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I spent a brilliant Glencoe weekend in the company of Mountain Coward (Carol) and Mountain Star (Alan). Carol can fill you in on the route/s when she’s back online. I’m just filling you in on my highlights.
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- Carol's first ever photo taken with a digital camera
On Saturday Carol and I parked up at Kinlochleven and set off on our walk. Carol was starting to check her watch, completely focused on finishing the route before it got dark. She was already having to try out her brand spanking new micro spikes (very nice
) on the icy path upwards, and had no intention of doing the same on the way back down in the dark. I on the other hand, was still recovering from my way too busy week at work, and was just glad to be outdoors. All I was thinking about was getting some fresh air to help clear my cold, and not having to think about anything at all, especially not what time it was. ‘I’ll just shorten my walk and let you get on, Carol. I’ll meet you at the dam.’
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- The dam
The decision we took to separate so both of us could get what we wanted out of the walk worked out perfectly. Within the first few minutes of sitting down on my own to take in and enjoy the views, I spied a golden eagle in the sky. It was flying left to right too, which is supposed to be a good omen
.
As we walked back together, Kinlochleven came into view, and I marvelled at the sight of so many smoking chimneys on the skyline. I remember when all of the houses in the villages in the area where I grew up had coal fires.
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- Smoking chimney
Back at the hostel, Carol and I shared the news about our respective walks with Alan. ‘I was too hot when I was walking up the Corbett in the snow’ Carol said, ‘so I took off my top and just walked in my bra’. Alan blushed
...with excitement at the prospect of a repeat performance when he went walking with her as planned on Sunday
. It turned out that Alan actually comes from a village not far from Brynteg, near Wrexham, where my Welsh mum is from. He started teasing me about the Wales versus Scotland rugby match that was being played that day.
Later in the evening the Clachaig Inn was full to the brim with walkers, real ale drinkers, and Conga-loving locals. It was the anniversary of the Glencoe massacre and the band was belting out tunes-a-plenty, everything from Loch Lomond and Caledonia to Donald where’s your troosers? and Hoots mon, there’s a moose loose aboot this hoose. Of course there was one very drunk kilted man who had a tendency to pull out his dagger (what’s the proper name for it again? In Glasgow we’d just call it a chib
) and stab the air above his head in appreciation of the music. His burly, tattooed mate was wearing a Scotland rugby shirt. ‘Why don’t you go and tease him about the match, Alan?’ I suggested. ‘No way!’ he said, ‘Not unless you go with me
.’
Carol and I were completely baffled by the young lad and lass that were sat next to us on the bench in the bar. We had assumed that they were a couple, but the young lass was spending the entire evening fluttering her eyelashes at some other lad directly opposite who, every now and again, would saunter over, place his hand on her thigh, and whisper something in her ear or joke with her. Carol and I were so obviously preoccupied with the shenanigans, the comings and goings, that we even drew it to poor Alan’s attention and canvassed his opinion on the matter.
‘Well, the ones that are flirting with each other can’t be dating yet’ Carol said, ‘they are still infatuated with each other.’
‘If the lad sat next to her is her boyfriend then he is completely oblivious to what’s going on’ Alan mused.
‘That’s no way to treat a lassie anyway’ I moaned, ‘he can’t just walk over and touch her thigh in between supping pints all night...he could at least buy her a Bacardi Breezer and a packet of crisps...be more attentive.’
We never got to find out who her boyfriend actually was at the end of the night. The three of them were all part of the same crowd who left the pub together
.
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- Misty Sunday morning Pap of Glencoe
At the bus stop on Sunday morning, I wasn’t at all surprised to see one of my mates beer wagon (rugby club mini bus) drive past me. I already knew that he and his team mates were going to be in the vicinity for their annual jolly
the same weekend. I was very surprised however, to see that the vehicle was being driven responsibly on the correct side of the road. ‘At least one of them is still sober enough to drive.’ I received a text from my mate a few minutes later to let me know that he had actually seen me, and they were parked up at the Kings house if I wanted to join them. I declined, but I do think it was probably one of the most interesting offers a girl can get on Valentine’s Day
...a mobile pub crawl all the way from Glencoe to Glasgow via the Kings house and the Drovers with a rugby team!
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- Homeward bound
As I was sitting on the bus home, I overheard two young lads in the seats behind me.
‘She’s not talking to me because I didn’t buy her a card.’
‘What? You didn’t buy her a card?’
‘I sent her flowers, a teddy bear and a balloon, but I didn’t send her a card.’
‘Eh?’
‘I phoned her this morning and she said she wasn’t happy that I didn’t buy her a card. I told her that I had sent a note with the flowers, but she said it wasn’t the same thing.’
[Friend laughs].
‘Yeah, she asked me to buy her a card on the way home.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘Oh man, I erm...well
...I was just joking with her...I laughed and said she was never happy and... she burst out crying
.’
A few words of wisdom in the form of Pat Benatar’s 80s pop tune sprang to mind... Oooooh oooooh love is a battlefield
.
