I sleep badly. We are pitched uncomfortably close to the burn and I wake frequently, open the tent and look for the water level on a distinctive quartzite rock. Thankfully the water barely rises an inch and by morning, as the rain begins to lighten, it is dropping again. 

       "Shall we stick together?" suggests Ann. Alan, Sue and I look up at the low leaden grey skies throwing down the final salvos of rain and all nod.  We are all deflated by the sudden turn in the weather, even the normally effervescent Ann.

         Discussion ensues about which side of the Allt a'Chuil gorge to take. There is no path marked on the map but Alan's vetter has told him of a path on the north side though Sue's warned her of washed out gullies.  There is something visible but we are fearful of the gullies and opt for the south side. Alvar leads on what appears to be a path but turns out to be a deer track which abandons us on a steep heathery slope. We head up seeking easier ground but finding thick heather with slippery routes and a few peat hags mixed in.  Despite the rough ground progress is rapid as the Thorns maintain the relentless pace that beat me by Loch Ericht.  Frustratingly there is a clear good stalkers path on the north bank which all of us notice but none mention.  We pass Graham Brookes camped on a heathery knoll at the head of the ravine and presume he was the shadowy figure that had sped past our camp as the light faded last night. 

         As we pass over the broad featureless col we see the cloud, though still steely grey, is now free of Beinn Dearg and the heathery bump of Beinn Breac. The former is on Alan's route, the later on mine and the more distant An Sgorsach and Carn an Fidhlier on Sue's. On most Challenges the weather would be considered good - high cloud, no rain and a gentle cooling breeze. Graham no doubt will be taking in several, if not all, of these hills.

         "Are you going for the Munros," I ask Sue.

         She raises her eyebrows, smiles and then turns resolutely towards the Tarf Water. The company of Challengers today is infinitely preferable to summit bagging for all of us. 

         I anticipate easier going now. Several years ago I was part of a bothy maintenance party at the Tarf Hotel. I had walked out under clear skies on the south bank of the Tarf then over Beinn Dearg. I remember easy going on grassy banks. Well either my memory deceives me or the north side is much tougher going. The ground is tussocky and rough and requires frequent diversions up steep heathery banks at an angle perfectly designed to upset my  ankle. It's almost impossible to settle into a rhythm. By myself I am sure I would be miserable but I have excellent company. Conversation flows, life stories swapped, Challenge anecdotes recounted, gear reviewed and by midday the world is put to rights politically, socially and ecologically. I wonder if the next G8 conference may come up with some credible solutions to the world's problems if the leaders were to be dropped in the middle of nowhere and told to go for a walk.

         As we round a right angle bend we see the Tarf Hotel on the far side. Several years ago I had been on a MBA work party when we had discovered major problems with the roof.  It is good to see it is looking smart and inviting under a brand new one.  It is however across the now wide, fast flowing Tarf and would require a paddle to visit. 

         I'm suddenly aware I desperately need a break.  Alvar is still setting a fast pace and for the last half hour I've intermittently dropped off the back of the group. I'm just about to suggest lunch when he stumbles twice. Ann knows her man well and picks up the first signs of him flagging.

          "We need to stop," she says. "I need to refuel Alvar!" I'm secretly relieved. We huddle under a bank sheltering from a chilly breeze. Like Alvar I hadn't felt hungry but as I tuck into yet another cereal bar I'm aware food is what I need too. I look around and see my weariness reflected in every face.

         We now have a hint of a path which develops into a rough landrover track. My ankle appreciates easier going but it's not to last as it fords the river near the stables then heads towards Forest Lodge. The path marked on the map is to say the least intermittent frequently leaving us stranded on rocky or boggy ground. The previously broad, meandering Tarf now narrows running powerfully over rocky cataracts in an ever deepening ravine which will eventually lead to the falls above its confluence with the Tilt. The intermittent path leads us high on its north bank giving us good views of tomorrow's hills which still look very distant. The path briefly becomes clear then abandons us on a heathery boulder strewn slope above the falls. We spread out looking desperately for signs of it, hoping to spare weary legs, but it's futile and eventually we pick our own way down to the Tilt and the clear path to Fealar Lodge.

         I've walked the bottom ten yards of this path before. In 2004 I had walked up the Tilt with Adrian and Ellen who was then eleven months old. We had a picnic near Forest Lodge then they had returned to Blair Athol. I had walked on aiming for the hills at the head of Glen Ey. I was despondent. Meeting up with Adrian and Ellen had been wonderful but when they left I missed them more than if they had stayed in Yorkshire for the whole Challenge. On top of that I had injured an ankle in a fight with a deer fence a few days earlier and I had nagging doubts about its capacity to finish the Challenge. I had crossed the river and was just about to start the climb when Sue hailed me. We had met for the first time the previous day. I needed company more than I needed hills and soon splashed back across and walked with her to White Bridge. It was the start of a Challenge friendship that led to us walking most of this year's crossing together.

         As I stand once more at the bottom of the climb four years on I am still plagued by the same ankle injury which I now accept will never go away. I still want the company more than the hills but this time I can have my cake and eat as we are all heading in the same direction.

  Gorge of the Allt a'Ghlinne Mhor  

        The steep climb is at least brief and gives stunning views along the gorge of the Allt a'Ghlinne Mhor.   Ann now leads the way as Alvar is flagging again, though not as much as me. The scene becomes surprisingly pastoral, enclosed fields of sheep and gambolling lambs leading us to Fealar Lodge. Five border terriers greet us noisily but no one else seems to be at home. The former laird was legendary for his Challenge hospitality but sadly he passed away a few years ago.

         One more ascent of barely 100m and we'll be looking for a camp. It's the toughest kilometre of the day. All of us are tired but Alvar looks close to exhaustion. He pauses regularly and breathes and audible sigh of relief as we hit the summit of the climb. 

         As Alvar and I join the rest by the Allt a'Ghlinne Bhig Ann give him a concerned look. "Shall we stop here?" she asks. 

          I suspect what he wants most in the world is to stop now but he grits his teeth. "No we'll head over to Glen Ey and have a short day to Braemar tomorrow."

         "See you in Montrose!" waves a cheery Ann as they follow the burn towards the col whilst Sue, Alan and I cross it.

          "We think that spot looks good," says Sue who has been in conference with Alan. She points at a flat looking green patch about 500m away. I have been trying to ignore the same spot in a vain attempt to find a pitch nearby. "Can you make it?" she adds gently. I borrow some of Alvar's grit, nod and pin a smile to my face which I hope convinces Sue more than it does me.

         An hour or so later Sue and I sit in her tent sharing a platypus of red wine. Alan has already retired, engrossed a thriller about a murder in a Scottish bothy. The final walk to the campsite was eased by a refrain of the plot so far. Apparently following the discovery of a burnt body in a bothy a storm has hit the island, all communications are down and a killers on the loose. We both think he's rather brave reading such a book on the Challenge.

         "It's been a hard day but a really good day," reflects Sue as I refill our mugs with the last of the wine. She's right. I hadn't given the day much thought when planning other than the route went pleasingly due east. It was a "getting there" day between two sets of wanted hills. It turned out to be one of the hardest day so far, harder even than Easains. Now the rough ground and exhaustion is behind us our abiding memories are of good company easing a shared struggle.   

  Back                                  Home                              Next