Lost: car, camera, bottle+filter. Found: 3 Arran Corbetts
Route: Sannox Horseshoe
Corbetts: Caisteal Abhail, Cìr Mhòr, Goat Fell
Date walked: 22/10/2022
As I normally tend to do, I stopped at a red traffic light. There was one car in front of me, and another behind me. I didn't mind them much, as my head was in the hills already. It had been over three years since I'd last been in Scotland, and I was looking forward to my 5 day attempt on bagging all Arran Corbetts, Graham and minor hilltops, with some wildcamping in between the hiking days. Somewhere in a village along the A76, my anticipation could not be tempered by a red traffic light.
Red turned to orange, orange turned to green, the car in front of me accelerated, as did I and the car behind me. A terrible roaring of an engine woke me up from my daydreaming. Noisy cars annoy me. Their owners tend to be as noisy as their cars. I can't stand it. Not knowing which car was responsable for the roar, I slightly let go of the accelerator, to give the car in front of me some headstart.
The roaring died down, and I was happy to have the car in front of me to blame for the noise. I stepped on the accelerator again but the roaring restarted. Release the throttle, noise died down. Step on the accelerator, noise started. Oooops......
I pulled over as soon as was safe. With my layman's eye I inspected the car and soon came to the laymen's conclusion: nothing to see. I got in again, drove off, but the noise only had gotten worse. I again pulled over, again came to the same layman's conclusion, and therefore decided to phone the Dutch AA. The technician I got to speak to was less of a layman, and after a few questions he decided I had a broken exhaustpipe. I protested. The noise came from the engine, not from the rear end. "And where do you think the exhaustpipe starts sir? At the engine or at the rear end?" Oooops again......
After I'd checked if there were any loose bits, the technician decided it was safe for me to continue driving, but he advised me to look for a garage as soon as possible. It was Sunday afternoon, my ferry to Arran would leave at about 18:00h and arrive an hour later. The original plan was to wildcamp that first night in the forests on the lower slopes of Goatfell.
I opted for the campsite at Glen Rosa though. It would make things easier to get to some garage first thing in the morning. Monday, 06:15 next morning. The alarm went of. Enough time to pack my stuff, have breakfast and get to Angus Lambie motor engineers, the adress of whom was texted to me by the homefront. Yes, you've read that well: it was texted to me, as my only source of connecting with the outside world is a Nokia dumbphone.
As nice a man Angus Lambie is, as packed was his parkingplace and his workshop. He therefore asked me to come back the next day. Dissapointment 1.
Change of plans: spend 1 day in the hills, get back to the garage as early as possible next day, Tuesday, then finish most of the original plans.
I went up Goatfell, followed the ridge across North Goatfell and continued towards a very difficult word for the Maiden's Breast. It rained. I was surrounded by clag. On the way back the clag prevented me from finding the route from North Goatfell towards the saddle, forcing me to make it a lineair there and back walk.
I know there is a difference between the metric system and the imperial system. I'm quite used to recalculating speedlimits and distances measured in miles. A yard is already a different, more difficult thing, and recalculating weights in ounce and oz's is just sheer impossible. But percentages? How can percentages be calculated differently? They can't you say? So how come 40% chance of precipitation in Scotland means 99,9%% in mainland European? And how come the same 40% chance of cloudfree hilltops and sunshine in fact means 0%, nil, nada, zip, zero, noppes?
I got soaked, but more importantly, so did my camera. And while getting soaked for me is no more than uncomfortable, for my camera it proofed deadly. And for the gathered footage on the SD card it turned out to be equally lethal. Dissapointment 2. No footage of this first day in Scotland. I only realised this at my first campspot, down in the woods. From there on my Nokia-zero-pixel was used, which I hope is a valid excuse for the poor quality of the photos.
Tuesdaymorning, 6:15, alarm. Excellent night's sleep, strong breakfast. On my way to the garage again.
Ofcourse Angus hadn't been working all night, so ofcourse the workplace was still stacked with cars. Another friendly request, this time to come back at 14:00h. Disapointment 3. This not being his fault nor mine, I decided to make Tuesday a village day. The heritagemuseum was visited, food was eaten, presents for loved ones were bought, outdoorgear that I don't need was looked at and more food was eaten.
Fed and prepared for disappointment 4 I returned to the garage at 14:00h. Angus didn't disappoint though: he'd start straight away and could pick up the car at 16:00'ish.
At 16:00 Angus presented me to some excellent welding on the exhaustpipe, a replaced oilfilter (which apparantly was very needed) and some friendly pricing. I hope I'll be forgiven if I take the opportunity to make some commercial for Angus Lambie. Very thankful for his help.
But all in all, I had lost 2 days out of my original plans, so adaptation was needed. Back to the drawingboard I came up with crossing Glen Rosa in length, climbing up the saddle, summit Cir Mhor, summit Casteal Abhail, summit Suidhe Fhearghas, wildcamp somewhere at north Sannox, make my way back to Brodick via the Arran Coastal Path.
Wednesday. No clag, no rain predicted, apart from the very high winds. Wednesday was going to be a good day.
In an attempt to get a few more photos of Glen Rosa, I scrambled up a big boulder tht found itself half on land, half in water. Bending forward however caused my waterbottle with filter to slide up it's holster and falling in the Glen Rosa burn. Cursing and stumbling I ran with it, in the direction I just came from, at the speed of the flowing water, using my trekkingpoles in an unsuccesful attempt to retrieve the bottle from the water. After about 100 meters, it was sucked under a submerged boulder. I stood there for about 5 minutes, waiting for the bottle to pop up again, with my trekking poles ready for battle.
I never saw it popping up again....
It is now either in bottle heaven or somewhere polluting the Firth of Clyde.
Having hurt myself considerably, seeing a sun slowly turning orange and setting, I felt a sense of hurry and made no pictures on the way down after the Witch's Step. This was a good decision. My way down was quit laughable as I somehow did not find the predicted "well constructed path" and I found myself cursing my way down the western slopes of Suidhe Fhearghas. A long trod through bog, spungebog, black bog, peatbog, grasbog, mossbog and mudbog. To reach any good campspots from there, I walked the A841 eastwards for a while, turning left at north Sannox and put up camp on the eastside of the north Sannox burn.
Thursday. Rain again. It would proof to continue doing so. The only thing waterproofs really proof is that water will find it's way through anyway. The walk back was beautiful though, firstly following the coastline, later uphill again.
Thursday to friday. I slept at the campsite in Lochranza. From there I spent the friday driving around the westcoast from north to south. I got out of the car many times to take photos of the dramatic and beautiful coastline, the obligatory King's Cave, the pittoresque villages. Fridaynight saw me sleeping in Glen Rosa again and Saturday the ferry brought me back to Ardrossan. Sunday I was back home in the NL.
I am so happy I was finally able to return to Scotland again after 3 long years. Dissapointment 1, 2, 3 and 4 could not stop me from thoroughly enjoying myself and the weather could not prevent me from feeling so weirdly at home in a place I wasn't born, do not live and have no ancesters. I hope my next visit won't take 3 years again.
Red turned to orange, orange turned to green, the car in front of me accelerated, as did I and the car behind me. A terrible roaring of an engine woke me up from my daydreaming. Noisy cars annoy me. Their owners tend to be as noisy as their cars. I can't stand it. Not knowing which car was responsable for the roar, I slightly let go of the accelerator, to give the car in front of me some headstart.
The roaring died down, and I was happy to have the car in front of me to blame for the noise. I stepped on the accelerator again but the roaring restarted. Release the throttle, noise died down. Step on the accelerator, noise started. Oooops......
I pulled over as soon as was safe. With my layman's eye I inspected the car and soon came to the laymen's conclusion: nothing to see. I got in again, drove off, but the noise only had gotten worse. I again pulled over, again came to the same layman's conclusion, and therefore decided to phone the Dutch AA. The technician I got to speak to was less of a layman, and after a few questions he decided I had a broken exhaustpipe. I protested. The noise came from the engine, not from the rear end. "And where do you think the exhaustpipe starts sir? At the engine or at the rear end?" Oooops again......
After I'd checked if there were any loose bits, the technician decided it was safe for me to continue driving, but he advised me to look for a garage as soon as possible. It was Sunday afternoon, my ferry to Arran would leave at about 18:00h and arrive an hour later. The original plan was to wildcamp that first night in the forests on the lower slopes of Goatfell.
I opted for the campsite at Glen Rosa though. It would make things easier to get to some garage first thing in the morning. Monday, 06:15 next morning. The alarm went of. Enough time to pack my stuff, have breakfast and get to Angus Lambie motor engineers, the adress of whom was texted to me by the homefront. Yes, you've read that well: it was texted to me, as my only source of connecting with the outside world is a Nokia dumbphone.
As nice a man Angus Lambie is, as packed was his parkingplace and his workshop. He therefore asked me to come back the next day. Dissapointment 1.
Change of plans: spend 1 day in the hills, get back to the garage as early as possible next day, Tuesday, then finish most of the original plans.
I went up Goatfell, followed the ridge across North Goatfell and continued towards a very difficult word for the Maiden's Breast. It rained. I was surrounded by clag. On the way back the clag prevented me from finding the route from North Goatfell towards the saddle, forcing me to make it a lineair there and back walk.
I know there is a difference between the metric system and the imperial system. I'm quite used to recalculating speedlimits and distances measured in miles. A yard is already a different, more difficult thing, and recalculating weights in ounce and oz's is just sheer impossible. But percentages? How can percentages be calculated differently? They can't you say? So how come 40% chance of precipitation in Scotland means 99,9%% in mainland European? And how come the same 40% chance of cloudfree hilltops and sunshine in fact means 0%, nil, nada, zip, zero, noppes?
I got soaked, but more importantly, so did my camera. And while getting soaked for me is no more than uncomfortable, for my camera it proofed deadly. And for the gathered footage on the SD card it turned out to be equally lethal. Dissapointment 2. No footage of this first day in Scotland. I only realised this at my first campspot, down in the woods. From there on my Nokia-zero-pixel was used, which I hope is a valid excuse for the poor quality of the photos.
Tuesdaymorning, 6:15, alarm. Excellent night's sleep, strong breakfast. On my way to the garage again.
Ofcourse Angus hadn't been working all night, so ofcourse the workplace was still stacked with cars. Another friendly request, this time to come back at 14:00h. Disapointment 3. This not being his fault nor mine, I decided to make Tuesday a village day. The heritagemuseum was visited, food was eaten, presents for loved ones were bought, outdoorgear that I don't need was looked at and more food was eaten.
Fed and prepared for disappointment 4 I returned to the garage at 14:00h. Angus didn't disappoint though: he'd start straight away and could pick up the car at 16:00'ish.
At 16:00 Angus presented me to some excellent welding on the exhaustpipe, a replaced oilfilter (which apparantly was very needed) and some friendly pricing. I hope I'll be forgiven if I take the opportunity to make some commercial for Angus Lambie. Very thankful for his help.
But all in all, I had lost 2 days out of my original plans, so adaptation was needed. Back to the drawingboard I came up with crossing Glen Rosa in length, climbing up the saddle, summit Cir Mhor, summit Casteal Abhail, summit Suidhe Fhearghas, wildcamp somewhere at north Sannox, make my way back to Brodick via the Arran Coastal Path.
Wednesday. No clag, no rain predicted, apart from the very high winds. Wednesday was going to be a good day.
In an attempt to get a few more photos of Glen Rosa, I scrambled up a big boulder tht found itself half on land, half in water. Bending forward however caused my waterbottle with filter to slide up it's holster and falling in the Glen Rosa burn. Cursing and stumbling I ran with it, in the direction I just came from, at the speed of the flowing water, using my trekkingpoles in an unsuccesful attempt to retrieve the bottle from the water. After about 100 meters, it was sucked under a submerged boulder. I stood there for about 5 minutes, waiting for the bottle to pop up again, with my trekking poles ready for battle.
I never saw it popping up again....
It is now either in bottle heaven or somewhere polluting the Firth of Clyde.
Having hurt myself considerably, seeing a sun slowly turning orange and setting, I felt a sense of hurry and made no pictures on the way down after the Witch's Step. This was a good decision. My way down was quit laughable as I somehow did not find the predicted "well constructed path" and I found myself cursing my way down the western slopes of Suidhe Fhearghas. A long trod through bog, spungebog, black bog, peatbog, grasbog, mossbog and mudbog. To reach any good campspots from there, I walked the A841 eastwards for a while, turning left at north Sannox and put up camp on the eastside of the north Sannox burn.
Thursday. Rain again. It would proof to continue doing so. The only thing waterproofs really proof is that water will find it's way through anyway. The walk back was beautiful though, firstly following the coastline, later uphill again.
Thursday to friday. I slept at the campsite in Lochranza. From there I spent the friday driving around the westcoast from north to south. I got out of the car many times to take photos of the dramatic and beautiful coastline, the obligatory King's Cave, the pittoresque villages. Fridaynight saw me sleeping in Glen Rosa again and Saturday the ferry brought me back to Ardrossan. Sunday I was back home in the NL.
I am so happy I was finally able to return to Scotland again after 3 long years. Dissapointment 1, 2, 3 and 4 could not stop me from thoroughly enjoying myself and the weather could not prevent me from feeling so weirdly at home in a place I wasn't born, do not live and have no ancesters. I hope my next visit won't take 3 years again.
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jacob
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