New Years Eve Eve.

Last year we (Tash, Chris and a few of Chris' relatives) were up around Loch Ness doing stuff. This year we thought we would head up to North Wales and do a two or three day jaunt on Calder Idris or something of the ilk. Just after Christmas Tash and Chris popped over and they (Chris especially) were looking grim. So we decided to bin the big walk but had plans to try a smaller hill for fun. We settled on Pen Y Fan, the highest hill in southern Wales. Neither Chris or myself had made it up, I'd almost got to the top with a Duke Of Edinburgh's group from uni but we (the supervisors) decided it was too windy to push right to the summit so we stacked early.
As it was, Chris was still too ill to join us so Tash, myself and her dad started off at 7 (which, given my love for mornings, is remarkable in itself), drove to the hill and walked up, starting boots wet at just gone 9.
It was cold and we were in cloud almost from the get go with about 50 m visibility, people heading down told us that the top was clagged in and frozen. I knew we were in an high pressure situation and was hoping that the inversion (where the temperature increases, the air dries out radically and the cloud is capped) would have been below the summit but ahh well. One fell runner passed us (still don't understand them) and many, many people, often with dogs.

It was cold enough that the dogs had ice eyebrows and my eyelashes froze together. We stopped for a break at the subsidiary top then carried on to the summit, at which point, things changed.
Just as we got to the summit the inversion dropped to our level, the temperature started to increase, the visibility increased to about 60 km and the cloud cleared. I'd never managed to be above the clouds like this before and the beauty was just sodding jaw dropping!

Apart from a "little" navigational mistake involving two paths and 20 minutes extra walking we made it down comfortably although there were SOOOO many people on the hill. Seriously, there must have been a couple of hundred people on the paths that day. Chris would have absolutely hated that part of the walk.
Next day being NYE I drove up to Tash and Chris', about 320 miles including about 1.5 or 2 hours stationary in a traffic jam on the M6. They were both still ill so I saw in the New Year with the cats and a few beers. Shame I couldn't make it down to London when Tris called, that would have been epic! I think next year I'll hit a city/biggish town for the parties. Might be working for Christmas, but if I am I'm going to bounce over to Inverness for Hogmany. Might be elsewhere, but we'll see what happens, neh?
So now I'm back home, with at least one of the viruses I've been exposed to making life less than pleasant at the moment and my bank still being a general arse and it's back to work tomorrow on an early shift. Still need to sort out a new bed (falling onto the bed while drunk shouldn't lead to a collapse of such disastrous proportions!) and still some unpacking to do but it's good to be home. And the fish survived, which is nice.

A big old week.

A few weeks ago a friend suggested that we climb a hill for charity. A simple enough proposition, but this friend has an habit of suggesting fairly large hills.
So, for the Trail100/WaterAid challenge we were to climb An Teallach.
The walk in was nice, 3 km along and about 800 ft up, after that it got a bit vertical. Once we got to the ridge things got better, although we skipped a couple of tops and a major bit of grade 3 scrambling (which is a rope away from a V Diff climb) before gaining the summit of Skurr Fiona (middle peak in this image). At the summit it was calm, warm and sunny. By this point I'd been sun burnt but didn't realise it yet.
From there we went down then back up to Bedean a' Ghlas Thuill and the cloud came in.
One peak at 1060 m, one at 1062 (3484 ft), from about 50 ft start.
So far so good. Unfortunately for the rest of the group, the vast majority of walks I've done of late have been winter walks and so, when I went through my flat grabbing my kit, I grabbed my normal kit, including liners and my normal mountain walking socks. Note to self, when walking in summer, DO NOT WEAR WINTER SOCKS!!!!!
By the time we'd reached the major down hill I was suffering from self inflicted injuries on my feet, to whit, soggy socks and bad feet. Hurt lots. Also ran out of water - three and a half litres just not enough for hot days on big hills. I promise not to complain so much next time.
We had to change camp site that night - midges in Scotland are a bad thing and our first site was a touch close to the water. So close that we had to spend an hour and a half lighting a fire to get enough smoke to drive off the evil little bastards. We could have got it lit sooner but we were using flint and steel, and shaved sticks. When we got the fire going there was a definate "Ha, we are men, we make fire!" moment. I was using a head net as well, they look stupid but damn they work.
Didn't manage to avoid midges completely though, mainly on my feet where I was letting my soles dry out...Sorry about the ugly feet. Bugger did they itch! Best thing I've found for them was Boots Bite and Sting Relief cream. Or not uncovering skin to get bitten. Midges are a sod, the only good things about them are they are good for bats and other animals.

Next day, legs ached, feet itched, sunburn was a real bugger but we had survived An Teallach. Fantastic. We took the west coast route back and saw soooooo many amazing hills.

The rest of this last week, well, my parents have been up visiting. We went to see Culloden, which was really good, they've got a new centre there about the battle that's better than I was expecting. In addition mum and dad wanted to get to the top of Cairn Gorm. Last time they were up we took the funicular railway up but if you do that you can't go all the way to the summit; the only way to get to the top is to walk all the way up from the car park.
Now, my dad's 63, and used to be in the mountain rescue in the air force when he was much younger; my mum's 61 and didn't used to do much exercise, although she's been going to the gym three times a week for the last 7 months. This would be the biggest thing dad had done for a long time, and the biggest thing I think my mum had ever done.Mum's wearing a dear-stalker she'd bought in Braemar and dad is in a flat cap. They're both wearing jackets I recommended to them and I'd fitted mum out in wind proof gloves and neck gaiter, as well as Gore-tex gaiters. Which was a vast improvement on what she was planning on wearing up a hill that tops out at 1245 m, 4081 ft (trousers tucked into socks..).
Weather was good for most of the route up, until we got to the Ptarmigan restaurant, from where you head up to the summit. The wind picked up, the rain (and a bit of sleet/wet snow) started and the cloud came down. We made it up, and here's the proof. Mum and dad approaching the summit of the Cairn Gorm (I'm leaning on the summit cairn to get out of the wind).
Most people think that cairns (piles of rocks) are just to mark summits or just to look nice. Nah. When you're at the top and need a route in poor visibility you can use your compass and map, your GPS or you can follow the handily placed line of stone markers, visible in all but the very worst weather. Live saver!
We had a meal in the Ptarmigan and caught the train back down, much easier than walking!

So there we have it, six days, three Munros, even more tops, sun burn, midge bites, sore legs and feet, many miles covered and money raised for charity, and two very happy parents.
Not a bad week, all in.

Mountains, midges and muscles

This weekend I've been out with Tasha, Chris and some friends of theirs from their work.

We went to Glen Coe camping (me in my new wonderful tent - oh it's nice!!!). The idea was that we'd do a peak on Saturday with all of us and another couple that would meet us at the start of the walk, then on Sunday Tasha, Chris and myself might get another peak in. We met up in the car park, and I discovered a new part of Scotland. The Midges, (they deserve the capitol M). We were next to a river, which was bad enough but when the sun was heading down the sky filled with them. The little bastards were biting every bit of exposed skin available. Out came the Deet 50, with a warning to the others not to get it on synthetic materials, but it was the barbecue that drove them off until morning.
The hill we were planning on Saturday was Buachaille Etive Mor, or as Nicola put it as Tasha and her drove past it on the way in, "Oh My F***ing God!" Starts at 280 M and ends at 1022 M, with most of the ascent 2 1/2 KM. Or to put it another way, 920 ft to 3350 ft in a mile and a half. As the peak is over 3000 ft, it's a Munro. There's another three Munro tops on the peak, the plan was to do all of them and follow the route out but after the second one with the wind blowing strong as hell, the cloud below us and the rock wet and slick, we had to recalculate. Three of the group hadn't done any hills like this and had no ridge time. The ridge to the second peak was quite broad, and from Stob An Doire (second one) to Stob Coire Altruim it looked about the same.
It wasn't.
The ridge went from ten foot wide and gentle to about two foot wide and nasty looking. So we did the only thing we could in the circumstances. We binned it. Cue a back track to the saddle and a descent via scree, wet stones, wet grass and seating glissade (sitting on the wet grass and sliding down the hill - it was good enough for Shackleton!). By the time we got back to the cars my legs were sore as hell. Nicola and the other couple (whose names I can't spell I'm afraid, nice guys though) headed back to Glasgow, while Chris, Tasha and myself headed into Fort William for dinner. Our kit was sodden and we were all damaged in some way or other.
And then came the next morning. Tasha and Chris' knees were buggered, as were my thigh muscles, so we scrapped the idea of doing a hill and dispersed, planning another hill for the coming weekend. We did also find what could be the one of best pubs in the world, the Clachaig Inn. To say that it's a climbers pub is a bit of an understatement. Think I'll be back there at some point.
I think some of the sodding midges hitched a lift home with me, though, I've been itching like a bastard all day (from the midges! Nothing else).