{"id":26323,"date":"2022-08-31T08:41:11","date_gmt":"2022-08-31T08:41:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.walkhighlands.co.uk\/news\/?p=26323"},"modified":"2022-08-31T08:54:19","modified_gmt":"2022-08-31T08:54:19","slug":"mind-the-gaick","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.walkhighlands.co.uk\/news\/mind-the-gaick\/","title":{"rendered":"Mind the Gaick"},"content":{"rendered":"
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High anxiety causes heart palpitations that frighten me as I lie in bed at night. Sleep doesn\u2019t come easily (but to be fair, it never has). I\u2019m waiting for my fifth, and final, annual breast clinic check at hospital. My attitude is a little devil may care in the build up to these appointments \u2013 I can\u2019t seem to help it. I burn through days on a million mile an hour program of distraction, but all that achieves is exhaustion, tearfulness and emotional chaos (mixed in with an unhelpful dose of self-loathing for not being in control). I have lots of questions to ask the consultant, and many fears I wish him to allay before he releases me back into the care of my GP. If he gives me good news, I don\u2019t want to go into work. If it\u2019s bad news, I don\u2019t want to go into work. I arrange annual leave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seventy-two hours before the appointment I receive a call from an apologetic receptionist. \u2018Due to staff shortages we have to cancel your appointment, we\u2019ll rearrange very soon.\u2019 Panic causes a mammoth hot flush (chemotherapy forced early menopause, oh yes, cancer \u2013 the gift that keeps giving). There\u2019s only one thing for it, I pack my ruckie and head for the hills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The original plan was to take the ferry from Mallaig to head for Rum to do the ridge. But I\u2019d received a heads up about the Manx shearwater population there being at risk of avian flu. NatureScot sent out a request that walkers avoid a full ridge traverse till mid-October, when the chicks will have fledged \u2013 fair dos. So instead I opt for Kinloch Rannoch and Drumochter. Five Corbetts for (almost) a fifth anniversary, fitting, I thought.<\/p>\n\n\n

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A favourite of mine, wild Scabious on Beinn Pharlagain<\/a>. Bog cotton and orchids are also seen in abundance here.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

After nipping up Meall na Meoig I drive back down the narrow road that runs alongside Loch Rannoch. Loads of tents are pitched and there are people in and on the water \u2013 cooling down on this blisteringly hot August day. I\u2019d have been tempted to jump into the loch too if it wasn\u2019t for the lure of my summit camp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I bike uphill on the private, tarmac road towards my second Corbett, Stob an Aonaich Mh\u00f2ir<\/a>; with my camping pack weighing heavily it proved hard work in the heat, but the suns warmth felt good on my skin. The bike wheels ticked as they turned. Butterflies fluttered. Small birds took to the wing as I cycled by and it felt like I was the only person in the world as I travelled the lonely road. Eventually I gave in and pushed the bike on the long ups, stopping now and then to take in all the emptiness (okay okay, I stopped to catch my breath).<\/p>\n\n\n

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With gladness I reached the point where a small cairn marked the place I\u2019d strike off to do Beinn Mholach<\/a> the following morning. I stashed a smaller pack containing a few supplies here.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

After a couple more kilometres uphill the bike got ditched, and tired legs pulled me over rough slopes to the summit of Stob an Aonaich Mhoir. The sudden view down onto a serene Loch Ericht was outstanding. It was even more surprising to see the Ben Alder massif slap bang in front of my face, rising solidly above the loch. And, gliding on the thermals, I could have sworn I caught glimpse of an eagle, its rich brown wings outspread as it sailed out of sight beneath the cliffs. I enjoyed the sensation of lightness as I dropped my pack, and sat for a moment, just to listen. Not a breath of wind to be heard, but there was much humming and droning activity going on about the summit cairn as flying insects went about their business. Apart from them this whole place was my own for the night; a thought accompanied by a great sense of peacefulness.<\/p>\n\n\n

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A grand location for a camp. And I was delighted to note, splattered over the cairn like mini runways, great white streaks of poop \u2013 and eagle pellets!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Bidean nam Bian (Glencoe) seen distantly in the west. Left of Loch Laidon are Bridge of Orchy then Glen Lyon Munros<\/a>.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

As the Sun continued its journey toward the horizon I\u2019d wandered up and down the ridge, absorbing the views, all the while my eyes searching and scanning for the eagle. I didn\u2019t see it again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What being in the outdoors does for me is better than any pill that can be prescribed. I\u2019m so engaged in my surroundings that worries I carry about my heath dispel. The hour is late, but I enjoy dinner in the silence and, with my belly full, I sleep soundly \u2013 how grateful I was for that.<\/p>\n\n\n

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The Sun about to rise on a new day.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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. . . and the Sun arrives, its light lifting night’s inky darkness from the landscape.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Light filters across the landscape.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The power nature has to soothe can never be underestimated, and it was difficult to tear myself away from wonderful summit views. But the next Corbett, Beinn Mholach, awaited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My feet got a proper soaking as I trod downhill through long grasses, back towards my bike, and I was very pleased I had dry socks and second pair of boots to look forward to when I eventually got back to my car. Beinn Mholach can be tackled a few different ways \u2013 from Dalnaspidal Lodge, or from Annat, or from where I\u2019d dropped to the roadside coming off Stob an Aonaich Mhoir. But I was going in from further down the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a rough, tussocky and hard bloody going ascent over uninteresting terrain, and a whole hour passed before I was enjoying views back over Rannoch Moor again. Up and on and up and down I went before then hitting peat hag central \u2013 though easy enough to negotiate a way through its maze since the peatiness firmed up during the recent spell of hot weather. It felt like a fun game against the hill that I was winning. Beinn Mholach\u2019s giant summit cairn came 5km later \u2013 along with the entire contingent of Rannoch midge.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Views again. Beinn a\u2019 Chreachain<\/a> above the cloud inversion.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Beinn Mholach trig and summit cairn.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

A mountain hare sat in close range by a large boulder, at least he was unperturbed by the massed midge army. Satisfied with the views, and a quick snap of the top Ben Nevis, I was off. Internally I fretted. I\u2019d given myself much left to do in the day. And as I walked, and thought, I felt really annoyed with myself for my rushing ways. \u2018Why can I not be content doing one hill and one camp? Why do I feel an urgency to squeeze as much as I can into the time I have?\u2019 Then Simon and Garfunkel stuck their tuppence worth into my brain, \u2018Slow down, you move too fast. You got to make the morning last\u2026\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

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Nature saves the day again as I feel a wonderful sense of isolation and contentment walking towards views of the vastness of Rannoch Moor.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Four hours after setting off up Beinn Mholach I was back at the road, reunited with my bike. And lord, what extreme joy it was on the ride back to car! I grinned the whole way. Bike wheels whizzed and whirred, and tears streamed from my eyes as I flew hell for leather down the tarmac. Through slightly blurred vision I counted one, two then three males on mountain bikes, pushing against the incline as they came around a corner I was fast approaching \u2013 the guy at the back swiftly manoeuvring out of my way. They were greeted with a, \u2018Woo <\/em>hoo<\/em>!<\/em>\u2019 as I spun by. What took two and a quarter hours to cycle in, took 26 minutes on the return. If there were ever hills to take a bike to, it\u2019s these.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A little after one o\u2019clock saw me pushing the bike uphill again wondering, quite seriously, if I was in my right mind. I was now on the way in to the Gaick Corbetts, An Dun and A\u2019Chaoirnich<\/a>. My camping pack weighed uncomfortably, muscles in my legs were weary and the thought of how I\u2019d manage up vertiginous slopes not once but twice more today kept creeping in. \u2018Slow and steady,\u2019 I told myself, followed by, \u2018What a heat!\u2019 Followed again by, \u2018What the hell am I thinking?! And all accompanied by, \u2018Slow down, you move too fast . . .\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

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Any concerns disappear as I delve further into the tranquil, summer landscape.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Ditching the bike I continue on foot. It was still hot so I stripped off my skirt and walked in my pants. At this hour it seemed unlikely I\u2019d meet anyone but, as I pulled myself up onto moraine near the foot of An Dun, out of my peripheral vision, I saw someone wave. I giggled in embarrassment and waved back at a guy on his bike.<\/p>\n\n\n

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In a blaze of blue the guy on the bike rides off fast, likely repelled by the sight of my wobbling flesh.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Wonderful view into the Gaick pass from An Dun<\/a>. I was eyeing up the steep slopes of A\u2019Chaoirnich<\/a>, trying to decide which way up I\u2019d take. Loch Bhrodain (left) and Loch an Duin (right).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n
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Startled Dotterel take to the wing. In a way, I envy their flight and apparent freedom.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

These last two Corbetts were steep, but straightforward \u2013 albeit on the ascent of A\u2019Chaoirnich I cursed the route I\u2019d picked, yelling at my shadow that whoever came up with the idea of doing this hill in the first place must\u2019ve been on acid (Sorry, Mr Corbett). Never have I ever been so slow on a mountain, but part of the enjoyment in reaching the top was the \u2018struggle\u2019 and I reflected, not for the first time, that this is probably true of life in general \u2013 you appreciate the smooth so much more if you\u2019ve experienced the rough. It\u2019s not just physical limitations I\u2019m experiencing post cancer, my mental health also poses an issue \u2013 and hills are my coping mechanism. Being in nature grounds me and offers perspective on all the shady shit of life; somehow, it helps me find the answers to my own questions. On this trip I\u2019d pushed what are my limits because I\u2019d wanted to forget everything about the milestone clinic appointment . . . and that sense of urgency I feel is because I\u2019ve had a brush with my own mortality. But when I sleep up high on a mountain I\u2019m reminded that no matter what difficulties there are, the world still turns. There\u2019s assurance in the setting and rising of the sun. And when I lie out in the middle of the night to watch the constellations, I\u2019m reminded that I \u2013 we \u2013 are but a tiny piece of the fabric of it all.<\/p>\n\n\n

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High anxiety causes heart palpitations that frighten me as I lie in bed at night. Sleep doesn\u2019t come easily (but to be fair, it never has). I\u2019m waiting for my fifth, and final, annual breast clinic check at hospital. My attitude is a little devil may care in the build up to these appointments \u2013 I can\u2019t seem to help it. I burn through days on a million mile an hour program of distraction, but all that achieves is exhaustion, tearfulness and emotional chaos (mixed in with an unhelpful dose of self-loathing for not being in control). I have lots…<\/span> <\/p>\n

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