Day 6 - a cloud inversion and an early finish
I wake as usual before six. All is peaceful, too peaceful, even the sound of the burn is muffled. I open the tent to find I am in thick cloud and can barely even see Sue's tent. I wait half an hour for her to wake unaware she is lying silently in her tent doing the same! I know how important this day is too her. Ben Alder has eluded her on two previous Challenges.
Most recently she had missed it in 2006. After leaving Steve at Corrour station she had battled burns in spate to get to the Bealach Dubh but the weather was too bad to contemplate a solo ascent and she had walked on to Dalwhinnie. When planning our Challenge routes the only hill she had stipulated was Ben Alder. It is her "must have" hill and we had even built in a spare day to ensure she will stand on its summit. After so many clear days to climb it in cloud is disappointing but it would take a hurricane to stop us.
"You never know we might get above it," I offer as consolation, more in hope than expectation.
A glimmer of sunshine on Ben Alder's east ridge
From the Bealach Cumhainn we set off on a bearing over steep, rough ground. Sue is well ahead of me and I follow her silhouette, GPS in hand, checking her bearing. As ever she is spot on. As we climb the mist develops a blue tinge which together with the total silence gives an eerie feel. I'm glad I'm not alone and summons a reserve of energy to draw closer to Sue.
"Look!" shouts Sue pointing at a pale disc in the mist. "The sun!" We both scurry upwards. We are already at 900m and I fear we will run out of ascent before coming out of the cloud but just as I'm losing hope as we gain the summit plateau the mist thins and suddenly we are in bright sunshine. Below us is a sea of white cloud with only the highest peaks peeping through. It looks like a fluffy duvet protecting a slumbering Scotland. I feel we could walk out onto it and over to the Geal-charn ridge without the inconvenience of descending to the col. We have spectacular panoramic views. Except for regular "Wows" we are speechless.
Bheinn Bheoil peeping through the cloud
Having camped so high we are on top of one of Scotland's highest mountains before nine o'clock. Neither of us wants to move. After so many thwarted attempts Ben Alder has turned up trumps for Sue's tenth Challenge. It feels like the mountain gods are rewarding us for all those grey wet days we have endured, even perversely enjoyed, in the past.
We put our tents out to dry and succumb to a second breakfast washed down with more spectacular scenes. The cloud is slowly dropping so lower hills are now visible. Beinn Bheoil and the Drummocter Hills are now identifiable. Looking around the corrie rim we pick out two tiny figures walking over a large snow patch. "I bet that's Ann and Alvar," says Sue and ten minutes later she is proven right. Despite the Thorn's having enough Challenges under their belts to rise to the esteemed rank of vetters I have never yet crossed their path. This is a spectacular place to make their acquaintance.
Ann and Alvar Thorn on Ben Alder
As the inversion begins to break up we walk with Ann and Alvar around the coire rim, marvelling at huge cornices and now privy to a wonderful view of Loch a'Bealach Beithe with Ann and Alvar's tiny tent sitting by its outflow.
Sue walks ahead with Alvar and Ann and I become engrossed in conversations. Not only have our paths not crossed on the Challenge but for a decade we lived only ten miles apart so the steep descent to the col and then the re-ascent are passed with tales of home and past lives. On the final slopes of Beinn Bheoil we meet a couple with day packs relaxing in the sun. They have cycled into Culra and camped. The woman enquires after our large packs.
"We're on the TGO Challenge," I say.
Her eyes light up. "I'd love to do it one day." Ann and I move into Challenge sale pitch mode; it's non competitive nature, the chance to explore wild places and the camaraderie. Her eyes get ever brighter.
"It sounds wonderful," she says looking hopefully at her husband who is politely non-committal but his face sends out a "not in a million years" look.
Alvar and Sue are sitting on the summit cairn admiring the view of Ben Alder's east face when we arrive. We declare it lunch time, more to satiate our desire to stay high than our hunger. I pull out yet another cereal bar but am overwhelmed by a familiar smell emerging from Ann's pack. Bread, the food I miss most when backpacking. I don't carry it as I fear it will crumble and quickly go off but despite three days in her pack it is intact and fresh. Despite my attempts to hide it she recognising the longing in my eyes and offers me a piece - manna on a heavenly day.
On the basis that I can pronounce this mountain I phone control and a cheery Avril Goddard answers.
"How are you doing?"
"Just thought we'd make you feel jealous. We're relaxing in the sun on Beinn Bheoil and we've just had a spectacular cloud inversion on Ben Alder," I enthuse then feeling guilty. "Sorry," I add aware that she and Peter have endured many bad weather Challenges and right at this moment would probably give anything to be sitting here with us.
"Don't worry," she laughs, "you're not the only one rubbing it in. We had a phone call from the top of Ben Nevis yesterday. We're enjoying it here on control." I suspect though that she may be talking through gritted teeth.
Ann and Alvar retrace their steps south to retrieve their tent while Sue and I head off the north ridge. "It's still early. We could walk round Loch Pattack and camp below Geal Charn. Then we could go up and down in the morning and out over the Fara."
"We could," I reply. " but I need a break at Culra first." Suddenly I am aware I am deeply tired, not just weary for today's walk which has been relatively easy but from the accumulated effort of the preceding five hard days. I'm nowhere near as fit as Sue. I'm sure I could get up two hills tomorrow but if I do I fear I'll run out of steam before Montrose. I contemplate going with her just to camp and stay low tomorrow but it seems to add pointless distance and besides we've run out of wine . . .
Sue fording the Allt a'Chaoil-reidhe
We ford the river rather than walk down stream to the bridge. The cold, knee-deep water is wonderfully refreshing. We then sit on a bench outside the bothy drying our feet. It's not yet three o'clock.
"I'm going to stop here and have an easy run into Dalwhinnie tomorrow," I announce. "I need a rest," I add in mitigation. Sue smiles, repacks and moves off.
The beauty of being solo Challengers linking up rather than walking as pair is that we can do whatever we like without offending each other. If we had entered together then either one of us would be struggling up unwanted hills or the other would be ruing their loss but as it is both of us are happy. As she walks into the distance I know I have made the right decision.
An MBA bothy party of two are finishing off some repairs. They are running late and getting a little fractious.
"Can I help?" I offer.
"You can be a northerly gale if you like!"
I am instructed to lean hard on the door to check the new latch and then allowed to be as weak and feeble as I feel and check it opens normally.
I inspect their internal efforts. Since I last visited in 2000 a new stove has been installed as well as bunks. The bothy party has just repainted it. It's now looks smart enough to be a hostel rather than a bothy.
"If you want to get off I sweep it out and clean up," I offer. The MO smiles at me takes in my exhausted state and declines. I limp off to find a good pitch. It's such a fine evening I'd rather camp despite the pristine state of the bothy. As I pick my spot Ann and Alvar ford the river and join me. As we cook supper we have picture post cards views of Ben Alder. Late afternoon light defines its ridges and it is framed in a deep blue sky.
Finally the bothy party leave but before jumping on their bikes the MO comes over and hands over a large slab of fruit cake.
"For offering to sweep out the bothy!" he smiles.
Surprisingly there are no other Challenger's around but two day walkers arrive as Alvar explores the bothy.
"We've been invited to a party," he announces on his return. "Ben Alder was their final Munro." It seems a reasonable excuse to break into the Laphroig I have carried from Lochailort. We spend a pleasant hour swopping hill stories but if they wanted a riotous party they are to be disappointment. Alvar looks at his watch.
"It's past my bed time." We make our excuses. It's past mine too. Eight o'clock now feels like a late night. At home my older kids will be up for another two hours and I expect the five year old is extracting yet another bed time story from her Dad.
Evening sunshine on Ben Alder