Day 4 - 1 tramway, 2 Easains and 8 cyclists
Before breakfast we dismantle the temporary laundry and attempt to return our room to its previous spotless condition. Clean clothes, dry tents and a superb breakfast put a spring in our steps and we seem to float effortlessly along the minor road to Choirchoille.
It's a pleasant pastoral walk, lambs gambolling in the fields interspersed with lush deciduous woodlands. Once on more open ground we head up to the "Puggy Line". This old tramway was built to service the Loch Trieg reservoir. Most of the timbers have rotted away but the route is clear and the occasional ravines where all that remains of the bridges is bare girders are easily crossed as the burns are remarkably low.
We've already got nine miles in our legs and now we are faced with an 800m ascent. As usual Sue is faster than me going uphill but I'm gratified I'm not as far behind as last year and not puffing as much as I was on Gulvain. After a bit of pathless heather bashing we soon find the Munrobagger's path. Although it is boggy and eroded we are grateful as it weaves an intricate route through the rocks of Meal Cian Dearg which would otherwise be quite an obstacle. We are greeted by a strong, cold easterly wind and magnificently clear views. We look at each other, broad grins sufficing as words are carried away. The windswept dry tundra makes for easy walking up the long ridge until we reach a large snow patch.
Snow patches on south ridge of Stob Coire Mheadhoin Our grins get even broader, it is soft enough and at an easy enough angle to have some fun. Six day walkers think the same as they run down though the sudden steepening at the bottom makes them all put the brakes on like cartoon characters. Kicking steps up is a little slower and I can now feel the exertions of the day but the snow deposits us virtually on the summit of Stob Coire Mheadhoin. We look back over our route to a very distant Spean bridge.
Snow field on Stob Coire Mheadhoin In what feels like only a few moments we are standing on our second summit, Stob Coire Easain taking in an even more impressive view over a plethora of remote hills. Our grins if anything get broader convincing a pair of middle aged men with whom we share the summit that we are utterly mad.
Sue and me on Stob Coire Easain Up until now the day has felt like a dream. Thirteen miles and two Munros seem to have floated by but the day is far from finished. Reality sets in on the decent. On the map the east ridge looks well defined but on the ground the rock strata cuts across the ridge making for many frustrating ups and downs and ins and outs. The ground gradually steepens crunching knees and toes and the glen bottom doesn't seem to get any closer. Sue starts talking to the plentiful frogs partly as excuse for a rest, partly because I've become somewhat mute as I concentrate on preserving my dodgy ankle. Finally we reach the bottom but our tribulations are not over. The path is far from clear and appears to cling desperately to the top of a deep ravine. We opt for more pathless heather bashing. Finally we arrive at Creaguaineach Lodge where we, well at least I, hope to call an end to the day. There is wonderful flat grass, as Pauline had pointed out from the train, but absolutely no running water. We trudge over the vertiginous bridge and flop on the first convenient spot.
Creaguaineach Lodge at the head of Loch Treig "We can make it to those good pitches by the railway. It's only a couple of miles and it'll shorten tomorrow," says Sue. I smile weakly. I know she's right but my legs don't want to move. We're out the wind here, the sun is still warm. It's seven o'clock. I have a strong desire to sleep. Sue recognises I need to rest. "Let's eat something and have a break," she offers gently. I nod and delve in my pack for the emergency goodies - raspberries covered in white chocolate. The smooth sweet chocolate melts on my tongue followed by the refreshingly tart berries. I begin to feel better. It is such a beautiful evening. Both of us are content to linger and there's quite an entertaining show on the bridge. One by one a group of eight mountain bikers arrive. They each peer into the deep water of the Abhainn Rath some twenty feet below the railless bridge. Most, at the first wobble, dismount but one bravely continues. Sue and I hold our breath as he teeters precariously across. The majority cycle by us, grim faced, without a word. They all look sweat, tired and fed up. One though is smiling and stops to talk. "Are you enjoying yourselves?" asks Sue mischievously. He laughs "It's something different. We meet up every year and either go walking or road cycling. We thought we'd combine them this year. Never again!" Revitalized we take to the good track along Loch Trieg. We upset the cyclists further by keeping pace with them for the first kilometre. We pause briefly to talk to Gordon Booth and Sheila Knagg who are camped by the loch. They had started with us in Lochailort where I had given Sheila some migraine tablets. I am glad to see she is fully recovered. All that remains is a long pull up towards the railway. I remember coming this way on my first Challenge in 2000. Then I was equally exhausted after a long day on the Mamores and was trailing my friend Kate who had joined me for a few days. This time Sue is soon out of sight as I toil up the most punishing 100m ascent of the day. The sight of green swathes beside the Allt na Rhuirdh however soon put the grin back on my face. It has been a wonderful, wonderful day. Can it get any better?
A well earned cup of tea 
Deciduous woods by the River Spean
Remains of the Puggy Line
