How We Gave the Virus a Kick in the Teeth
By Chris Thickett
From 'Travels With My Uncle'
A Dormouse Production
The foot and mouth plague certainly has had an effect on the judgement and reason of particular individuals. Just before the outbreak, I was in Scotland with someone known as the Mad Hatter in a previous life. Although we were in the vicinity of Schiehaillion, the ascent of the mountain was dismissed by the above mentioned as a chossy pustule, not worthy of our attentions or energies.
So you can image my surprise when Keith announced only a few weeks later that he had just completed an enjoyable and successful day with Iain on this most wonderful of peaks. My theory is that, whilst the countryside is being ravaged by disease, the desperation and frustration experienced by the climbers and hill walkers has caused their opinions to become warped. So much so that if you can gain access onto any hill during these troubled times then its moorland bogs become objects of remarkable and pristine beauty and its rocky bits are seen as glorious shining temples. Thus are the transformation and beatification of Shitehaillion adequately explained.
Bob and I travelled north during the late afternoon and evening, stopping for tea at a fine fish and chip shop - the Ben Ledi café - on the main street through Callender. This establishment had originally opened as an ice-cream parlour way back in 1906 and was still in the hands of the original family. The later generations may be judged to have a more pragmatic approach towards the Scottish weather in contrast to the optimism of their ancestors.
Just north of the Bridge of Orchy, there was a temporary roadblock forcing up to dip the car tyres over disinfected straw so that the vehicle would not catch the dreaded pox.
We all met up at the Kinlochleven hut armed with the latest list of the mountains open for business and the 'comeback code' as supplied on the web-site of the Mountaineering Council of Scotland. With the devastation of the rural tourist industry this latter document perhaps should be re-titled the 'comeback please code.'
The conditions on the Scottish peaks two-thirds through April were a bit of an unknown to the assembled bunch although much white stuff could be seen on some of the tops. Some of the other hut dwellers were intent on ice climbing but the only decent conditions appeared to be above four thousand feet on Ben Nevis. Their half-past-five-in-the-morning start to get to the climbs before dark persuaded us to stick to walking; all rock climbing below the two thousand foot contour was still out of bounds.
On Wednesday morning, we drove round to one of the two large lay-bys west of Allt-na-reigh in Glencoe. These were designated access points furnished with disinfectant baths which the authorities asked walkers to use before and after their day on the hill. Other 'simple' requests included keeping away from animals so anyone wearing wellies would be under double suspicion.
Thus, after dipping our boots in the washing-up bowl of muddy water, we left the roadside and dropped down to the bridge across the rocky gorge of the River Coe. Our first objective was the Lost Valley hoping to avoid any recently rustled cattle that the MacDonald's had left around. The clouds were high although there were wintry showers hanging about.
Part way up to the valley, Iain and Keith had a disagreement as to which side of the stream we should take. Keith won and everybody lost when we ended up on some awful loose scree on the east slopes of Gearr Aonach. However, it would have been possible to retrieve the situation if the start to the 'zigzags' up the rock face could be found. Well! It would have been possible!
In the end, we traversed on improving ground to a point above the flat part of the valley. Here, we were surprised by a large herd of about forty deer which we avoided as well as the confines of the valley would allow, whilst our consciences refused to register their presence at all.
Further on, the walking became steeper up the reconstructed footpath until we reached the snowline at around 650 metres. The snow was easy-angled yet hard enough for crampons which we duly clamped-on. The slope became increasingly steeper as we approached the rim of the corrie at the lowest point between the Stob Coire Sgreamhach and Bidean. Here we met a Widnes-er from northern Queensland who had not experienced temperatures under 20 degrees Celsius since before Christmas. It would have been cheaper to stick his head in the fridge and stayed at home!
The cold wind made our stop on the summit of Bidean nam Bian hardly perceptible as we immediately started down the ridge towards Stob Coire nan Lochan. This ridge was the best bit of the day. The crampon points bit into the hard snow as we climbed down the sharply defined apex with steep drops off both sides. I reminded myself that I must not fall off to my left, west into Coire nam Beith, as that was still strictly off-limits, FMD-wise. We traversed the Stob round to the west and then back into its northern coire. The snow and ice climbs on the cliffs looked seriously off-limits, condition-wise.
We finished the day by descending the Coire nan Lochan valley back to the road and the welcome foot-bath as the feet and legs were feeling the effects of the prolonged enforced layoff. After two months, there were some tired-looking faces as well.
Next day, we considered a treat as reward for Wednesday's efforts. Bob drove us round to the car park below the Aonachs' cable car where we all put on our boots except Bob who tried to put on someone else's. Unfortunately, these belonged to a young lady and were around three sizes too small. Never mind, Bob did get the prize for most unusual fetish of the year! His prize was a trip to Kinlochleven where he retrieved his own boots and where the young lady in question had not yet missed them, so he was able to put them back on the washing line unseen!
In the meantime, the remaining threesome paid £6.90 return each and were whisked up to the 600 metre contour without any effort at all. Above, there were many people with bits of wood screwed to their feet, trying to keep on the piste as there were bare sections between the runs.
We avoided the down and outs by gaining a ridge to the left and east. The first section was unrelenting steep moorland but after reaching our first object the walking improved as we mounted a snow covered ridge up to the top station of the ski-tows.
Avoiding the wooden shed, we continued to follow the corniced rim of the eastern escarpment across the long, flat summit plateau of Aonach Mor - the beag of the two Aonachs. Over a kilometre south of the ski station we reached a slight rise supporting a small cairn which announced the top. Enhanced with a mottled cloud effect, there were fine views in all directions and especially the snow ridges of Carn Mor Dearg and the cliffs of Nevis beyond stood out well. There was no letup as we struck off to bag Aonach Beag - the mor of the two Aonachs.
The walk down the shallow slope to the intervening bealach was exceptional - easy walking with tremendous views over the Mamores and Glencoe hills to the south, all glistening in the sun and snow.
We received a rude shock when we started going uphill. Steep hard snow! We ensconced ourselves into a cosy hollow where we took lunch and put on our crampons. A young woman had confidently shot up Aonach Beag in front of us and we were still in our lunch spot when she descended back passed us. Her confidence had taken a serious knock; she looked quite fraught with anxiety.
"You definitely need crampons," she told us. She had no crampons and continued to kick her toe nails a millimetre into the hard surface whilst her face displayed all the apprehension involved.
You definitely needed crampons. The slope was very steep for a good way until eventually it relented and finally gave way to the top. Excellent! However, it was not long before we were climbing back down to the bealach, that long steep convex section giving rise to some anxiety even wearing crampons.
At the bealach, we bumped into Bob, this time wearing his own boots. A quick calculation predicted that if Bob climbed Aonach Beag he would not catch the last flying bucket at five o'clock, so he decided to turn back with us - that is, after his lunch.
We returned back over that long summit of Aonach Mor with its prolonged views. On reaching the slopes, Bob and I decided to risk death and destruction by walking down at the side of the pistes, parts of which were quite frozen still. We were trying out our instep crampons and, on some long steep sections, we were able to reach conclusions on their use in such conditions - only bloody just, mate!
I had not been on the Mamores for nearly thirty-two years so I persuaded my companions to accompany me on some of the eastern bits, now free of FMD restrictions. Disinfectant was available at the car park of the Mamore Lodge where we made our final preparations under a cloudless Friday sky.
From the lodge, we set off on a good track round to the north into Coire na Ba. Where it met the stream, we left the track for the narrower path up the corrie. As the hillside steepened, so did my little legs become more painful. I should not be allowed to have two months away from the mountains! In reality, the path was well-graded and well-defined with large zigzags allowing for a pleasant climb up to the bealach.
Here, we took a hard right up the much steeper ridge onto a shoulder of Na Gruagaichean. Well! It would have been a shoulder if a chunk had not been missing! On the far side of the gap, we encountered ice so it was time to put on our crampons. The last section to the summit was up a great snow slope - you could just imagine yourself to be in the big mountains! Brilliant stuff!
From this top, we descended a very fine ridge to the north-east. It was wonderful under the snow conditions. Furthermore, you could fall off either side - both were 'in-bounds' FMD-wise. Mind you, a fall would not be recommended if you wanted to enjoy any more memorable days such as this one. The climb up the next ridge on to Binnean Mor was not too hard and the fine summit gave us a satisfying climax or high point to the day.
We descended the mountain into Coire nan Laogh by nice soft snow and then annoying heather slopes to reach a stalker's track west of Loch Eilde Mor. From here, this track led back to the track we had originally set out upon first thing that morning. It was a very relaxing finish to our walk.
Back at the lodge, we went for a beer. No draught! Only cans! The owners had been caught out by the fickleness of tourist trade caused by that dreaded FMD - say it quietly and perhaps it will go away!
