Some of my last Scottish Munro Hills 25 2 25
Benjamin Franklin, a founding father of t once great US of A..? 2025 2 5
Is noted on Tik Tok for saying Man grows old before he gets the wisdom of how to enjoy one's life, or words to that effect: which strikes a chord in my old head as I seek to make sense of the last two incumbents of the US White House sitting as I do this am at 6:27 a good few years their senior in my attaining octogenarian status plus 5.
The preamble to recounting my last full year age 79 I last visited Scotland in 2019 in pursuit of my remaining Monro hills: 21 in number when I succeeded in claiming the summits of 7 new peaks plus 1, an old chestnut my wife and I had climbed many times before, Meall Chuaich (hill of the shallow, two handed cup), at 920 metres just to the south of Newtonemore.
The first then involved a 6 hour walk-in to Allt Scheicheachan Bothy, unoccupied my good fortune, to the south of the nearby Beinn Dearg (Red Hill), a popular name for a hill in the Scottish Gaelic tongue, which took me longer than I expected: a modern map of the area would have suggested, but walking as I was on a 1980 version, my walk in inclemment weather with rain and mists, took a wee while longer but nay bother, so I thought safely returned by it, to spend a second night at the same bothy where I could eat another breakfast of my Alpen cereal, the one with no added sugar. With a walk out on my third day, 2019 5 20, in 4 hrs 17 minutes when I could take a train back to Pitlochry for more comfortable accommodation at its Back Packers Hotel on the High Street.
My next adventure saw me departing on my senior's train ticket, now available also to tourists from abroad, first to Fort William, and then to Glen Finnan, over the famous viaduct completed by Sir Robert McAlpine in 1901, standing more than 30 metres in height. It was a ground breaking achievment using concrete to build it: perhaps on my outward journey on the occasion I also travelled there by the steam locamotive which operates between Fort William and Mallaig in the summer months (?) for my journey of 24th May.
My walk from the station took me 3 hours to Glean Dubh Lighe Bothy pulling my shopping trolly with my sturdy Jaguar VII rucksack I bought in the 1980s: as hip-loading 60 litre capacity sacks came into fashion, but which since I saw an old lady in her 80s over-take me more than 20 years ago using her trolly I have taken a page out of the old girl's book and done likewise. As luck would have it I was the first arrival there and so I got to stay in the better of two rooms, and the one containing a fire place. Not that I needed to use it on my day of arrival: arriving as I did in glorious sunny weather. But the next day as I departed rather late in the day at 9:30 in mists and rain it would be a challenge with my newish map of this not so frequently visited area to achieve my objective: being turned back in atrocious weather when I had approached the isolated peak of Gulvain from more northerly glens on my last visit. And now I had failed to research the approach from this bothy properly since the undulations up and down, up and down, in my north easterly approach appeared to be taking forever, to the extent that my ascent of the last summit, Gulvain's (Gaor Bheinn= mountain of the hunting dogs or windy mountain my preferred name) premier summit, was not achieved before 6 pm: a consequence of rain and mists making progress with map and compass time-consuming. But fortunately I had researched the route sufficiently well to know there was an alternative route thereafter, which didn't involve retracing my earlier route from its summit, by heading off on an alternative path southwards. This route had the benefit of being a clearly defined path but with the disadvantage of being further than my route of ascent, unless some way down its way I should decide to take a short-cut through forest with no known route through it?
So I continued as my luncheon of cheese, tomato, cucumber and onion sandwhiches were long since digested, and I was now subsisting on a giant bar of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut Chocolate munching it on the rainy hoof. Though no longer accompanied by so much mist. Accordingly as my track gave way to a road I was by 9 pm, as the light began to fail, at the point of decision-making: cut through the forest of perhaps as little as 1 1/2 miles, whilst I still had a compass bearing I could follow, or opt to slogg it out several more miles to the main Fort William to Mallaig Road, thence the odd mile westerwards along its length, thence a further say 2 miles, the length of the bothy road for motorised vehicles? What to do, what to do, what to do??? Well I decided to take the short-cut and by scaling the fence that enclosed the forest with no clear-cut path through it, I had the distinct feeling this was more like an ancient forest, by virtue of little if any attention having been given to husbandry: fallen trees remaining where they fell, oft times rotted pretty much throughout their trunks, others not so rotten, but from the outset conscious of the dangers such a situation posed: now my second day pretty much on my own, with nightfal encroaching rapidly, one slip and who is going to know anything about it? Only my belongings in the bothy, not 2 miles distant away? Looking back on it now all 5 1/3 years later I have to think I was running on an extraordinarly high octane of andrenalin. Miraculously, 3 hours later I emerged from the forest on its western flank not 100 yards away from my bothy. Entering it maybe around 12:30 to 01:00 am, no longer the sole inhabitant, a forbidden car in the road before it, and in its other room two couples aparently unrelated, as I was to discover later that morning when I too had slept.
Once more good fortune befell my lot, the two couples had apparently arrived at different times: the couple in the car visitors from abroad,maybe Latvia, the other couple from Glasgow and well versed in the business of staying at bothies. Together they gave me much in terms of candles they no longer required, toilet tissue rolls, and odd bits of food they no longer needed. Added to which outside the bothy in an adjacent enclosure was an ample supply of timber, left over from repairs to the bothy, provided with saw to be able easily to prepare kindling for the fire place. After my day spent the day before in incessent mist and rain there was nothing in my dress that hadn't taken a drenching. A most welcome way for me to rest and recover my strength to continue my adventures the following day, once so rested drying everything out including my walking boots and socks, etc. 2019 5 27 then I left this perfect bothy by the same road whence I had arrived on the 24th, and before walking an hour I came upon the same tracter-driver who had been working on a new section of road works, when after chating a wee while he decided he could interrupt his work and take me with him in his car the distance maybe 2-3 miles back to Glen Finnan: in good time for me to get a bus to Fort William, whence I could with good connections return to my base in Pitlochry.
For my next final adventure of this springtime visit with nephew-in-law Dave when we had agreed to attempt two hill summits in the Cairngorms with a camp in the Glen Tilt outback over the long weekend of 31st May - 2nd of June: with a walk after his drive up from Bury in Lancashire, in connection with a day partly spent at his company in Manchester, when we would route march the 8 km fully laden, at least as far as Dave was concerned, carrying most of the heavy camping gear: my carry my own sleeping bag air-bed cooking utensils, minimum clothes and waterproofs for the 3 day trip.
Next day in overcast weather we set out for An Sgarsoch and Carn an Fhidhleir in largely over cast weather walking the 13 km to attain the summit of An Sgarsoch when we decided to leave Carn an Fhidheir for another day and so returned the 13 km whence we came. The next morning Dave was in a somewhat hurry to head off back south as he said we'd get back to the car before heading off back to Pitlochry where we could have a spendid fry up of the classic Scottish breakfast. I have omitted to relate the part of the trip to do with which whiskeys we got to taste but I shall leave it there for now and promise to include some whiskey update in connection with my autumn visit of 2019 when more momentos walks were to be had.
Footnote 25 2 25 my blog first posted 19 12 26, then re-posted here 25 2 5, contains some pics from the later walk I describe in this blog, together with the camp in Glen Tilt, then more of An Sgarsoch, nice to be reminded all these years later!
Is noted on Tik Tok for saying Man grows old before he gets the wisdom of how to enjoy one's life, or words to that effect: which strikes a chord in my old head as I seek to make sense of the last two incumbents of the US White House sitting as I do this am at 6:27 a good few years their senior in my attaining octogenarian status plus 5.
The preamble to recounting my last full year age 79 I last visited Scotland in 2019 in pursuit of my remaining Monro hills: 21 in number when I succeeded in claiming the summits of 7 new peaks plus 1, an old chestnut my wife and I had climbed many times before, Meall Chuaich (hill of the shallow, two handed cup), at 920 metres just to the south of Newtonemore.
The first then involved a 6 hour walk-in to Allt Scheicheachan Bothy, unoccupied my good fortune, to the south of the nearby Beinn Dearg (Red Hill), a popular name for a hill in the Scottish Gaelic tongue, which took me longer than I expected: a modern map of the area would have suggested, but walking as I was on a 1980 version, my walk in inclemment weather with rain and mists, took a wee while longer but nay bother, so I thought safely returned by it, to spend a second night at the same bothy where I could eat another breakfast of my Alpen cereal, the one with no added sugar. With a walk out on my third day, 2019 5 20, in 4 hrs 17 minutes when I could take a train back to Pitlochry for more comfortable accommodation at its Back Packers Hotel on the High Street.
My next adventure saw me departing on my senior's train ticket, now available also to tourists from abroad, first to Fort William, and then to Glen Finnan, over the famous viaduct completed by Sir Robert McAlpine in 1901, standing more than 30 metres in height. It was a ground breaking achievment using concrete to build it: perhaps on my outward journey on the occasion I also travelled there by the steam locamotive which operates between Fort William and Mallaig in the summer months (?) for my journey of 24th May.
My walk from the station took me 3 hours to Glean Dubh Lighe Bothy pulling my shopping trolly with my sturdy Jaguar VII rucksack I bought in the 1980s: as hip-loading 60 litre capacity sacks came into fashion, but which since I saw an old lady in her 80s over-take me more than 20 years ago using her trolly I have taken a page out of the old girl's book and done likewise. As luck would have it I was the first arrival there and so I got to stay in the better of two rooms, and the one containing a fire place. Not that I needed to use it on my day of arrival: arriving as I did in glorious sunny weather. But the next day as I departed rather late in the day at 9:30 in mists and rain it would be a challenge with my newish map of this not so frequently visited area to achieve my objective: being turned back in atrocious weather when I had approached the isolated peak of Gulvain from more northerly glens on my last visit. And now I had failed to research the approach from this bothy properly since the undulations up and down, up and down, in my north easterly approach appeared to be taking forever, to the extent that my ascent of the last summit, Gulvain's (Gaor Bheinn= mountain of the hunting dogs or windy mountain my preferred name) premier summit, was not achieved before 6 pm: a consequence of rain and mists making progress with map and compass time-consuming. But fortunately I had researched the route sufficiently well to know there was an alternative route thereafter, which didn't involve retracing my earlier route from its summit, by heading off on an alternative path southwards. This route had the benefit of being a clearly defined path but with the disadvantage of being further than my route of ascent, unless some way down its way I should decide to take a short-cut through forest with no known route through it?
So I continued as my luncheon of cheese, tomato, cucumber and onion sandwhiches were long since digested, and I was now subsisting on a giant bar of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut Chocolate munching it on the rainy hoof. Though no longer accompanied by so much mist. Accordingly as my track gave way to a road I was by 9 pm, as the light began to fail, at the point of decision-making: cut through the forest of perhaps as little as 1 1/2 miles, whilst I still had a compass bearing I could follow, or opt to slogg it out several more miles to the main Fort William to Mallaig Road, thence the odd mile westerwards along its length, thence a further say 2 miles, the length of the bothy road for motorised vehicles? What to do, what to do, what to do??? Well I decided to take the short-cut and by scaling the fence that enclosed the forest with no clear-cut path through it, I had the distinct feeling this was more like an ancient forest, by virtue of little if any attention having been given to husbandry: fallen trees remaining where they fell, oft times rotted pretty much throughout their trunks, others not so rotten, but from the outset conscious of the dangers such a situation posed: now my second day pretty much on my own, with nightfal encroaching rapidly, one slip and who is going to know anything about it? Only my belongings in the bothy, not 2 miles distant away? Looking back on it now all 5 1/3 years later I have to think I was running on an extraordinarly high octane of andrenalin. Miraculously, 3 hours later I emerged from the forest on its western flank not 100 yards away from my bothy. Entering it maybe around 12:30 to 01:00 am, no longer the sole inhabitant, a forbidden car in the road before it, and in its other room two couples aparently unrelated, as I was to discover later that morning when I too had slept.
Once more good fortune befell my lot, the two couples had apparently arrived at different times: the couple in the car visitors from abroad,maybe Latvia, the other couple from Glasgow and well versed in the business of staying at bothies. Together they gave me much in terms of candles they no longer required, toilet tissue rolls, and odd bits of food they no longer needed. Added to which outside the bothy in an adjacent enclosure was an ample supply of timber, left over from repairs to the bothy, provided with saw to be able easily to prepare kindling for the fire place. After my day spent the day before in incessent mist and rain there was nothing in my dress that hadn't taken a drenching. A most welcome way for me to rest and recover my strength to continue my adventures the following day, once so rested drying everything out including my walking boots and socks, etc. 2019 5 27 then I left this perfect bothy by the same road whence I had arrived on the 24th, and before walking an hour I came upon the same tracter-driver who had been working on a new section of road works, when after chating a wee while he decided he could interrupt his work and take me with him in his car the distance maybe 2-3 miles back to Glen Finnan: in good time for me to get a bus to Fort William, whence I could with good connections return to my base in Pitlochry.
For my next final adventure of this springtime visit with nephew-in-law Dave when we had agreed to attempt two hill summits in the Cairngorms with a camp in the Glen Tilt outback over the long weekend of 31st May - 2nd of June: with a walk after his drive up from Bury in Lancashire, in connection with a day partly spent at his company in Manchester, when we would route march the 8 km fully laden, at least as far as Dave was concerned, carrying most of the heavy camping gear: my carry my own sleeping bag air-bed cooking utensils, minimum clothes and waterproofs for the 3 day trip.
Next day in overcast weather we set out for An Sgarsoch and Carn an Fhidhleir in largely over cast weather walking the 13 km to attain the summit of An Sgarsoch when we decided to leave Carn an Fhidheir for another day and so returned the 13 km whence we came. The next morning Dave was in a somewhat hurry to head off back south as he said we'd get back to the car before heading off back to Pitlochry where we could have a spendid fry up of the classic Scottish breakfast. I have omitted to relate the part of the trip to do with which whiskeys we got to taste but I shall leave it there for now and promise to include some whiskey update in connection with my autumn visit of 2019 when more momentos walks were to be had.
Footnote 25 2 25 my blog first posted 19 12 26, then re-posted here 25 2 5, contains some pics from the later walk I describe in this blog, together with the camp in Glen Tilt, then more of An Sgarsoch, nice to be reminded all these years later!
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