The Black Dog vs the Dalai Lama

It all started late one dull Saturday. I had planned to head to the hills, but there was stuff to be done, important stuff. I don’t recall it all now but there was certainly a glow-in-the-dark jigsaw and a game of gruffalo snap in there. I’d procrastinated like a champion, putting off the departure, ostensibly because I was waiting for the right time and and weather window, but in reality because I was having fun with the kids and just didn’t fancy another rain packed trip.

Eventually I ran out of time and had to go or call it bust. I went. With the hour so late my options were limited unless I fancied a lot of night nav practice. I plumped for Loch Tay, because it was a short drive and some of that was up the hill itself. The Lawers car park may be slightly lower than the old visitor centre, but it’s still a decent head-start.

It was 5pm when I set off from the car, got through the forestry gate and put the foot down on the proverbial gas and nothing happened. Clunk, splutter; my tank was empty. I was burst.

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Like a balding lanky Eeyore, I plodded slowly uphill. The internal discussion was far from positive: I shouldn’t have skipped my gym visits. My pack was too heavy. I was too tired. I’d not had enough coffee. The weather was dull again. I’d packed kit for September and it was October. I’d forgotten my mitts.  I tried setting up the camera and the shot it took when I triggered the timer showed a far from happy face.

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An hour and a bit after leaving the car I entered the cloud base around the bealach below Meall Corranaich. I was back in the territory I’d been in for one too many trips. The prospect of night in a soggy tent with no view loomed again. Meanwhile, an hour away was a cosy living room with the log burner roaring and a glass of red warming gently.

There is a saying in the rad gnarly dude community: “Go hard or go home”

I went home.

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Exactly one week later and one hour earlier (I think that makes sense) I was stood in the same Lawers car park. The sun shone, my pack was crammed with October type equipment. I was fully caffeinated and raring to go. What a difference a week makes. I was back and the game was afoot.

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I stomped uphill at a decent pace, my load seemingly light and well balanced despite carrying more than the week before.  I was interrupted regularly in a pleasant way by bantering with the folks who were heading down. Hats off to the two lads who passed the time of day and then gently suggested it was a bit late to be heading up. It’s nice to see some well-meaning people who are looking out for fellow hill-goers, but not being the mountain police at the same time. I explained that despite only carrying a wee bag, I was up for the night. The couple I met at the bealach were suitably enthused at the prospect, the bloke in particular looked a bit gutted to be going down.

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My last bit of human contact for the night was a runner I bumped into as I came round into the coire behind Beinn Ghlas. He suggested the clear sky meant it would be getting cold pretty quickly when the sun dipped. I felt slightly smug for having a pack stuffed with down and primaloft.

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I checked the watch and carried on, either the sun had slowed down or I was actually making decent time for a change. I popped up onto the summit of Ben Lawers just as the sun was heading down, the timing couldn’t have been better.

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As soon as I stepped up the the summit and over onto the East side, the wind hit me hard in the face like a drunk weegie with a spilled pint. I staggered back several steps involuntarily and it was still and sunny again. I braced myself and stepped up for another belt in the chops,  it was roaring up from Lochan na cat with incredible force.

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I made my way carefully at about a 30 degree left lean over to the rocky bit to the south of the top to check out prospective campsites. There were a couple of good spots, but they were being seriously battered by the wind. The cooling effect was severe.  I weighed up the options, considering I was carrying an unfamiliar tent and limited spare guys, it was probably wise to go for a more sheltered pitch. I waltzed like a drunken sailor back to the summit and dropped down towards Beinn Ghlas.

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I tried a few spots on the way, but eventually plumped for the bealach, mainly due to proximity to water and general shelter. The wind gusted occasionally round the corner, but only with a fraction of the force that I’d experienced up top.  I popped the tent up, and got a brew on. My new home was pleasantly spacious and well appointed. Despite the warning issued by the runner bloke I’d met earlier, the temperature didn’t plummet too far. I was pleasantly warm with just my walking kit on. I stood scoffing noodles while the moon traced a lazy trail in the sky.

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While much of the country was watching  X-Factor, I wandered around my mountain home and found some nooks and crannies to investigate. After a couple of hours the wind started to pick up. It was moving round the ridge to the east and started to gust pretty hard. I took a wander up Beinn Ghlas in an effort to find a mobile signal to send an ‘all well’ message home and as soon as I got 100 meters from the tent, the wind came barreling in like a prop forward and nearly dunched me off my feet. It would seem that my sheltered wee bealach really was keeping the worst off, but it was still getting some action.  I messaged home quickly then dove back down to the tent.

I made some efforts to get some long-exposure star shots, but the wind was just too fierce and jostled the tripod relentlessly, so I ended up with a bunch of  shots of blurry star fields and a glowing blurry tent.

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I made some adjustments to the tent and then bedded down for the night. The wind did it’s best to kick me in the head every ten minutes or so, in an effort to keep me from nodding off. I’m not the most talented individual, but if there’s one skill I do have, it’s sleeping, so after a bit I managed to ignore it and get some shut eye.

Come morning, the sunrise was gentle and mainly hidden behind Ben Lawers. I did consider scooting back up the hill to check it out, but in the end porridge and coffee had more appeal.

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I packed up at a leisurely pace and then headed back up Beinn Ghlas. I stopped at the top to take a couple of shots and then an unfortunate event occurred, of which I will speak more later.

I wound my way back down and chatted to the early shift as they clocked in. I met a fantastic couple of blokes, one of whom said he’d not been there in over 30 years and what the hell happened to the visitor centre? I explained it’s demolition and was rewarded with splendid diatribe:

“they’ve put in all this forestry to make money”

“there’s parking meters in the car park.  Somebody should take a sledgehammer to them”

“bastards”

I couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. It’s nice to see that the old school climbers I grew up with are still out there doing their thing.

I returned to the car and met another chap who was just gearing up and was wondering what it was like up top. We blethered for a bit and he filled me in that he was in his late seventies but still liked to get into the hills when he could and how he would come to Dunblane to visit a friend who was in a nursing home there. I said I’d keep an eye out for him, I’ll bet he’s got some stories. If I’m still hitting the hills at his age I’ll be well happy.

I told him it was breezy, so he went back to the car and fetched a fleece, then I watched as he plugged his ears with cotton wool, pulled his toorie down tight and set off uphill.

Faith in humanity restored.

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13 Comments

  1. hoo ray, up she rises…

    banter can make the trip sometimes can’t it? faith in blogging and photees on hill restored too. Nice one.

  2. Jeezoh brither, a nearly went hame after scrolling to see that second photie. Talks aboot scary, is that the new Hal’een mask?

    Great post and great photos as always 🙂

  3. Nice one Tookie, the really scary bit is that there was another shot I could have used but it was worse, so I chose not to inflict it on you. Now I might have to…

    Thanks all for the kind words.

  4. Great blog. I look forward to reading your snappy writing and great photos. At 75 years I don’t get out as much as I once did. So I join you in spirit. Scotland looks like a magnificent land.

  5. Thats fine mountain terrain to walk and camp on Michael. Photos as always top draw, and your sticking in there to find a sheltered spot paid off with a great night in the hills.

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