing whispers
"Come to us, we want to eat your eyes"
And they dribble nasty fluids, and slather,
and gorge on the remains of Challengers that have come this way in the past
and been lost forever.
OHHH SORRY I went off on one there.
So anyway, we went through thick undergrowth.
(again a bit like Al and I the year before near Bearnock
But I must NOT mention Bearnock again, lest the mad anonymous woman comments again, and again, and
again, because I have NOT memorised the entire fucking history of Scotland)
Anyway, back to the undergrowth full of creepy crawlies, and cobwebs, and spiky things that all fall off in your hood, and get down your back, and then stick to you, or worse still work their way into places that nasty creepy crawly sticky scratchy things should NOT be able or allowed to go.
It WAS NOT NICE
But it was to get worse, because by the time I made it out of the evil woods, I had lost Al and Phil.
I made my way towards the railway, but I was at this point by the river.
Eventually I saw a chap walking along.
"Where you heading?"
"There's a stile up there"
"Then you can get onto the railway", "It's ok, there are NO trains for ages"
And he headed off along the track away from Tulloch
So I made my way up through nasty tufty stuff, and knee deep boggy pools down to the stile.
It was a brilliant stile over the fence.
Brilliant in many ways except ONE
It had no sodding rungs on it anymore
NOPE, not one.
It was a Non-Stile.
I climbed over the fence.
Still no sign of Phil or Al
I made my way across another BOG, and then to the railway line
I was bloody soaked, and covered in smelly bog water
I could just see Phil and Al coming
"There's a stile up there", I said "I shouldn't bother. It's Fucked"
They made their way to me, and finally we were on the track.
We made our way along to Tulloch station and the bunkhouse
Listening for the rumble of train, but there was none.
Finally we arrived at the bunkhouse
We were tired and wet
AND IT WAS ALL PHIL'S FUCKING FAULT!
We settled ourselves into our room.
Peeled off wet kit and boots
Did washing and hung stuff to dry in the drying room, that at first we thought wasn't going to work, but turned out to be bloody brilliant.
By the way, did I mention that it had been BOGGY?
So, we collected parcels and stuff, and went for an excellent meal with the other guests, that AL will tell you all about because he is really good with names and stuff, and I am shite at it.
It did include the NICE OLD LADY and her husband though.
After dinner we sat in the lovely warm room with the fire.
We needed to ring Alistair Pooler (brilliant bloke as you know), to tell him that due to the heavy snowfall, and expected high winds on top, we were going to relocate the first cheese and wine party to Luib-Chonnal bothy rather than at Lochan Uaine near Creag Meagaidh
I gave him a call and managed eventually to get through.
This is a very cut down version of the conversation ........................
"Hi Alistair, we have changed the venue to Luib-chonnal bothy now"
"That's ok, I can get there, it is just a walk up the track"
"Now, there is a small issue however"
"We have NO CHEESE, and NO WINE"
"Other than that everything is dandy"
We had expected cheese, but the wonderful Humph ( we will return to this at a later date ), had sent us cheese to the Monarch Hotel, for the 2nd party, and being silly sods, we hadn't bought any in Kinnlochleven.
Having said that, we'd have just scoffed it all at Meanach anyway.
Well as you will find out, Alistair surpassed all expectation
because he agreed to bag some tops in the following morning.
Come back down.
Buy cheese and wine and stuff
Bung it in his BIG pack
Then walk up to meet us
FUCKING STAR! *****
And we all went to bed happy
Tomorrow would be a clean underwear day, and the forecast was not too bad either.
IF YOU DON'T PARTY IT'S A CHORE
And we never make it a chore!