1992
A Winters Walk
The year 1992 brought more determination to have a crack at the Munros. I achieved fifteen in three separate trips which more than doubled my total to date but in real terms only a scratch at the surface. The first was Ben Wyvis and to be my only Munro walked in the winter equinox - in Scottish mountaineering the term 'winter' is more often lent to describe the conditions rather than the time of year. Starting at 1000 I made steady progress, the need for frequent stops for rest had not gone but my body and mind was better able to cope with it than in previous years. Just over two and a half hours later I was walking the very windy summit ridge.
During May I hired a cottage on my own for a week in Drumnadrochit. I made life easy for myself by taking the train to Glasgow and hiring a car from there on. The cottage was a bit too modern for my taste but comfortable nonetheless.
On Sunday May the 24th I took in Toll Creagach and Tom a'Choinich, starting from Glen Affric at 1045. After some initial groundwork I struggled a bit on the approach to the first Munro, Toll Creagach. My navigational skills have never been that hot and I was unsure of my bearing. I really wanted to press on but it was becoming a reality that I would have to abandon all the hard climbing done so far and return to the car. Feeling uptight in exasperation I pleaded to the god that I have never believed in to clear the clouds so I could see the peak. My prayers were immediately answered and the cloud blew off the summit for no more than fifteen seconds, plenty of time to get a fix and proceed. I could imagine a committee of white haired old men in the sky raising their eyebrows at my request and passing on a message to the weather god to "let him have fifteen seconds then close up again, the rest is down to him."
During those few seconds the clouds swept down off the mountains and performed a striptease with the sky I thought how easy it would have been for people in ancient times to truly believe that the mountains were mystical and produced the weather (which of course in a sense they do). The Inca tribes believed in mountain gods that had to be pacified into giving their peoples good weather, they even went as far as making child sacrifices in pacification. It's very easy to scorn this behaviour but putting myself in their shoes, with the limited scientific knowledge available to them, it would be very easy to think that a storm ranging down off a mountain was because the mountain gods were angry with them.
I reached the top of Toll Creagach in just over three hours whereupon the weather cleared, evidently I was in favour, to reveal fantastic views down Loch Mullardoch, one of my favourite places. I then took an hour and a half to walk to Tom a'Choinich, completing the Munros that I had abandoned in 1989, before the descent back to the car to complete the seven hour round trip.
The following day I was due to meet Willy Newlands but I was unable to get through to confirm the arrangements. I travelled down to the tentative meeting place in case he made it but no luck. Therefore I was in Glen Coe and decided to do Sgorr Dhearg - Beinn a'Bheithir and Beinn a'Beithir - Sgorr Dhonuill. I started at 1130 from South Ballachulish and reached the first Munro in just under four hours after missing my way and ending up on a very scary steep bit. I nearly considered not going for the second summit but soon changed my mind and in fact reached it just an hour and a half hour later. The weather had been perfect all day with fantastic views until I stood on top of the second peak whereupon a thunder storm closed in and I watched the forks of lightening dance off the peaks about me until I decided that it was getting a bit too close for comfort and headed down. It was a fantastic sight and one that will live with me forever. The power and beauty of nature had combined to give a magnificent spectacle.
Deciding that my Munro tally was a bit low I contrived to make the numbers a little more respectable by taking in the Glen Shiel ridge with its seven Munros in a day. So at 0810 on May the 28th I set out from the Cluanie Inn on the A87 and reached the first Munro of Creag a'Mhaim at 1105. Then Druim Shionnach at 1155, Aonach air Chrit at 1252, Maol Chinn-dearg at 1419, Sgurr an Doire Leathai at 1525, Sgurr an Lochain at 1610 and Creag nan Damh at 1755. By the fourth Munro I got the first hint that all was not well with one of my knees. Considering the situation, and being at the point of no return (that being the easiest way off was to complete the ridge) I continued. By the fifth Munro the mild knee ache became pain which I controlled to some degree by tying my scarf tightly around it, by the sixth excruciating and by the seventh I was hopping along with a crutch fabricated from a broken ski/trekking pole that I had found. I was in agony and was the last person around, fellow walkers had long since streamed past me - any sense of pride had been lost, I'd have asked for help. The very lonely steep descent took an age, by twisting my body on each step I could keep my body weight on my good leg and just use the leg with the poor knee as a counterbalance. Thanking the weather gods for holding a mixture of clear and sunny spells, with the odd rain shower from a wandering cloud, I began to appreciate the deep meaning of the old adage that 'adversity introduces a man to himself.'
I did not get back to the A87 until 2000 where I felt nausea with the pain, the seven miles back to the car were not possible, my inner soul had got me off the mountain and plonked me down on the verge in a place of relative safety. Realising what my body was telling me to do I stood up and for the first time in my life stuck out my thumb and relegated myself to a once a noble pursuit now, post Thatcher, regarded as an occupation for the great unwashed. A number of cars passed, nobody stopped. I started to slowly walk, I did not want this, I could not do this. I happened upon a lay-by and I discovered the art of hitchhiking. Back tracking to a hundred yards before the lay-by I allowed potential savours the chance to view me, make a decision and pull into the lay-by. It worked, within a minute I was safely ensconced in the back of a car being co-driven by two Italian girls who could speak very little English and I could speak no Italian. The drive felt like ages and underlined the extent of the days walk. On a couple of occasions I tried to tell them that I had been on the top of the hills that day but they misinterpreted top to be 'stop' and I had to explain that no I really wanted this lift!
Back at the cottage the pain in my right knee made it apparent that there was to be no more mountains this week.
August Bank Holiday
My final trip to Scotland of the year was with Ady Glover and we chose the August bank holiday weekend as a convenient time. We hired a car for the weekend and drove up from Wiltshire, stopped off in Glasgow then headed for the Highlands. We planned to walk for at least two of the days but in the event we made our only walk of the weekend on the Saturday August the 29th. We started from Arrochar (Succoth) at 1025 and reached the summit of Beinn Narnain in just under three hours.
Unfortunately my knee complaint had not healed and it started to hurt very badly on the descent. I struggled up the second Munro of the day, Beinn Ime, and got there in a further two hours. By this time I was in a lot of pain and had had enough. Unfortunately Ady wasn't hearing me and I got talked into going up Ben Vane, a day trip in its own right. We got there at 1835 and we were far away from the car. I felt ill with the pain and full of anger. Ultimately I should not have given into Ady's persistence in going for the third summit but I did and in retrospect I blame myself for being too weak willed to say no. At the time I blamed Ady but largely managed to keep my feelings to myself. Ady only realised my pain near the summit and offered to swap rucksacks as mine was much heavier than his. It is amazing how ones perception of events can vary as years later Ady mentioned that he "had to carry me up Ben Vane," my recollection is that I was very slow and we swapped rucksacks for only the last few minutes of the ascent. His idea of "carrying me" was to keep about 100 yards ahead of me and occasionally wait for me to catch up. Once at the top I realised the extent of my exhaustion and our predicament in terms of time; 1835 is very late in the day for being on the summit of a mountain. After a struggle down the hill with my knee feeling like a pin jabbing tribe of pygmies had settled behind it we got to the hamlet of Inveruglas (on the A82) at 2130, miles away from our car and with no accommodation booked. The prospect of a ten mile walk along the dark road was daunting especially as the previous clear weather had now yielded to drizzle and rain. To add to the despair the only phone box was accepting nothing but operator and 999 calls. I felt extremely low, exhausted, angry at our predicament. I got Ady to beg with the operator to give us free phone calls to the Arrochar Hotel and a Taxi firm. Very luckily both of these businesses answered first time and came up trumps.
I learnt a big lesson on this walk. I must trust my own instinct if only to have myself to blame. Ultimately I should have said no to Ady.
The rest of the weekend was not so successful in terms of the weather for it rained heavily the next day and we just drove about visiting a few odd things. As we had a hire car Ady wanted to drive it as fast as possible in contrast to me who gets freaked out by fast driving. At one stage we were heading down a steep hill in driving rain, as we approached the bottom of the hill I was yelling at Ady to slow down. He was doing 110mph. I was concerned that there would be standing water at the bottom of the hill, fortunately there was not and we survived which gave me the opportunity to yell at Ady some more. Thinking back to this event, the walk the previous day, the car crash we had on the bridge in Glen Cannich in 1991 and Ady's bum sliding activities that resulted in him being helicopter rescued off Carn Mor Dearg in 1990 leads me to the conclusion that the gene that allows one to sense danger has malfunctioned in him.
Munro Count: 25 out of 277
