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A day of hope, disaster, salvation and success.
I set off from Morvich just after 0700 with a spring in my step. I had lucked out with the weather this weekend, and been gifted two days in Kintail with clear tops and amazing views. Today's walk was the bigger of the two - Beinn Fhada and then A'Ghlas-bheinn, with the significant height dip between them. I expected it to be tough but rewarding, and had allowed myself plenty of daylight in case my early-season legs slowed me down.
And what a morning it was. Sunny, wind-less, midge-less and a great stalkers path easing me up into Gleann Choinneachain. All smiles and positivity and feelings of self-worth, I reached the junction where the path to Beinn Fhada heads south and sat down for my first snack of the day...
Rucksack open. Why was my jacket on top? I always put my food bag in last. Dig deeper. No food. Panic. I had somehow left my food bag in the van and had nothing to eat, no snacks, nothing. My food was nearly 5km and 450m ascent behind me. My plan for the day imploded as I sat cursing my stupidity. There was no way I was going to manage my planned route without fuel and to attempt it, walking alone, would be reckless.
I couldn't believe I had made such a basic mistake. Like a lot of hill-walkers I am a pedantic planner, to the point where my family find it hilariously weird. For example, before leaving home I always lay out all my gear on the floor in the shape of a human to make sure I've got everything, even the gloves and poles.. To forget my food? - mortifying.
Amid much self-pity I decided to continue up Beinn Fhada and salvage something of the day before the long walk out and drive home to Aberdeenshire. I would take it easy, I had plenty of water. So I continued on - but now my head was in a very different place. It was full of images of the inside of my lunch bag. Two J.G Ross crushed wheat rolls full of ham and cheese and pickle, salted nuts, banana, mars bars. I could picture every morsel, and when I did I felt empty with hunger.
On upwards through Coire an Sgairne and onto the plateau. Now I was running out of energy and the last climb to the summit was a struggle. I could feel myself close to hitting some physical limit and stopping altogether. Cyclists call it 'bonking' when they haven't eaten enough and can't ride on, but I've never heard that term in hill-walking
After a good rest at the top I started to re-trace my steps across the plateau. And coming up the path to meet me was a couple with a dog on a long lead. I met the dog first. He was wearing one of those jacket/harness garments with pockets on the side to carry his own food. I momentarily considered how to barter for food with a dog - '3 pats on the head for a Bonio?' but by then I had met his lovely owners. And in the course of chatting about the day and our respective routes I told them that my original plans had changed, and why. Without a moments hesitation they pulled a Mars Bar and a Snickers from their packs and insisted I take them. Embarrassed but super grateful I continued on, wolfing the Snickers as soon as I was a polite distance away. This wasn't enough food to continue on my original walk, but it was just what I needed to enjoy the rest of my descent. My mood lifted as I paced back down the long descent back into Coire an Sgairne.
And then coming down the steep descent into the lower corrie I came upon 4 more walkers. One of those meetings on the hill where 2 groups have stopped to chat, and I arrived mid-chat. One group were out for a walk up the glen and had ascended as far as they were going that day. They were having lunch in the sun next to the Allt Coire an Sgairne before heading down again. The other 2 were on a big route, having already climbed A'Ghlas-bheinn, now heading up Beinn Fhada and then descending via the Sgùrr a' Choire Ghairbh ridge. Once again I explained my day in the course of the chat, and once again before I had stopped talking people were reaching in their packs to offer me food. One ham and cheese sandwich and a Nature Valley bar later I bid my grovelingly grateful farewells and continued on.
At no point did I ask anyone for food. I am a firm believer that you need to be self-sufficient in the hills, and that scrounging food that someone else has carried up a mountain for themselves is a no-go unless you are in real trouble, which I was not. But these people were so generous when they heard about my truncated day that I got over my embarrassment and gratefully accepted once more. Now I started to dream again. I had the makings of a light lunch and perhaps I could revert to my original plan!
And that is how it worked out. I climbed A'Ghlas-bheinn on the Nature Valley bar and half the sandwich. I felt great. At the top I sat in the sun, ate the rest of the sandwich, and pondered. Mostly I pondered that there is no better food on earth than a white bread sandwich with plenty of butter, ham and mature chedder. But I also reflected on the kindness of strangers who had made my day possible, and how accepting their generosity had felt awkward but also connecting. I decided to write up my experience.
Its a long and tiring route, but in the end I had a great walk on a perfect day. It was entirely thanks to people I had never met before and likely never will again. The Mars Bar & Snickers couple "we have loads of them, honestly", who followed me around the same route all day. The sandwich man "really, I'm stuffed already" even though he was obviously half way through his lunch. And the Nature Valley guy "its my just-in-case bar, please take it". To each of you a huge thank-you.
Some lessons from the day : 1) Check and re-check your stuff. I have spent hundreds of days in the hills and this was my first major omission. 2) Contrary to the popular view that modern society is self-serving and divided, the vast majority of people are kind and generous when they see a stranger in need. It's great.
