Day next, whatever it was, sorry to be a bit vague - and some other days
Dalwhinnie to Middle-Of-Nowhere to Somewhere-Else-In-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere to Glen Shee
The next few days take me through the really wild bit in the middle. This should be marked on the OS maps. Its not the Grampians, its "The Really Wild Bit in the Middle."
Its really wild. No, really, really wild. I saw nobody at all for three days.
It snowed and got perishingly cold. I slept with me hat on.
I saw no darkness. I was always asleep for the four hours of darkness that's available in May. They don't order enough darkness in Scotland, they use it all up in a big darkness binge in the winter, and by May, they've almost completely run out. So it has to be rationed. Four hours a night and that's yer lot.
I climbed up to this perishingly cold plateau where even the mountain hares had little navy-blue benny hats on, with their little ears sticking out through specially made holes - dead cute, like. It was called Carn na Caim, which is gaelic for "cairn of the hatted hares". Then , having struggled all the way up, with me little legs full of Newtonmore beer, I stupidly went down the other side.
In the afternoon, I turned to "plod" mode - which is like walking only much, much slower. I put the tent up and went to bed before it went dark.
In the morning, it was still light, so I climbed Carn an Fhidleir and An Sgarsoch and did some more walking in plod mode until it was still light enough to put the tent up and go to bed again. I listened to the white noise on the cheap little radio that I'd bought and then fell asleep. I only managed about 14 hours sleep that night, so I was still a bit tetchy next morning.
I went down to the Falls of Tilt where I had a serious nap and a Mars bar and a Wagon Wheel before plodding up to Fealar Lodge. I was getting quite good at the plodding by now and there seemed to be some danger that I might start to enjoy it.
I got followed by a sheepdog from Fealar Lodge for a bit. Couldn't shake him off. He was obviously bored. Fealar Lodge is an unlikely group of pink buildings in the middle of The Really Wild Bit.
"Go home", says I. Dog smiles, wags his tail and rushes off to bring me some sheep.
I play a bit. "Come by, Shep" I shout. The dog goes left and collects some more sheep.
I could get into bother for this.
Home lad!", I shout. Dog smiles and wags and does the cringing collie bit.
I try Scottish. "Away hame the noo!" Smile, wag, cringe.
I try rude words. He runs off and brings me a couple of cross-bred ewes and a blackfaced hogg. (That's a sheep)
I start making Seargeant Bilko noises. He looks a bit worried. I use the Seargeant Bilko+ program. He slinks off and peers at me from behind a boulder. We must be two miles from his kennel by now. Seargeant Bilko Gold Super-Plus V3 (2003) does it. He gets the hint and leaves in a beeline for Fealar. Or a dog-line anyway. Now I'm alone, with only forty or fifty puzzled blackfaced hoggs for company.
Then I'm in Glenshee, or more accurately at the Spittal of Glenshee hotel where I gain a room in the bunkhouse. Actually, it's a sauna with beds in it. The Slovakian lass on reception says I can use sauna if I want. I'm not sure this is a good idea, though, in view of the condensation.
Anyway, dinner in the restaurant which is a hot buffet - scoff as much as you can for £15, which I did. Loads of beef, lamb and chicken, spuds, brolloci, peas...
I learn the Czech word for Liver and Bacon.
The evening is spent with two taxi-drivers from Dundee, whom I don't really understand 'til the whisky kicks in, and then there's a quiz and bingo. At 11:30 pm the taxi drivers persuade the Polish bar staff that its not "Last orders" at all and we all have a jolly time. The staff join in and get ratted. Sometime in the early hours I creep back to the sauna for a bit of a lie-down and a spot of whirling pit. (That's when the bed tries to throw you away).
Breakfast is another buffet. Loadsa scoff to be had. Fried eggs, scrambled eggs, bacon, kidneys, hash browns, beans, sausages.... I learn the Bulgarian word for "Thick head" Or was it "Thickhead". You can never tell...
