Liathach - young, dumb and dehydrated

[PeteTolmie]

I have been inspired by my dear friend Sploogerdude (Laurie Meddle/Spes/Sloogermin/Splooge/Sponge/Sploogey) to continue writing up old walk reports. Having stumbled upon the first report I wrote for Sgor Gaoith – a monumental disaster of a day – I think it is fitting for my second to be probably the best day I have had on the hills, which took place on Liathach on Thursday 11 July 2014. I am writing this in August 2020 and I don’t particularly care who reads my reports - they are purely an opportunity for my friends and I to laugh at ourselves and fuel a sense of nostalgia. I do find it quite cathartic, as I move into adulthood, to write about the misadventures of our collective youth. Not that we act any differently now we are in our late twenties, however, but obviously life now gets in the way. To me, the summers I came home to the Highlands felt like those American teen films from the 80s and 90s. All my friends lived so close to each other, we had sh*tty jobs and we played almost every day. I’m undoubtedly looking back with rose-tinted glasses and definitely neglecting all the physical pain and mental anguish that we suffered as a result, but f*ck it he says.

Sploogermin, Frazekay and I had recently returned from a life changing two weeks backpacking in Croatia. If Croatia had taught us anything, it’s that the best stories come from doing stupid sh*t that we would regret. Summer 2014 was the epitome of such. I was barely employed, having just finished my second year of university and working circa 16 hours a week in my local Spar. This was in stark contrast to Spes working circa 100 hour weeks as a chef and CrazyFraze on the night shift in Tesco. The hills of Summer 2014 were actually a series of picking up Fraze from nightshift before the hill and then racing back to get Laurie to work the dinner shift at the hotel. Unfortunately for Fraze, however, to do a hill usually meant coming straight off nightshift and then going straight into work again without sleep. But what is life without regret? The glory days, man.

The weather on Thursday 11 July was probably the best I have ever experienced in Scotland. I remember the date so clearly in part due to just how nice a day it was, and also in part due to Instagram now serving as a diary. I remember pulling up in my wee Clio outside the Meddle household in Dingwall to find Splooge sitting on a bench, with his eyes closed basking in the morning rays. Today was going to be a good day. We then swung by Tesco to pick up a surprisingly enthusiastic Fraze – most likely due to the amount of ProPlus that had been consumed. We then set off for Liathach. Young, dumb and without a map. We only had a big stinking copy of Cameron MacNeish’s Munro book to guide us. A recurring theme of probably my first 30 Munros was failing to start at the correct point (most likely due to the lack of a map and lack of a smart phone). Liathach was no exception. For some unknown reason, we parked at the carpark with a Stag (maybe the Beinn Eighe carpark??) about a few km east of the layby recommended by Walkhighlands and set off cross country. By the time we had actually reached the of the hill, it was circa 9am and we were already stripping off. My fake Croatia top, purchased for 5 bucks in Split by the way, was ditched for the classic taps-aff approach that has come to be my norm. We were melting.

Once you are actually on the hill, however, Liathach’s ascent is pretty straightforward. By straightforward I definitely do not mean easy – having recently returned to the hill in June 2020 I don’t actually recall any of my other 88 Munros to date being such a vertical burn on ye olde leggies. You literally just go straight up. Once we had struggled by to the top of Stuc a’Choire Dugh Bhig, the first peak of the traverse, Splooge gave our friend Breon a quick phonecall at work to see how he was doing. For some unknown reason, that was a phase of his for a while. Probably just because Breon was suffering a knew injury and he wanted to wind him up, but who knows.

We then walked up to the first Munro, Spidean a’Choire Leith. The sun was absolutely beating. By the time we reached the first summit, we had completely run out of water. Absolutely zero between us. I was completely prepared for bad weather – bad weather being wind and rain. I was completely underprepared for the amount of perspiration I would endure. There was not a cloud in the sky and not a bit of wind. The only thing that saved us was Fraze having a wee carton of Lidl apple juice to share between us. With another 4 hours of walking to go, this was gold dust. It didn’t actually help that, having returned form Croatia with a taste for jalapeno tabasco, the bagels I had brought with me were clarted in the stuff. F*nny

The next section of Liathach was the first time any of us had experienced proper exposure on the hills. It was absolutely terrifying. Thousand foot drops on either side. The adrenaline was pumping. Having bopped over part of the pinnacles, we sh*t it and decided to take the sketchy grass path around. I have now vowed to myself to never do that again – the path was severely worn in places, and still is, and it was 100% scarier than going up and over (which we did in June 2020). As we traversed along the crest, however, one of the coolest things I have ever experienced occurred. An RAF jet flew between the two Munros and I cannot describe to you how loud and terrifying the noise was. We assumed it was thunder as the hill literally shook beneath us. In all honesty, I now don’t remember the rest of the hill after that. The traverse up to the second Munro is pretty straightforward going in good visibility. I probably don’t remember much due to the 30 degree heat and severe dehydration I was suffering. After around 7 hours, we returned onto the road to Torridon. Due to us having only one car between us, and the fact that we parked in the wrong place at the start of the hill, we had a long, long walk ahead of us. Fraser was on death’s door having ran out of ProPlus and water. A dead man walking, looking forward to go going straight to nightshift. Or should I say, a dead man limping - he was wearing new walking trainers for the first-time and the result was that the full soles of his feet had now become blisters. I would have felt sympathy at the time if it wasn’t for the fact I was miserable. Not miserable from the day out, however, but only miserable from the amount of attractive girls that were driving past us. I’m not sure if it was a mirage or some sort of babe convention happening in Torridon at the time, but still to this day I can see the girls in the cars looking at us in disgust as we dragged ourselves at 1mph along the road. Once we returned to the car we set off home in silence. Both Spes and Fraze immediately fell asleep (as both then had to go to work). I was goosed, man, and without them to keep me occupied I briefly fell asleep at the wheel on the straight just after Achnasheen. I think it was less than a second and it scared the sh*t out of me. I then stopped for the best tasting Sprite at Uisdean’s burger van in Garve and we sat reflecting on how dumb we were.

I look back now, six years later, and would still regard this as the best day I have had on the hills. My report probably hasn’t sold it very well. We were overprepared for bad weather and underprepared for good weather. I had a full rucksack of waterproofs, terrified of the weather turning, but failed to consider actually running out of water. I think it taught me a lot, probably not, but now when I think of Liathach the struggle is not what I remember. I remember being 20 years old and climbing the best hill in Scotland in 30 degrees, without clouds, without wind and having my mind absolutely blown by how beautiful Scotland is.

[rockhopper]

Ahh, the experience of youth - enjoyed that says he chuckling away to himself
I know what you mean about the bypass paths. The fog was well down when I was up there - that lack of visibility and the (not forecast) rain made me decide against going over the tops of the pinnacles and take the bypass paths. Exposed in places but I found them relatively OK. I did have one advantage over you though.....I couldn't see anything below me beyond the first few metres - cheers

[Alteknacker]

A great read! I had to smile at the dehydration aspect - it's happened to me multiple times - you'd think I'd have learned by now. I once came off the Cuillin Ridge after just such a cooking day, having drunk 4 litres of water on the way without any emerging from the other end, and duly drunk a further 8 litres at streams on the way down!!

All I'd say is: it ain't just youth that does mad things. I'm well beyond my 3 score, and still find myself doing daft things when I really should know better.