New Boots on Ben Lawers

I got up at 4.45am this morning, had a quick porridge and a brew, before heading out onto the extremely foggy road to Killin to climb Ben Lawers. A previous attempt at this hill was a complete washout, with only the summit of Bein Ghlas being reached before beating a hasty retreat, broken but unbowed!

Thankfully, today's weather was cold and crisp - just the way I like it, and as I arrived somewhat early in the car park, I decided just to go for it and see the sun come up on the hill. So, head torch on, I ventured forth on icy tracks out onto the open hillside. I must admit to being a wee bit uptight this
morning, as I was trying out a new pair of boots (Scarpa Manta) for the first time, and they had felt a
touch tight when I tried them on at home. However, my fears soon melted away, as they felt just fine
on the move. I have a couple of other pairs of Scarpas and they are right for my feet, so stands to reason that the Mantas should be okay.

I purchased the Mantas, as I was looking for a winter boot that would take step-in crampons. My Scarpa SLs didn't have the groove above the heel and my Scarpa Vegas were okay on technical routes, but overkill on straightforward walks.

Sunrise across Loch Tay

Early cloud on the summit

So, boots feeling good, body in reasonably good shape, of sound mind and starved of winter action due to crap weather, I breezed up Bein Ghlas in no time at all and barely paused for breath before pressing onward to Ben Lawers. The sun came up in the east, across Loch Tay, which was obscured by cloud from a temperature inversion. Here on the hill, early cloud was lifting, the sun was burning through and all was well with the world. I had the hill all to myself and the only sound to be heard was the Ptarmigan, which due to their winter plumage, I couldn't see. Some spindrift danced magically around the rim of the Corrie below and the cloud that had been clinging to the summit of Lawers scudded away to reveal the mountain in all its winter grandeur - whit a day to be oot and about!

View from the summit, looking north

There are two pillars at the summit of the mountain, atop a raised section - I think the story goes that
they tried to artificially elevate the hill to 4000 foot status - idiots! That aside, Ben Lawers is
officially the 10th highest Scottish mountain and really should need no outside assistance to display its beauty. Additionally, easy access to the hill from a high car park, coupled with NTS status has
meant that a lot of path work has been undertaken, leading to high visitor numbers. And as I began
my descent, I discovered that many others had opted to shake off the Christmas turkey and try out all the new gear that Santa had bestowed upon them. Can't really complain though, the solitude was good while it lasted.

Bright enough for shades!

Finally, lots of tricky wee icy bits on the path, cleverly disguised with a sugar coating of snow, ensured that getting back to car was eventful, as I was too lazy to get the crampons on. All in all, an excellent day and well worth a re-visit outwith monsoon season. Ben Lawers - winter garb suits you better than a raincoat!

It's So Worth It!

The first pitter-patter of raindrops had just started rolling down the window. The sky had clouded over and changed into a dark shade of grey as I changed into my bike gear. The house was warm, there was football on the telly, the Sunday newspaper lay invitingly on the kitchen table and the smell of fresh coffee permeated my cosy, secure, living space -  it was enough to make a person decide on discretion being the better part of valour and choose to stay put. But we're made of sterner stuff in this household - oh yes! As I made my way to the garage to collect my trusty steed, I took a deap breath and reminded myself that choosing to be outdoors was, more often than not, the correct decision and I would always feel invigorated and alive after a challenging bike ride in adverse conditions.

I opted for the most traffic-free route I could dream up, which meant venturing onto the back roads and countryside between Kilwinning and Barrmill - undulating rural Ayrshire: hardcore! And so, rolling across the viaduct towards Dalgarven, the journey began promisingly, as bright sunshine pierced the dreaded cumulo nimbus, illuminating the way ahead and pulling me magnetically towards Highfield (I say 'pulling me' - what I mean, in actual fact, is that there was a fairly decent tail wind!).

It was one of those days when it was a bonus just to feel that the correct decision had been made and that the great outdoors really was the only place to be. I felt fresh, happy, excited and curious all rolled into one. The surface water sprayed up my backside and the slippy road surface toyed with my nerves on the steep downhill sections, but, undeterred, I sped on, swerving adeptly to avoid a perilous pothole and steadying the handlebars as I rounded a sharp bend, praying I wouldn't take a nasty tumble. On reaching the halfway point, it was time for a selfie:

Taking time-out

The rest of the journey passed in a flash, as I was 'in the zone'. I had found my own personal rhythm, where momentum was seemingly effortless and my bike ate up the miles like a two-wheeled Pac Man, even though I was now headed into a stiff headwind. At times like these it's hard to wipe the smug grin from your face. You feel nothing but pity for the rest of the non-cycling world, realising that bikes are indeed the only way to travel and that you wouldn't miss out on this experience for anything (okay, well maybe the snow-covered Carn Mor Dearg Arete, or Buachaille Etive Mor……or new tarmac from here to Coylumbridge, or a new pair of Scarpa Mantas!). Well...almost anything!

Happiness is a warm bike!

One Fine Day on Conic Hill

Sometimes the best hills are the wee hills.

Sometimes the best weather is bad weather.

Sometimes the best company is the underdog.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the combination of all of the above leads to one fine day.

Well, one wet and windy day I took a bunch of guys on a trip to the Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond, meaning to walk part of the John Muir way between Balloch and Croftamie. The route between Balloch and Croftamie is a pretty mundane stretch of the Way, consisting of winding tarmac back-roads along what is Route 7 of the national Cycle Network. Today's weather consisted of frequent very heavy showers and a touch of wind thrown into the mix for good measure. It didn't seem like a good day to be outdoors and during the journey north we discussed altering our plans. By the time we reached Dumbarton we had decided that a short hill walk was a better option than trudging along a monotonous road for four and a half hours. The decision was made to head for Balmaha and climb Conic Hill, which would take no more than an hour to the top, even when age and fitness were factored in.

The bunch of guys I brought along were a collection of unemployed men from the Garnock Valley area of North Ayrshire, ranging in age from 18 - 60, all of them more than keen to get outdoors (even in today's lousy weather I had a full minibus!) and all of them in good spirits. Despite the nasty weather, none of them complained.

We rolled into the car park at Balmaha, got everyone kitted out and fired up the stoves for a brew, before heading into the woodland and onto the West Highland Way. The weather, at this point, was fairly benign and as we climbed through the mature woodland we stopped frequently to ensure the group stayed together. Morale was high, even if fitness and inclination were less so, and as we emerged laughing onto the open hillside and began to negotiate a steep set of steps, the heavens opened. The ensuing deluge resulted in some very wet and bedraggled walkers, two of whom had disregarded advice and left behind the waterproof trousers they'd been issued with back at the car park.

Counting the growth rings : 220

However, before long the rain subsided and the guys really started to enjoy themselves. And as we reached a particularly prominent vantage point, the clouds parted, the sun came out and the views across the southern end of Loch Lomond were nothing short of magnificent. Everyone, including the more experienced members of the party, were suitably impressed.

"How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains" John Muir

On the descent, just as we were ambling through the mature woodland again, one of the guys said to me "It's great this, innit?" "Yeah," I replied, "This is Scotland. This is your country!"

It's days like these that make all my work worthwhile. Struggling through wind and rain, heads down, digging in, before the big yellow ball in the sky decides to burst through the grey canopy of misery to reveal creation in all its glory - bang! There's light at the end of the tunnel. Bang! The way ahead becomes clear. Bang! Life ain't quite so bad after all. Its all been worthwhile and everything combined has been leading to this one beautiful moment of clarity and freshness.

Now, the challenge is: to create something similar in all of our lives. Let's make it count! Let's keep going when the going is tough and circumstances combine to make the pathway ahead difficult and unclear. Let's not give up and let's strive to climb out of the dark tunnel and into the light

Biking the John Muir Way: Section 2, Balloch to Strathblane

The John Muir Way is a new long distance footpath running through the central belt from Helensburgh on the west coast through to Dunbar, Muir's birthplace, in the east. What I like about this route, as opposed to other long distance trails, is that it's very accessible for a huge percentage of the population and should hopefully encourage more people to get outdoors and appreciate nature as a result. I've decided to cycle the route in stages, as it's all negotiable on two wheels.

For section 2, I started out just around the corner from Mcdonalds in Balloch, in a steady drizzle, hopeful of drier weather as the day wore on - the forecast said so anyway. This point was where I left off last time after section one from Helensburgh to Balloch. From here the route runs through the Loch Lomond Shores shopping centre (ouch!) and skirts the side of the loch through Balloch country park, where it heads steeply uphill to bypass the front of the castle.

Heading up the side of the loch into Balloch Country Park

It's well signposted, with wee John Muir Way stickers, markers and way posts at regular intervals along the route. The only danger is if you're travelling too fast on two wheels and lose concentration, which I did a couple of times. But for the most part you're following National Cycle Network's Route 7 on back roads, and wending your way toward the throbbing metropolis that is Croftamie,  a one-horse town, where the horse just died! Still, a charming wee spot to stop for a banana and an isotonic boost.

JM Wayposts in Balloch

Show me the way to Croftamie

Not long after Croftamie I was faced with a narrow steel bridge over Endrick Water. At first glance I was all for just battering across it on the bike, but on second thoughts I dismounted and walked over. Well, you never know if a bridge is safe unless you've tested it first, and that's much easier to do on foot. Anyway, it was solid enough, if still a wee bit unnerving, and I resolved to go for broke on the way home.

Hairy Bridge

The route continues along Route 7 until around Gartness (shortly after which I zoomed past the bit where the route joins the West Highland Way - my excuse is that an inconsiderate motorist had parked in front of the gate and sign!!!) and then it's 'Gate City' on the WHW for what seems like ages. It was also really busy with walkers heading north for their eventual destination of Fort William and I was thankful for my bell, especially on the return leg as I was approaching people from the rear - at least some kind souls held the occasional gate open for me.

There's a really rough, steep section on the route, somewhere near Arlehaven and some standing stones (although I had my head down and didn't see the stones - even on the home leg - there were enough stones on the track to negotiate, and this required some concentration) and there were a couple of points where, I have to admit, I got off and walked - luckily enough no one was around to witness this act of cowardice and I made short work of the downhill sections, with a couple of close shaves here and there thrown in for good measure. I hang my head in shame after watching Neko Mulally's 2014 World Championships chain-less downhill ride in Norway - check it out on Youtube.

Looking towards Dumgoyne, Campsies

Thereafter, it was a rather wet and bedraggled soul who hurtled doon the Cuilt Brae into Strathblane, with the rain still steadily falling and not much shelter in sight. On arriving at the A81, I did momentarily consider the comforts of a local hotel for lunch, but settled instead for a nice bus shelter, as I needed a quick turnaround and time was of the essence. Ah well, at least I'd had the foresight to pack a spare base layer and a nice wee Montane Pertex windproof top.

                                      

Time to start the return journey and head for home, with dry clothing and the rain abating - happy days! The only issue with this route is that it's linear, with not many opportunities to loop back to your start point, if you're doing it in individual sections. I suppose it's meant to be undertaken linearly anyway, as one long 134 mile route, so no point moaning about it Stewarty boy - geronwithit! The return journey took somewhat longer than the outward leg, owing to a pair of aching legs and a less than comfy bike seat, and I meandered my way slowly back through Croftamie and headed again for Balloch.

A few miles the other side of Croftamie, I was joined by a fellow cyclist heading for Dumbarton and decided that a wee blether would be just what the doctor ordered, seeing as how my legs seemed to be made of lead at this point. My new biking buddy goes by the name of Leah, and we struck up a great conversation on the way into Balloch. Cycling can be such a sociable pastime and there's always plenty to talk about and I was grateful for some company on the home strait.

Leah

Tough Cookie: Beinn Nan Aighenan

A favourable forecast Thursday afternoon into Friday prompted me to head for the hills and squeeze in a wee wilderness camp before the weekend proper. So, I packed enough grub, stove, sleeping bag and tent and headed north straight from work on Thursday, as I had Friday off seeing as it was my first week back. A gentle introduction back to work always helps, especially as Monday - Thursday had gone particularly well, and I zoomed up the A82 in a good mood and very much looking forward to what lay in store.

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings" John Muir

Similarly, a gentle introduction to my wee micro-adventure meant that I headed into Glen Kinglas from Forest Lodge, only as far as beautiful Loch Dochard, where I pitched ma wee wan-man tent in a bit of a hurry as the bloodthirsty midges were intent on mainlining my supply of RH Negative. Once inside and armed with a copy of The Times, I whiled away the next hour reading by torchlight - very civilised! Then, once the hungry cloud of Culicoides Impunctatis had dissipated, I got the stove fired up and tucked into a very tasty chilli from Mountain House, which was nearly as good as the pasta lasagne I'd sampled recently on my Lairig Ghru trip. Consequently, it was a very full and satisfied adventurer who climbed into his sleeping bag at the ridiculous hour of 9.00pm to get some shut-eye in preparation for the morrow. No need to set the alarm, the early dawn daylight of late summer would rouse me from slumber for the prompt start required on an epic day.

On the walk-in, at dusk

An idyllic spot! Loch Dochard.

Beinn Nan Aighenan is usually tackled from Glen Etive, as part of a smash and grab including Ben Starav et al, as other approaches involve a rather long walk-in. Makes sense really - drive all the way down the tortuous Glen Etive road and make things easy for yourself. Unfortunately, however, I wasn't in the mood for an easy ride and planned to head up Coire na Caime to the col between Glas Bheinn Mhor and Beinn Nan Aighenan, before heading in a southerly direction to the summit.

A glorious day in prospect

I woke around 6.00am. The combined efforts of dawn and a squadron of ducks undertaking take-off and landing procedures on Loch Dochard put paid to any hopes of a lie in on my super-comfy Thermarest (getting the correct level of inflation is key!). Instead, I got a brew on and scoffed an apple and cinnamon cereal bar, followed by a Fredo (chocolate in the morning, I hear you say, aghast!). However, normal nutritional rules don't apply when I'm on mountain manoeuvres, as I relish the opportunity to break free of the strictures of normality and resurrect old school rules, namely - the spirit of 'custard before main course' (lest it gets cold). It's a state of mind!

Morning has broken!

An epic day it turned out to be too, as there was no path up Coire na Caime and I found myself following the Clashgour estate's all-terrain vehicle tracks - an extremely boggy experience! In fact, I think that this corrie is the wettest place on earth! No, really! 

Additionally, the fact that, in my haste I'd forgotten to pack my gaiters, meant that my lower legs were saturated pretty much from the off. Thank goodness for Gore-Tex boots! Anyways, almost three hours later I crested the col, located a proper path and made a beeline for the summit.

Summit pic

Only half an hour later saw me summiting what proved to be a tough cookie. Elated, I strode the final few yards to the top, when something caught my eye: a laminated sheet of paper, folded and stuffed under a boulder in the summit cairn. I removed the paper to discover a rather touching tribute to a young guy who had passed away - he obviously loved the hills, and the person who laid the tribute had gone to a lot of trouble to reach this remote spot. Turns out it was his dad - made me quite emotional. Oh, and the Golden eagle circling the summit added a certain poignancy to the occasion. Wow!!!

Touching tribute

However, the only trouble with long and troublesome walk-in is that you have to walk back out again, so I turned tail and headed downhill into Coire na Torture and re-aquainted myself with deep, tussocky grass and the Tolkienesque 'Dead Marshes'. By the time I'd re-located the tent and trekked back out to Forest Lodge, I'd been on my feet for over eight hours, with a quick ten minute lunch stop.

A Day of Two Halves on Ben Vane

It's been quite some time since my last blog and it seems like ages since Rach and I were on Arran to climb Goat Fell. Weather was a bit different from the day on Arran, at least the first half of the day anyway. The forecast was for rain and wind to hang around most of the morning and vacate the tops by early afternoon. However, due to a prior engagement, we were due back in the real world by 5.00pm and had to make an early start. So, having left the house at 6.45am, we found ourselves at Inveruglas, ready for the off at 8.15am. The weather was pants, but this is what it's all about: the desire to head for the hills is strong, there's an excitement about heading up the Loch Lomond road, craning your neck to see where the cloud base is. Or even not having to crane, as the base is so low, as to require no extraordinary neck manipulation - it was an in between sort of day today. On a scale of 1-5, with 1 being clear blue skies and 5 being cloud almost at loch level, we were sitting somewhere around a 3.5.

Hill Happy!

Today's outing was to climb Ben Vane (last blogged about in January, when I ventured out on my own). This was Rachel's 5th Munro and we couldn't wait around for good weather any longer, forecast or no forecast (we had a prior engagement and had to be home by tea time) it was now or never, and so we strode up the tarmac track past the dismantling of the old electricity sub station and replacement of same with another, highly modern, installation.

To be honest, there's not a lot that can be said to describe the first half of our outing, enveloped in cloud and drizzle as we were for the entire morning. Suffice to say that we struck up another 'name that US state and it's capital' game again, idling away the time as we slowly gained elevation. And as we rose to the challenge of reaching that higher state, geographically speaking, we simultaneously scaled the heights of our combined (limited) intellect, as the game morphed into alphabetical lists of bands and names (yeah, really!!!).

At the summit

Plenty of false summits later, and with some tricky wee crags negotiated, despite the slippery wet rock, we emerged at the true summit, happed up against the wind and rain and looking for a quick turnaround. We managed a couple of photos before heading back downwards to find a more sheltered spot for lunch.

Selfie at the summit

And then, on our descent, the clag slowly started to lift, revealing the beautiful day that had remained hidden from view all morning. Good things come to those who wait!

Blue skies up yonder

So bright now, my eyes taking time to adjust.

Needless to say, the way down was a tad more pleasant than the ascent, and we managed to scoff some rolls, crisps and lashings of chocolate - it's all good!

Sporting some go faster stripes and soaking up the rays

Sometimes the rewards are hard-earned, but they're always welcomed and appreciated, and a wee bit of sunbathing was in order before we headed back down the track from Corriegrogain to Inveruglas.

The Cairngorms Effect

Cairngorms: Friday 6th - Sunday 8th June 2014
This weekend saw me with time on my hands. Pam and Rach were in London and Jack in Greece, so what better to do with my time than disappear to the Cairngorms for a few days, just me, myself and I. So I got some stuff together for a backpacking trip and packed my rucksack. Some of the most magnificent hill-country in Scotland in prospect and plenty of time to properly explore it - this is what makes me tick, quality time in the great outdoors.

Stage One: Linn of Dee to Corrour
Well, after a walk of around 3.5 hours, here I am at Corrour. The tent's up, dinner's on and all's well with the world. There's even a nice wee breeze keeping the midges at bay, and as I look out of my tent northwards, there's a splash of blue sky over Ben Macdui - hopefully a portent of things to come. Oh yes, the simple pleasures, hard-earned -the real McCoy!

Hilleberg Akto, with Corrour Bothy in background

Dinner consisted of macaroni (Mountain House) for main course, followed by rice pudding with strawberries (also, Mountain House) for dessert, washed down with a big mug of coffee. The macaroni wasn't exactly gourmet, but it did the job, and I'm now pretty full and just waiting patiently on the pudding. This is the first time I've used freeze dried meals in years, but in the pursuit of all things lightweight, freeze dried stuff is about a quarter of the weight of Wayfarer meals and that's good enough for me on this trip. After all, I am now, ahem, the wrong side of forty (stop laughing please) and out of condition for a thoroughbred mountain man, so my pack could definitely do with some lightening.

Blimey! The rice pud's a disappointment, and that's putting it mildly! I added 200ml of boiling water and then waited the alloted 4-5 minutes, so I kept my end of the deal. However, it's more like chicken soup than rice pudding - the strawbs are swimming in a strange milky liquid. To top it all, an unwanted guest decided to crash my dinner party and use the aforementioned liquid as a landing strip. He was soon fished out and given his marching orders though. The strawbs probably made him do it: "Come on in, the water's lovely!"

Anyways, most things are edible when you're outdoors. It's not that your standards slip very far, just that you're much more grateful and your body really craves the nourishment (if you've been working hard, that is). Consequently, pretty much anything's acceptable, including the odd blade of grass, sprig of heather and a variety of insect life (usually midges, but in tonight's case, a wee fly.... as long as it's hot). As a result, I'm now suitably sated and busying myself with routine camp chores, like fetching water, tidying the tent - all with a great big smile on my face. This outdoor life's great! Also, making idle chit chat with the numerous other outdoorsy folk who've also lined up the Lairig Ghru as their perfect weekend getaway.

Devil's Point

"In the north-east of Scotland between Speyside and Deeside is a great tract of mountainous country that contains four of Scotland's seven 1,220m (4,000ft) mountains. This is the Cairngorms, a region of high plateaux, deep corries, remote lochs, swift flowing rivers, ancient forests and Arctic-like tundra...here also is a wilderness where it is still possible to be truly alone."

"The Cairngorms consist of three major plateaux, running from Braeriach to Cairn Toul in the west, Cairn Gorm to Ben Macdui in the centre and Beinn a' Bhuird to Ben Avon in the east. Between these three plateaux two major corridors cut through the heart of the massif from north to south, forming classic cross-country routes that have been used since time immemorial. These corridors are the Lairig Ghru in the west and the Lairig an Laoigh in the east."
Exploring Scottish Hill Tracks - Ralph Storer

Ben Macdui

Hang on a minute - did Ralph say it was still possible to be truly alone??? Are you kidding? Man, it's busy here! Ten tents, including my own, dotted around Corrour Bothy, with plenty occupants inside the bothy too. Three tents occupied by Duke of Edinburgh's Award kids on expedition. Two (better not say 'occupied') being used by Germans. Also better not mention that today's the 70th anniversary of the D-Day landings! Not been inside the bothy yet, but I notice it has a cludgie (an outside toilet, for the league of nations who read this blog), which means no wandering off into the storm like Captain Oates. "I am just going outside and may be some time". For the uninitiated, Captain Oates' classic phrase as he basically walked out of a tent to certain death at the South Pole, including Scott of the Antarctic, is part of the outdoor vernacular. So, Corrour, Lairig Ghru, famous mountain pass in the Cairngorms - not so much 'truly alone', but more like a home away from home.

View from the tent - Ben Macdui

I had a couple of places in mind for this weekend - it was either Glen Nevis/Steall (The Ring of Steall) or the Cairngorms. But when I saw the weather forecast, there was only One Direction I wanted to  go - Lairig Ghru. "Weather likely to be drier north and east," it said. Glen Nevis can wait for another day. And so a cunning plan was hatched, to chase the good weather and revisit the Cairngorms on my own terms, seeing as last year's foray was under the auspices of "work."

The plan was to walk from Linn of Dee, near Braemar, via Glen Lui and Glen Luibeg to Corrour Bothy on day one - check! Day two, climb Devil's Point, Cairn Toul and Angel's Peak. Chill a bit in the evening, then walk out again on day three - at a leisurely pace, which can indeed be done when you're on your lonesome and making your own decisions.

Glen Luibeg

So, day one's almost done and dusted and it's now 9.00pm. Will probably have a nice early night, seeing as I'm not that used to this backpacking malarkey and am just a tad tired. Then, up first thing in the morning, pack some essentials in the rucksack and head up Devil's Point, the magnificent rocky peak that's now on my doorstep, followed by Cairn Toul and Angel's Peak, just down the bottom of the street. Then I'll see how these auld knees are bearing up, before deciding whether or not to head across town to Braeriach (a long way!), or retrace my footsteps to my humble abode - decisions, decisions.

Saturday 7th June

Breakfast

Thought I was making an early start this morning, but it seems that most tent occupants were up at the crack of dawn, and not afraid to share their morning optimism with the rest of us sleepyheads. So, up at 7.45am - and that's fairly early for me. After all, we're situated right on mountain country's doorstep, Cairngormarama - it's time to party! After some porridge and coffee, I headed up the garden path next to my tent to climb Devil's Point (Bod an Deamhain in Gaelic - I'll leave you to work out the literal translation! John Brown had a similar conundrum when asked it's meaning by Queen Victoria, as they passed by one day, a while back), the amazing conical peak at the bottom of my garden.

My back yard - Devil's Point

I was still coming to as I headed up into Coire Odhar, the exertions of the previous day lingering in these tired limbs, when I was rudely startled by a cackling grouse, exploding out of the heather nearby. How inconsiderate - I almost woke up! It took two more similar experiences for me to wake up completely, and the third time it happened the pair of grouse I'd disturbed didn't fly off into the distance. The reason? Six wee grouse chicks. I stood rooted to the spot as this beautiful feathered family scattered in every direction, all frantically trying to locate each other whilst mum and dad tried their utmost to gather the group back together again. "Awww," I hear you say. I felt all warm and fuzzy (no pun intended)!

At the col above the corrie, I headed south east for Devil's Point, by this stage a short 20 minute jaunt away. The views from here are absolutely stunning! The uninterrupted vista of the infant River Dee making it's winding way south is superb. As was the view across to Carn a' Mhaim and Ben Macdui, both of which I'd climbed, along with Derry Cairngorm, many moons ago on my Mountain Leader assessment week.

View from summit of Devil's point

However, the views were to get even better still. That's the thrill of exploration - there's always something different and enticing around the corner, or over the next hill. And in the Cairngorms, everywhere's worth the effort and always yields rich rewards.

Then, as I retraced my steps from Devil's Point to the col, the weather was improving dramatically, and although it was windy, the sun was out in force, re-charging the body with heat that the wind was trying to take away. I stopped again at the head of the corrie to refill my Platypus. It's always good to take advantage of a good, clean water source wherever you can. The water on this col seems to come from nowhere, and before long it's tumbling headlong into the corrie below as if there's a loch overflowing the corrie lip. I couldn't see the source, as water just appeared - underground aquifers, perhaps?

Anyway, as I was replenishing my tank at nature's filling station, I happened to look up just as a herd of        around 35-40 reindeer appeared, grazing the moss as they sauntered over in my direction. They seemed very curious and I was amazed as they surrounded me, apparently unconcerned, as they had a fair number of young calves in tow. I'm relieved to say, though, that they are very docile and gentle creatures - no wonder Santa likes them!

Rudolph

Next on the agenda was Cairn Toul (Hill of The Barn), the fourth highest mountain in Scotland, magnificent, but very bouldery and difficult to negotiate. Just then, I must've got a phone signal, as my mobile rang - my Good Lady on the line from down south, London calling. It was good to make contact and let her know I wasn't dead just yet and that the life insurance money would have to be put on hold yet again. It was also good to hear that it was raining in The Big Smoke, but a veritable cauldron in the Cairngorms (only joking, Dear!). One Direction at Wembley - so not for me!

Cairn Toul

The only others I saw all day, apart from the reindeer, were two fell runners and the odd walker. Splendid isolation indeed. And it's at times like this, when I'm marvelling at the awesomeness of creation, that I burst into song - and the mountains grimace! "The wilderness, the barren place, become a blessing in the warmth of your embrace." When I stopped for a bite of lunch at Sgor an Lochain Uaine (commonly known as The Angel's Peak) I literally had the place to myself. And as I looked down into the vastness of An Garbh Coire, below mighty Braeriach, I reflected on how fortunate I was to be here, snug and warm, filling my belly and surveying the magnificence of this remote corrie. There's literally no place I'd rather be, and that's a fact!

Angel's Peak

After a good long rest, I headed back rather than going on to Braeriach. That journey would've resulted in an epic and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it. That fine mountain could wait for another day. I managed to cut out Cairn Toul on my return journey by contouring below and onto Stob Coirie an t-Saighdeir. It was fair getting gusty at this point and I had to hold onto my sunhat.

The bird count was increasing as the day went along, as my feathered friends the Ptarmigan had put in numerous appearances. And I'm sure that there were plenty more nearby too, just that this dottery git didn't spot them, due to a combination of good camouflage on their part and bad eyesight on mine. There was also a lovely wee, unidentified as yet, black and white bird mooching around at the summit of Angel's Peak - it had a green tag on it's leg, so I'm assuming it has some degree of importance to someone. If you can ID it from the picture below, you could win yourself a matching set of luggage from Tesco.

Unidentified Flying Object (since ID'd as a Snow Bunting - thanks Neil)

So, another fine day, all told, and now I find myself back at Corrour, after a wee snooze in Coire Odhar on the way back. Well, if you can't relax and enjoy yourself up here, you'd be better off back in so-called civilisation.

Catchin' up on some shut-eye

Much later, I'm back at the ranch, the kettle's boiled and I'm pouring myself a rather large mug of tea, with milk courtesy of a friendly Italian climber who wished to lighten his rucksack before heading out into the wild blue yonder. And as I was enjoying my tea, he popped over with a choccy biscuit - Italian hospitality in Bonnie Scotland! Should've been the other way around. He'd enquired as to my whereabouts earlier in the day and I'd regaled him with brave tales of derring-do up on the wild and remote plateau. He wanted to know if the traverse all the way along to Braeriach was possible, to which I hinted that, due to his relatively youthful position, it was do-able. Anyway, a couple of hours after he headed off, the rain swept in and didn't let up until way into the wee small hours - hope he made it okay. Oh, and by the way, dinner was much better this time. In fact the best - Mountain House Pasta in a lasagna sauce - very tasty and lots of it.

Writing the blog - the old-fashioned way

All that's left now is for a night of writing this blog and then a walk out to Linn of Dee in the morning. And if the forecast's correct there'll be heavy thundery downpours throughout the day. Now I don't much like heavy thundery downpours, but I'd much rather they graced us with their presence at the end of a trip than the beginning, so good timing.

Well, it's now 6.30pm and the rain's arrived. At least it waited till most folk were off the hill (sorry my Italian friend). So now I'm zipped up in my sleeping bag, sheltering in my wan man tent, reading Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T.E. Lawrence - a fine read by any standards - and eating trail mix. Yes I know you're meant to eat it out on the trail, but it's rather good and it's making me forget the gathering storm outside. So now it's isolation of a different sort - never mind, I'd have to write this nonsense sometime, so no time like the present.

And now, seeing as I'm officially bored, tent-bound and desolate in wild Lairig Ghru, let's give some purpose to proceedings by having a new gear review. First up - the Hilleberg Akto wan man tent.

Hilleberg Akto
So far, so good. A great, well-designed one man shelter. Everything about this tent smacks of quality, durability and well thought-out design. It has loads of space for the solitary traveller, as when the inner door is fixed open, it's almost like being in a two-man tent, as the porch is so spacious. Also, it's tall
enough in the middle that I can sit upright, dangling my legs out the door, and that means everything's within easy reach. It also has clever wee zipped ventilation hatches at floor level at each end and a triangular flap on the inner door to see out and keep the dreaded midge from sucking your blood. Great stuff Hilleberg!

Hilleberg Akto - with Corrour Bothy

Thermarest Neo-Air XLite
This inflatable mat is pure luxury. I justified forking out the £120 quid or so for it by telling myself that, with my dodgy back, nothing's too expensive. Helps when you have a Cotswold 20% discount card, though.

It comes, rolled up, in a size that's roughly equivalent to a one litre drinks bottle and it weighs a fraction of it's nearest competitor. It really is very comfortable, and it's great for side-sleepers like me, ensuring that your hips don't make contact with the ground below. Additionally, it has a clever internal design that reflects body heat. I was a bit wary of it at first, as it feels really flimsy, so I stuck a good old-fashioned Karrimat on my rucksack, just in case the ground was stony and it got punctured (belt and braces), but glad to say - it's survived intact. Wait! What's that hissing noise??? Only joking!

Rab Silk Sleeping Bag Liner
This liner weighs next to nothing, but for the extra layer of insulation it provides, it's invaluable - I was real warm and snug as a result of using it inside my flimsy summer sleeping bag. It also means your sleeping bag is kept clean for longer, as you'll only need to wash the liner. What a great wee luxury! In the past I've used a cotton liner, but it's amazing just how much heavier they are than silk (really buying into this lightweight ethos!). Well worth the forty-odd quid purchase price. Hopefully it's durable.

Black Diamond Head-Torch
This was an enforced purchase, as my daughter managed to lose my previous head torch on a recent Duke of Edinburgh's Award expedition. It's a great design, with two modes - full-on, or spotlight, and it looks pretty funky too. In fact, in the looks department, this is the most attractive of all the gear reviewed here. And let's face it, looks are important. The only time it's been deployed so far though, was in the cludgie at Corrour, and I'm not about to describe what it illuminated within those four walls - but at that moment, if I'd had the choice between a torch or a gas-mask, I'd have opted for the latter. Suffice to say that this torch is re-assuringly bright.

Sorbothane Insoles
Last, but by no means least, I'll go out on a limb (again, no pun intended) and say that these insoles are the best buy I've ever made in outdoor gear, and that's no exaggeration. My feet take me where I want to go, and that's generally over rough terrain, up hill and over dale, so it's fair to say that they're well worth looking after properly, especially as I suffer periodically from Planter Fasciitis. I was tempted to spend the extra for a pair of Superfeet insoles, but at less than half the price of those, these boys have really delivered. I can honestly say that after all this weekend's walking, my feet have been extremely comfortable throughout, with not a hint of aching heels, as in the past. So, these are my star buy. The purchase that's delivered the most value for money. Thank you Sorbothane.

Sunday 8th June
Well, my planned long lie never materialised, as again the early morning habits of my fellow campers impinged upon my quest for slothfulness yet again. So I was up, breakfasted and ready to roll by 9.30am. The day had started off dry after the heavy rain of the previous evening and today's weather looked a wee bit dicey, so I started off in my waterproof jacket. Before long, however, the sun put in an appearance, I ditched the jacket, and most of the rest of the walk out was fine. I stopped for lunch at Derry Lodge, before making my way down that fine sandy track back to the car at Linn of Dee. What a weekend!!!

Enjoying the fine weather at Derry Lodge

To summarise, I'd say that I don't think I've smiled as much in a long time. And anybody who knows this typically dour Scot will vouch for that. Let's just call it The Cairngorms Effect.

Red Hot on The Fell

What a change from last time out! Instead of the inside of a cloud, we had a perfect 360 of great views. Instead of a deluge, we got melted. Instead of a vicious wind, we had...well, not much wind at all to speak of, which has it's problems - namely loads of clegs (horse flies) and midges (wee mini mossies). Hang around in one spot for too long and you're dinner - raw! Still, the weather today was fab and it wasn't long before we were well and truly cooked. However, as long as one was armed with plenty of sun cream, liberally applied, and re-applied, and re-applied thrice more, the worst ravages of the sun were kept at bay. Even still though, I'm rather red.

Slap it on!

Lookin' cool

Today, Rach and I were part of a group doing a charity walk on Goat Fell, Isle of Arran, for a colleague's father. Diagnosed with Parkinson's and then with cancer, life hasn't been easy recently and now he's in a hospice, which we're raising money for. My colleague Eddy billed the walk as "The highest busk in the world", a performance of "The Man Wi Nae Legs" at the summit. Eddy took his guitar all the way up, and a party of around 100 supporters, including the Royal Voluntary Service and Marks and Spencer's, who provided backing vocals at the top.

Eddy giving it welly!

After listening to Eddy, we decided to lose the crowds and headed off down Stacach to North Goat Fell. It was great to finally experience a wee bit of solitude on this stunning granite playground, after a fair bit of time spent at the top of Goat Fell. Arran has changed a lot since the last time I visited - the path workers have been hard at work repairing eroded granite tracks and building steps for the hordes of day-trippers who frequent theses shores. It seems that climbing Goat fell is the thing to do here, either that or cycle round the island and there were plenty up for the 59 mile jaunt today judging by the amount of MAMILs (Middle Aged Men In Lycra) we saw on the ferry. Therefore, every which way leading to Goat Fell is a well-constructed highway, with stairs like you'd see in your house - kinda takes away the wilderness feel. Suppose it's necessary though. Anyway, if you dare to leave the vicinity of Arran's highest peak, you'll discover more than a few real gems.

That's Cir Mhor (pronounced keer vor) and The Castles ridge, complete with the Witch's Step in the background. What a view! I think we'll defo be back over sometime soon to devote some more time to these beauties. When you see the ridge from Ben Nuis to Ben Tarsuinn, A'Chir, Cir Mhor and the Castles, you realise that Goat Fell is probably the least interesting hill in the main northern granite massif.

As we took the path down into Corrie Lan (in it's lower reaches the straightest hill path I think I've ever clapped eyes on) we managed to bump into Joy and Garry, with their son and daughter, on their way up. Small world. 

Then the jet carrying the Commonwealth Baton arrived, just as Eddy had promised, and circled the summit no less than five times before flying down the length of Corrie Lan. We waved and the pilot tipped his wings in acknowledgement. Nice gesture, and a nice finishing touch to the day's events.

All that was left to do now was to catch the 4.40 ferry back home. A good day and a fitting reward for the previous trip's crazy weather.