1994
Braemar
After a gap of three years the time felt right to arrange another holiday with David George and Andy and Ady Glover. I met David at his flat near Paddington Station, taking the tube to Kings Cross and then the train to Perth, changing at Edinburgh on route, rendezvoused us with Andy and Ady. We then did a big food shop and drove in Andy's heavily laden Fiesta to Braemar, the poor car was only a 950CC and struggled on the hills while David and I sat wedged in the back amongst luggage and bags of food. We had taken a cottage called the 'Knock' near Braemar and found it to be a very up market place, very well done out. Unfortunately it had a television and it was always going to be a tough job to drag the Glover brothers away from the set. Our first walk was as a foursome on Sunday May the 1st and took in Beinn Bhrotain and Mondah Mor. We started off by wondering whether we should walk down the private road, from the Linn of Dee, or chance it and drive.
"I think we should park here and not drive Andy."
"Do you reckon Steve?"
"Nah, the gates open let's go," replied Ady.
"But there is a loose chain and padlock," I added.
"Who's going to come and lock it on a Sunday?" retorted David with a hint of a condescending tone.
"Nobody else is driving down," I replied.
"Go for it Andy," added Ady.
"I'm not sure," responded Andy.
"It'll save us hours," chipped in David.
Andy, always a sucker for a lazy option, stuffed the fiesta into first gear and we bounced our way onto the track with no guarantee that the gate would not be locked on our return. After a mile or so we could see a Land Rover in the fields to our left suddenly divert its course towards the track. I immediately thought 'we are in trouble' and was not surprised when the Land Rover blocked our path and the driver, clothed in deerstalker and tweed, jumped out of his vehicle and headed for us. Andy wound down the window as I tried to sink deep into the rear passenger seat and disappear. I felt myself cringe as the estate worker explained the bleeding obvious.
"You can no be bringing your car down the track, it's private."
"The gate was open," added Andy with all the defence of a child handing a broken ornament to a parent.
"You'll have to be turning around, it was lucky I caught you otherwise you'd have had your car locked in."
So back we turned and, with the humiliation of other walkers strolling past, drove back to the public road where we parked up and set off on foot at 1030. By now I was keen to get going and I'd felt agitated towards the others as they procrastinated over donning walking boots and coats. Though I took comfort from the thought that had we continued then we would have been forced to leave the car at the gate, walk back to the cottage and then make a few cringe filled telephone calls to beg for the release of Andy's car.
We reached the summit of Beinn Bhrotain in just under five hours after crossing a few snow slopes that caused my head to hurt from the glare of the sun. David brought two CB radios with him so we had some fun by putting distance between each other and then holding daft conversations. After reaching the summit Andy and Ady turned back as they had arranged to meet two friends at the cottage so just David and I pressed on for Mondah Mor. We reached it at 1640, good going but alas a long way back to base. In places the snow was quite deep and I felt miserable as it tipped over my boots freezing my feet with melt water. Cutting back to the glen, for the outward retreat, we took in some very deep patches, giving David and I the opportunity to revert to our degree days when, as flatmates, we used to have snowball fights on the back streets of Brighton. Like Inspector Clouseau and Kato each promise of a truce was about as sincere as a used car salesman as snowball after snowball was pounded into each other.
The walk back was very long and arduous, we ran out of food for the last few hours which made the walk that much more tough. Reaching the Linn of Dee at 2230 still left us with a long walk back to the cottage, Andy's Fiesta having long since conveyed the brothers back. This is where David is so useful because he had no hesitation in flagging down a car and asking for a lift. I admired his confidence just as I admired the way that the couple that stopped, to avoid running him over as he stood arms outstretched in the road, did not put up any resistance as we piled into the back of their car.
Back at the cottage we found the entire place locked up with no sign of a key or Andy and Ady. So tired and fed up we sat on the doorstep for about an hour until they returned.
After a rest day, which was full of the news of the death of Ayrton Senna, Ady and I tackled the three Munros that are readily accessible from the Glenn Shee ski area. Andy elected not to do these as his feet had blistered badly from the previous walk and David elected to combine a day of keeping Andy company with spending some time by himself. After winching Ady out of bed we started walking shortly after midday, navigating between the ski lifts we reached the summit of the Cairnwell in under an hour and a half. On the way up we found four pound coins and a fifty pence in change on the ground. The coins were very grey and the newest was dated 1985. We could only guess they fell out of some fallen skiers pocket many years ago and we promptly renamed our affectionate term for this pursuit, 'Munny Bagging' to 'money bagging!'
These three Munros are some of the easiest to do as the starting point is so high, however this does not mean the summits are any lower and are therefore positioned to receive the full wroth of the Scottish weather. Today was no exception. On the way to Carn a'Gheoidh we made reasonable progress but we found navigation difficult in the hard rain and very strong wind. I felt many moments of misery with Ady, clearly stronger than me, being held back by my pace. With the tops of my legs aching the weather did not allow us to spend any recovery time at the summit, arriving and leaving at 1545 before pressing onto Carn Aosda which we reached in just over six hours from the start of the day. The wind on the summit of Carn Aosda made conversation almost impossible but we just managed to use the CB set to radio back to Andy and David that we were at the top of the last Munro. They had gone off for the day and arranged to pick us up from the ski lift car park. As we descended we kept in contact and when the ski area came into view, a murky grey picture that we could just peer at through the driving rain, we asked Andy to flash his headlights so we could see him. He did so which was a welcoming sight and allowed us to head for him. Although we could see them it apparently took a long time before they could make out the two grey silhouettes descending the mountain.
After another rest day May the 5th arrived and David and I decided to do Derry Cairngorm and perhaps another if time allowed. We did a long walk in from Invery then via Linn of Dee and Derry Lodge. This is a formidable building set against Scots Pine with the Southern Cairngorms as a backdrop. Derry Lodge is long abandoned but some attempt has been made to protect it by boarding the windows. Parts of the roof had now let and it is sadly going to decay unless the estate put some money into it for emergency repairs. It was tough walking down such a long track and the day was not helped by the weather being poor on top and I found it a real struggle. However I wanted to press on for Ben Macdui but David, quite rightly, talked me out of it. The approach to Derry Cairngorm was quite intricate with many cairns on route. Given that each felt like the summit (visibility was so poor that you could not see if we were on top) we were reliant on David's excellent navigation and his 1:25000 scale map that showed each cairn. The amount of iron in the rocks did not help as it threw the compasses so we could not rely upon them. We reached the summit at 1620 and arrived back in the Linn of Dee very late and David flagged down another vehicle for a free ride back to the cottage.
Throughout the week Ady's late starts had become a source of frustration for us all. On one occasion we did not get out of the house until 1500 after Ady had taken his time getting up. The day of leaving was to be no exception with a reasonable start required for David and I to be able to catch our train from Perth. Ady's procrastination meant that we missed our train and had a fairly long wait for the next one. Completely oblivious he volunteered to wait with us.
Unfortunately Perth railway station had been the victim of some vandalism to the extent that the gent's toilets were only accessible by borrowing the key from the ticket office. All succumbing to the call of nature David obtained the key and we went to relieve ourselves. On the way out an old chap was walking in oblivious to the fact that the toilets were normally locked. David immediately locked him in much to the protests from Andy and me. Ady and David were cracked up with laughter when the poor old chap could be heard banging on the door after he had finished relieving himself. After about half a minute David went over to the door and called through "Are you locked in?" "Aye" came the reply, David called back "I'll see if I can get a key." With that David came and sat with us for a minute or so and then went and unlocked the door. Andy and I were very embarrassed but it is one of those things where David's gift of carrying something through came off as the old guy was pathetically grateful to him for having "gone and got the key" especially to free him. It was very cruel and I was concerned that we would end up in loads of trouble. David's ability to get us into trouble is endless. When we were students, and flatmates, he wandered into my room and announced, "there is a disused military base just down the coast, do you fancy going to visit it?" It was a sunny evening and we had just taken our final exams.
"Okay," I replied. Having travelled around Northern France with him, visiting disused military structures, I knew this to be a hobby.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked as we met with a barbed wire fence.
"Yeah, we can soon climb it."
With growing unease I followed him over and the ascent of a short, well-kept, grassy slope. Peering over the top of the bank we looked down upon a military barracks complete with armed patrols and dogs.
"I thought you said..." but it was futile, David was hurtling down the bank. I caught up with him at the fence, "I thought you said it was disused?"
"Let's get out of here."
"Bloody understatement," I hissed back.
As we drove off, passing a police car coming in the other direction, I reiterated "I thought you said it was disused."
"It looked like it on the map."
"Looked like it on the map, how could you bleeding well tell that?"
"Well there were no red danger signs on it."
"No red danger signs, I was expecting you to say it had 'disused military base' stamped on the map. Jesus Christ David, how would we have explained that one away? 'Oh sorry officer we just mistook this barbed wire fence and well kept grassy bank to be an error along with the missing red danger signs on the map'."
"Well there's no need to be sarcastic," he replied.
For a second, just a second, I felt sorry for him.
David and I arrived back at London's Kings Cross Station in the late evening. I needed to make a dash across London to meet the last train to Great Bedwyn where Gisella was due to pick me up. We got on the tube at Kings Cross and were about to pull away when the carriage filled with smoke. Passengers were pouring out of the next carriage where it appeared the problem was. We took no time in joining in the spontaneous evacuation and as we were moving up the tunnels the public address system announced the emergency evacuation and closure of the station. I literally felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Kings Cross was the site of one of the worst fires in recent history and many passengers were wary and commenting about this. An old chap started to talk to David and said, "They had a big fire here a few years ago, scores of people killed." David in all time under statement replied "You'd better get out then." Once we surfaced the air was filled with the sounds of fire engines as the London Fire Brigade were throwing as many appliances as they could muster in the direction of Kings Cross. David and I did not fancy becoming part of the crowd scene so we hastened down to Euston and got the Tube to Paddington. We arrived with three minutes to go before my train left and I was without a ticket. So I dumped my rucksack with David and sprinted to the ticket office, got the ticket, sprinted back and made the train with seconds to spare. This fire, on the tube, was the third of four different fires that I was to be involved in over a five-year period.
August Bank Holiday
The next foray into the hills was a weekend away break where I flew to Glasgow on Friday August the 26th and met with Kevin Enright in a hotel near Queens Park. I was worried that Kevin would want to stay in the bar all evening but I managed to get out of a massive drinking session and instead had a good nights sleep before we were collected by our mutual friend, Mike Linnett. All three of us had worked on the infamous Strathclyde Police Command and Control Project therefore meeting in Glasgow was a convenient point. After our brief reunion, in the hotel lobby, Mike drove the three of us to Crianlarich where we found accommodation in a Bed and Breakfast. We tried a couple of places first and ended up settling on one where the guy decided that it was our divine right to be constantly talked to. His opinions always stood and anything to the contrary was greeted with a scowl.
However he did offer us some useful advice on the best route to tackle Beinn Tulaichean, fundamentally flawed due to a heavily flowing wide river being in the way. We forded that, getting very wet, before the long haul to the top taking about five hours. The weather was quite good on the way up but the top was in mist. Kevin found the walk a struggle, I did as well but I think it was tougher on him. We pressed on and after another hour reached Cruach Ardrain (which you could rearrange to be Cruac Hard Rain) from where we descended back to the car.
When we started in the morning a bull had got itself stuck across a gate in our path, obviously he had tried to charge it and broken the top two rails and was left straddled across the debris. As we crossed nearby he hardly gave us a look having long resigned himself to the fate of having the humiliation of the farmer setting him free.
Back at the guesthouse the proprietor, with all his expertise, came into action again. Our enquiries of the drying facilities that he had promised us were met with "Leave your boots on the pavement boys as otherwise it will make my house wet." He took great offence when I said that not only was I unhappy that the boots world not dry off on the pavement that it was not unfeasible that they would get stolen.
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
"Well my boots are new and they night prove tempting to somebody," I replied.
He glared at me taking it as a complete insult to every Scotsman that had ever graced the planet. In the end I found myself apologising and conceding that the most likely source of crime in the Highlands would be English holidaymakers. It grated with me, especially as that kind of person is so used to going through life unchallenged that he manages to get his way. After this swift bit of renegotiating he took the boots in and dried them for us.
When we had taken the place we were greeted by his dog, initially I said that I was asthmatic and that I should not stay here. He reassured me by saying that the dog was not allowed upstairs. When we got upstairs after our walk his cat was freely roaming around.
Sunday August the 28th took in a miserable day of Ben Vorlich (Loch Lomond). Kevin decided to stay in the pub near Ardlui whilst Mike and I set out. We started at 1045 from Ardlui and reached the summit in just under four and a half hours. The weather was very wet, even my Gortex jacket let in water. Mike wanted to return by going down the south side toward the Ben Vane and Loch Sloy area. I wanted to go back the way we had come but Mike felt the longer route would be safer. I felt at the time that this was a mistake but as Mike was quite determined on his route compliance was a better option; he was genuinely worried about going back the way we had come, as there were some quite exposed places and the weather was very poor. My reasoning to go back the way we had ascended was that the alternative involved a long walk up the pavement less A82 where an equal danger was to be found by way of the motor vehicles in the pouring rain. Once on the A82 I was genuinely scared of the risk of being hit. This was the same 'A' road that Ady and I avoided by swift use of a taxi when bagging Ben Vane.
Graham Disselduff, another Strathclyde Police Command and Control Project veteran, was due to meet us at Crianlarich for the evening and I was hoping that he would drive past while we were doing the route march up the road, he did but within a hundred yards of Mike's car! Graham said he recognised my stoop from a long way off.
We collected Kevin from the pub, Mike and I had speculated on how many pints of beer he would have consumed and we were not surprised when Kevin greeted us with a sloppy lashed up grin.
"Six pints," he exclaimed with pride.
"Just the one Munro for us," I added.
"I've had a great day," added Kevin.
Neither Mike nor I could retort with any hint that we had had a great day. In fact we had had a fairly dire day. Tired, wet and miserable, with only a total respect for each other having prevented a falling out over the route back, we just wanted back to the guesthouse for a shower. Kevin dutifully piled into Mike's car sensing, through his beer filled view on the world, that further beverages would have to be delayed.
Once washed and feeling human again the four of us had an enjoyable evening before departing the following morning for Glasgow to kill some time before my flight. We parked on the edge of the centre and walked in and went to the cinema and watched 'Four Weddings and a Funeral.' From there we walked about a bit and it started to rain heavily. I suggested getting a taxi back to the car to avoid a twenty-minute walk. Kevin and Mike were non-committal. I said, "I'll pay for it." I got no response for they were already in the middle of the road flagging one down.
From there Mike and Kevin dropped me at Glasgow airport for the flight back to Heathrow. On the flight up a very attractive lady, I guess about the age of thirty-five, had sat next to me in the departure lounge and struck up conversation. I'm pretty hopeless at picking up signals but this did feel like flirting. By chance she was in the departure lounge for the return trip from Glasgow to Heathrow. She came across to me and I sensed an interest from her. We were in separate seats so on arrival at Heathrow I made for the baggage collection point. I knew that she had only hand luggage and thought it was best to try and avoid what could become a tricky situation. Whilst waiting for my baggage to appear on the carousel the public address system announced, on more than one occasion, "would Stephen Smith, recently arrived from Glasgow, please report to the customer services desk where somebody is waiting for him." I grabbed my bag and legged it!
Now why did that never happen when I was single?
Munro Count: 37 out of 277
