{"id":25988,"date":"2022-03-12T18:36:29","date_gmt":"2022-03-12T18:36:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.walkhighlands.co.uk\/news\/?p=25988"},"modified":"2022-03-14T09:23:06","modified_gmt":"2022-03-14T09:23:06","slug":"condtions-over-ambitions","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.walkhighlands.co.uk\/news\/condtions-over-ambitions\/","title":{"rendered":"Conditions over Ambitions"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Agitated is how I feel when I can\u2019t get out onto the hills. I find it unbearable therefore I am unbearable and a bit of a nightmare to live with for most of January and February (though my partner Paul may argue I\u2019m a pain most of the year round).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I swear the skin on the tips of my forefinger and thumb have virtually worn away from the constant swiping as I check and re-check forecast updates. One storm system after the other has swept in over Scotland from the Atlantic. Conditions on the mountains have been fairly grim, and safety warnings posted in abundance. The weather is even making headline news on TV. But it\u2019s not just high winds that have been horrendous. I injured my lower rib a couple of weeks ago when I launched myself onto my shopping trolley in Tesco for a giant freewheel down the length of the store. The pain feels like our recent weather, extreme. That combined with discomfort in my bad ankle is just another reason for my not getting out to the hills misery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While Storms Dudley and Eunice battered England with record breaking winds, snow was being dumped heavily across the Scottish mountains \u2013 and long range forecasts continue to predict an unsettled Atlantic weather pattern, with sustained upland gales for the foreseeable. But then, from almost out of nowhere, as though a fairy godmother waved her magical wand, a weather window appeared \u2013 but, just for one day mind and it came with warnings. \u2018Get down from the hills before late,\u2019 the weatherman said, \u2018because by evening it\u2019s back to business as usual.\u2019 Sore ribs, a dodgy ankle and sizeable drifts to contend with or not, the die was cast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Paul drives us to Lynwilg the following morning to a wee Corbett there that I\u2019d yet to do. Geal-charn Mor is accessed just off the A9 and is a reasonable choice of hill given the circumstances. With snow and ice at low levels many back roads to other more isolated hills would have been treacherous to get to; Paul hadn\u2019t been out on the mountains since last August, so wasn\u2019t entirely fit; and my ribs are still mending. \u2018Conditions over ambitions,\u2019 I mutter, rationalising with my other gung ho self who saw a good day and wanted more from it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Other people\u2019s footprints going up the track made progress marginally easier, but the snow was deep in places and very soft, so it wasn\u2019t long before Paul was peeling off layers. I looked ahead at the pristine scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Trees starkly outlined in a winter wonderland against a deep blue sky.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Next we did what you shouldn\u2019t necessarily do on a hill \u2013 we followed a small group of people who were up ahead. They were travelling west, aiming straight for the summit. It didn\u2019t take long to realise a direct line was not for us because, unlike them, we didn\u2019t have the benefit of snow shoes, or skis with skins to glide us over the heathery slopes. Sinking deeply with every step we cut back across to where the track ought to be and the going slightly less arduous. Paul called to me. He\u2019d sunk crotch deep into the snow. \u2018I can\u2019t get out!\u2019 he exclaimed. Naturally I shouted back words of encouragement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Course you can!\u2019 I yelled, as I watched him roll and claw his way to freedom (I swear to God I wasn\u2019t laughing, not out loud anyway). The going became a little firmer underfoot, but Paul shouted out again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018If the top\u2019s much further I\u2019m turning round. My hip hurts.\u2019 I promised him the peak was only a few hundred meters more. He didn\u2019t buckle and, not much longer after walking over the top of the buried fence and gate, we reached the summit cairn. Poor Paul was suffering, but he\u2019d have fared a lot worse had I not brought something for lunch, and a hot drink for us both. I\u2019d told him to eat breakfast before setting out, but he had not. And neither did he think he\u2019d need anything to eat on the hill. \u2018I\u2019m just taking water,\u2019 he\u2019d announced. It was a mistake I\u2019d made myself in the past so couldn\u2019t really slag him for it. Anyway, he wasn\u2019t the only one hurting. My left ankle was now gnawing away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Looking across Rothiemurchus Forest to the Cairngorm Massif.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Views from the summit were terrific but, as Paul said, mainly because of the snow. Caringorms one way, Ben Wyvis the opposite and the Monadhliaths the other. I absorbed the Arctic-like, wind sculpted landscape; the summit plateau a vast ocean of waves frozen in motion, and the surrounding peaks all shapely like Saharan sand dunes that had been airbrushed white. It was freezing. Well into the minuses Paul reckoned. I was thinking how glad I was that there was barely a breath of wind to bring the temperature down, when it occurred to me how utterly still everything seemed. Above my head was an empty, noiseless sky. No helicopter flying about on a rescue mission today, not here anyway. My ankle gnaws. And my eyes search in the direction of those mountains, Stob Coire Sgriodain and Chno Dearg, which lie southwest of the Monadhliath range. I can see, hear and feel it all over again; the sight of the helicopter lowering into position, its powerful blades rupturing the airflow and thrusting icy spindrift into my face, and the sense of fear that the powerful updraft would send me sliding further down the slope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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It was ten years ago, on the last day of January, when I\u2019d had a bit of an epic on Stob Coire Sgriodain. It had all happened in a flash. One minute I was traversing a snowy gully, the next I\u2019d lost my footing and was sliding at a rate of knots down the steep slope. I\u2019d clocked rocks below and did something else you should definitely never do on a hill, I used my crampon as a brake . . . very effectively actually . . . if only my body hadn\u2019t hurtled on regardless . . . I saw my foot bend outward at ninety degrees and was certain it shouldn\u2019t be able to do that. As I came to a grinding halt with a mouth full of snow I knew immediately I wouldn\u2019t be able to get up onto my feet, let alone attempt to walk. I imagined having to drag myself out on my elbows. I didn\u2019t like the idea, so Lochaber Mountain Rescue Team was called. I didn\u2019t know it at the time, not only had the helicopter been sent, but a team of 28 had also been mobilised and were making their way to me over land \u2013 a huge turn-out made on my behalf. On seeing the helicopter I remember thinking two things, \u2018Thank God for mountain rescue,\u2019 and \u2018Man, I hope my ankle is broken and not just badly sprained.\u2019 I didn\u2019t like the thought of the rescue volunteers going to all this trouble for nothing \u2013 and also, I had a fair idea of how expensive a rescue could be (approx \u00a32,500). I will forever feel a huge debt of gratitude, not just to LMRT, but to all the guys and gals involved in mountain rescue. They are incredible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Trying to keep warm while waiting for mountain rescue.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n
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Winched up, I was flown to Belford hospital, Fort William where it was confirmed I\u2019d, \u2018done a good job on my ankle.\u2019<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

At Belford hospital my boot had been removed so x-rays could be done, and my trousers were taken off too (so my leg could be plastered). The hospital staff gathered around my bed started sniggering and giggling. I didn\u2019t find anything funny. But because of all the drama (and the morphine) I\u2019d quite forgotten what I had on under my walking gear. It was only when the doctor chuckled, \u2018Is that what you hillwalkers wear these days?\u2019 that I looked down to see my sparkly, silver sequin dress. (In my defence I\u2019d had it on \u2013 albeit prematurely \u2013 in celebration of the day\u2019s hills bringing my Munro tally to 150.) Someone took a photo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Not high on my mountain but definitely high on the morphine!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

After a few lengthy, painful and unsuccessful attempts to manipulate things back into position I was sent home with the instruction to go to Raigmore hospital in Inverness the following morning. Two days later I was the proud owner of a new titanium ankle (sounds more impressive than a plate and a few screws).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Ben Wyvis, and where home is.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Standing on the top of Geal-charn Mor I now turn to face snow clad Ben Wyvis<\/a> \u2013 it\u2019s Inverness\u2019s Munro, and seeing it always makes me think of home. I\u2019m looking out across a familiar landscape rich both in memories and lessons learned along the way. Paul is on his feet now and passes the flask. He takes photos, and I enjoy the sensation as my share of the hot drink makes its way down into my core. So much has happened in the last ten years since I broke my ankle. I\u2019m quite good at breaking my bones, especially these days, I think. Aging may have something to do with it, but mostly I blame breast cancer \u2013 the chemotherapy and radiotherapy I underwent. It\u2019s a true fact these treatments lead to bone loss and increase the risk of fractures. I\u2019m sad that I obviously can\u2019t go throwing myself onto shopping trolleys anymore, but as long as I can still get out and enjoy the mountains then all is well in the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Real life kaleidoscope-vision as natures lines and patterns converge at vanishing point.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Paul and I make our way down off the hill and I stop to absorb the natural beauty around me once more. It\u2019s been a perfect day. I\u2019d done such a lot of complaining about the weather up till now, but that\u2019s okay, it\u2019s nice to have something normal to moan about. I feel happy and reset. And Paul is happy too, because I won\u2019t be so unbearable to be around . . . for now.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Agitated is how I feel when I can\u2019t get out onto the hills. I find it unbearable therefore I am unbearable and a bit of a nightmare to live with for most of January and February (though my partner Paul may argue I\u2019m a pain most of the year round). I swear the skin on the tips of my forefinger and thumb have virtually worn away from the constant swiping as I check and re-check forecast updates. One storm system after the other has swept in over Scotland from the Atlantic. Conditions on the mountains have been fairly grim, and…<\/span> <\/p>\n

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