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Originally, this report wasn’t going to see the light of day.
However, hindsight and time have reminded me that other forays into the hills have been described on a warts-and-all basis. So, …
My excuse for the day’s debacle (and temporary absence from WH) was this was the first time I’d been on a hill since bounding up An Teallach last August. In between, life has been interesting. That’s why this report has more to do with catharsis and less to do with climbing a hill.
The week after joining Keith S to mark his Compleation, we put our house on the market. Nine months later, a few days before struggling and thrutching my way up Meall Lighiche, we finally moved into a house we bought.
Between the two we sold and bought within a week. Our buyer lost their sale, replaced it with a nervous chain and then Truss and Kwarteng wrote their bestseller
Budgets and Growth for Dummies. Mortgages disappeared, chains got twitchy and both estate agents and solicitors went silent. Our seller then did the dirty by selling to someone else behind everyone’s back. Left in the lurch, we took the moral high ground, stuck with our buyer and struggled to find somewhere to rent, securing a tenancy barely a fortnight before our buyer’s agreed entry date. Timing being everything, we do not recommend moving house the week before Christmas. With possessions in store, we spent the next few weeks frantically house-hunting. Kirsty & Phil, where were you? Hope and a house appeared in February and we agreed a purchase. So, our sellers went on a cruise, for a month!
At the beginning of May we were finally reunited with a mountain of boxes and furniture that wouldn’t fit up the stairs. Joy!
So, from our new base twenty minutes closer, Meall Lighiche was going to rekindle my sanity.
- Meall Lighiche - after leaving the A82
But wow, was I rusty, in every possible sense.
The previously slick, snatched breakfast took ages. Despite packing the night before, I realised things were missing. All that safety gear, that normally stays in the bag, was dispersed. Who marked up the boxes? Me? Oh well. I’d forgotten to buy an energy drink. Where were the peanuts? The Jelly babies are how old? I was bumbling around like an idiot having simply lost the habit. And then there were all the new traffic jams and bottlenecks to discover and dodge.
And I’d forgotten how frustrating the A82 can be, especially is you’ve left it late. Then the final insult was a stretch of resurfacing roadworks right at the bend with the parking space I’d planned to use by Gleann Leac na Muidhe. That, and all the adjacent laybys were full of contractors’ vehicles.
But I was there. Boots on, bag out and away.
Hang on, not so quickly.
Where’s the map? Not to worry, the weather’s good and I’ve got the GPS. Despite a set of new batteries the night before, it’s dead. And the OS app on my phone won’t connect.
Wing it lad. For goodness sake just get walking.
Well, I tried.
- Looking back down Gleann Leac na Muidhe and across to Aonach Eagach - thinking I'd never get there
I already knew that being gym-fit was nothing like being hill-fit, and the next three and a half hours proved it.
The route requires little description. Along the glen, skirt the cottages, cross the burn at the bend and find a way up the slopes above.
- Meall Lighiche - almost touching distance from Creag Bhan - but did I have the strength to reach out?
Embarrassed at being an hour beyond the book time I staggered along the final few hundred metres to the top and slumped. I watched the bristle of a lone walker powering up the ridge and felt even worse.
I’d told the other half that I might just include the Munro of Sgor na h Ulaidh on the return. Who on earth was I kidding? I let the lone walker arrive, refresh and depart, while feigning calm and chill.
“Yes, looks good doesn’t it,” he said as he set off to take the Munro in his stride.
“You’ve got youth on your side,” I said, waving him off and hoping he wouldn’t pass me on the walk out.
- Wisps of cloud drift across Bidean nam Bian - another day maybe for a return visit
A few minutes later I left, trailing in his wake, but without the benefit of slipstream or second wind.
- Sgor na h Ulaidh from Creag Bhan - before dropping down with the fence posts
And so, my return to the hills was completed. Once on the track in the glen, muscle memory kept my legs going as I started to think about a getting a Magnum in Tyndrum
Such are the pleasures that can ease the pain.
Now, what’s next?
