Carn Dearg (1034m / 3392 ft), Ben Alder Forest
154 Beinn Dearg Thursday 29-12-06
• Red Hill
• Ben Jerrack
The vision of myself perched and relaxed on a chair, glass of whiskey in hand, warmed by the heat and hearty glow of a Bothy fire and in the company of good friends had sustained me through the busy later part of 2006. Roll on the Christmas break that would allow me to flee to the sanctuary of a Bothy and the freedom of the mountains.
Tonight was the realisation of that sustaining vision. We had all assumed the position: chairs placed neatly round the coal burning stove, bums on seats, torsos hinged forward and hands outstretched to receive the glorious heat that wasn't emanating forth. "Curse this fireproof coal!" I muttered under my breath.
For over an hour I had tried and re-tried to ignite the coal briquettes purchased in Perth and carried on our backs with considerable labour from Blair Atholl to Allt Sheicheachan Bothy. A walk of nearly 3 hrs, undertaken in darkness and under the influence of an afternoon's hospitality at the Blair Atholl Bothy Bar. The trudge along the frozen land rover track which climbed steadily over Mooreland bleakened by heavy skies and the light of dusk fading to darkness had been an entertainment in itself but now our chilled bones required the promise of a glowing fire.
Dave rhymed off a list of essential fire lighting points I had failed to observe. Everything from having folded the newspaper incorrectly to having miscalculated the required oxygen requirements of the fire. "Step aside and I'll sort it" he announced. I must confess to a glimmer of satisfaction when an hour later, deflated and defeated he was forced to concur that our briquettes were indeed fireproof. "Ever lasting coal, perpetual non-energy" I announced in an effort to remain cheerful.
I looked at the candles burning in various locations round the room. They gave a tantalising glimpse of the roaring Bothy fire we so desperately needed to prevent the evening descending into an early bed. I looked at the briquettes: smooth soap bar shaped bits of processed coal. It didn't make sense that we had flame and coal and could not produce fire. I had a flash of inspiration. If you can get custard powder to explode in second year Science we could do the same with coal powder! After a flurry of coal bashing, paper lighting and coal dust sprinkling we were left with a pile of coal dust on extinguished newspaper.
I tipped my bottle of Port towards my mug. Empty. My comrades had polished it off as I was busying myself with the fire. I think I had consumed about a single mouthful. My sustaining vision was in danger of evaporating before my eyes. I turned my attention back to the fire and the timber structure of the Bothy. Just how much timber could we remove and leave the Bothy structurally intact? More than enough for a hearty blaze I concluded, however I had left my saw at home. Darn, foiled again. I consoled myself with the fact that sawing major sections of the Bothy away for the purposes of a fire would be in serious breach of the Bothy Code (Rule 4, Sub-Section 3, Paragraph 4).
Feeling in my extremities was now becoming a distant memory, speech amongst my comrades was becoming slurred, we decided to combat this with more alcohol. I fully expected Craig (who had been limping on the way in) to excuse himself with a departing speech of "I'm just popping out for a while, I may be some time..." My mind drifted back in time to the plight of Scott and his comrades, holed up in their blizzard bound tent in the Antarctic and just 16 miles from One Ton Depot...
Suddenly Craig announced "There is somebody out there!" It was half past nine at night and the sun had set five and a half hours ago, who on earth would be turning up at a Bothy at this time of night? I scrutinised Craig's face looking for tell tale signs of a porky pie. I concluded that he was telling the truth and low and behold a few moments later two cyclists from Fife (John and Ian) walked into the Bothy.
Almost immediately they were passing round a bottle of whiskey and had fed the stove with charcoal and fire lighters to which we added our fire proof coal. After a few minutes of high suspense the fire erupted into a virtual Super Nova. The evening then proceeded in a grand fashion with much story telling, mirth and hilarity. Eventually I retired to bed and fell in to a deep and contented sleep to the sound of the rain pattering off the tin roof of the Bothy, a sound I seem to have loved my entire life. Sustaining vision realised. Life is good, I was only kidding when I contemplated sawing you up for a fire, Allt Sheicheachan Bothy, honest.
The next day Craig was still complaining of a sore foot and Dave was still mashed from the night before so only Ian and I ventured out on to the hill (Beinn Dearg - 1008m). The weather was low cloud and light rain and deteriorated to heavy rain/hail and very strong wind as we approached the summit. We spent a good half hour trying to locate the summit in the mist.
We returned to the Bothy and had some tea before making our way back down the land rover track to Blair Atholl. The walk through the conifer forest towards the end of the track was a real highlight, the moon and the stars came out making the last couple of miles on weary feet a real pleasure
Ian and I decided that the whole venture had been so enjoyable that we would go for another Bothy the following week and in honour of John and Ian's bold rescue of our Bothy evening we would do the first leg to the Bothy on bikes.
155. Carn Dearg Friday 06-01-07
• Red Hill
• Carn Jerrack
"I am convinced that man has suffered in his separation from the soil and from other living creatures of the world; the evolution of his intellect has outrun his needs as an animal and as yet he must still, for security, look long at some portion of the earth as it was before he tampered with it."
Gavin Maxwell in his foreword to The Ring of Bright Water.
The Ben Alder Hills have been on my sights for a while though I hadn't realised just how remote they were. Ian and I arrived at Dalwhinnie pleasantly surprised at the weather which was largely sunny but with turbulent showers promising some good light conditions. The only hotel was closed during January as was the hotel at Laggan so we had to motor to Newtonmore to find an Inn that was open. A drink and a game of pool later we motored back to Dalwhinnie for the onset of dusk, grimmer looking weather and the start of out 16k cycle to the Bothy.
The cycle was fine though I struggled with the 80 litre rucksack stuffed full with Bothy gear including a bag of coal. My kip mat was attached to the bottom of the sack and interfered with my saddle whenever I mounted and dismounted and proved to be a real pain on the steep sections where I would normaly cycle standing on the peddals. Trying to get the bike moving again in gear 21 on a steep section was pure comedy, I was glad that my only audience had zoomed on ahead, eager to stretch his legs after a long car journey. The track was fantastic for bikes although on the long rising section leading to Loch Pattack I came off the bike after a dramatic swerve to avoid a drainage ditch and found myself lying on my back looking at the stars unable to get up due to the weight of the rucksack. "Sod it" I thought good excuse to look at the stars for a while...
The track vanished at Loch Pattack, submerged under the loch which was swollen by the persistent rains this winter. We thought we had overcome the worst obsticle (a ford which turned out to be a wobbly pedestrian suspension bridge, its lowest point inches above the water) but were proved wrong when we had to take a dismounted detour across the moor which was scarred by peat hagg and made for some pretty heavy going. At one point I found myself in a deep scar in the hagg slowly sinking into the mire under the load of my rucksack and simultaneously admiring the landscape transformed under the sudden appearance of the moon from behind a bank of cloud. "Sure beats an evening in front of the TV" I remember thinking.
Eventually we found the track again, indicating only a couple of kilometres to the Bothy. Ian with his high performance super lightweight bike (and rucksack with no coal!) sped ahead of me again with two other cyclists we met on the way. I struggled like a novice on a bike over the last undulating section and was greatly relieved to see the Bothy appear in the distance.
A River Runs Through It.
It was at this point one of those extraordinary mountain moments occurred, what my brother John would describe as a Zen Moment. Such moments are the reason that I (and I imagine many others) take the time and the effort to venture into the hills.
I glanced to my left and saw an almost full moon, low on the horizon, emerge rapidly from behind a bank of thick cloud carried along by a strong high wind. I dismounted my bike to watch. At first I was aware of my heavy respiration and fatigue but soon my focus turned to the sound of rushing water from the river yards from my feet which was swollen and in full spate, its surface twinkling with the light of the moon. Slowly a feeling of complete peace overcame me as I surveyed the landscape to the far horizon, the entire vista bathed in soft moonlight. I was captivated and for a brief few moments oblivious to to the passage of time, momentarily I was part of the landscape. It was a feeling I didn't want to let go of, a feeling that time and time aging will bring me back to these remote places to find myself..
Mountains Mirrored in a Still Loch
Mountain Silence, then Salmon Leaps
Mountain Silence Deepens
Ian appeared, on foot and concerned about my whereabouts. I was attempting to take a photograph. I new the digital camera lens could not capture the moment but I tried anyway.
Inside the Bothy we were slightly surprised to find that some "serious" climbers (with some serious kit including a bike that probably cost more than my car) were already preparing to retire to bed. A glance at a wa tch revealed the time to be eight thirty. We prepared a meal and sat quietly eating and drinking a bottle of red wine each to the beautiful light of the Bothy fire. I viewed the whole afair as a gentle de-toxification of the soul. Isn't it great that they have discovered anti-oxidants in red wine?.
The next day we woke to the sound of heavy rain on the roof of the Bothy. Upon rising the weather looked grim. The early beders were still in their bed. The weather improved after breakfast and started to look promising as the sun appeared over the horizon. We climbed Carn Dearg, a fantastic climb in a variety of weather conditions from an initial ascent watching filthy squalls approaching from the west to lunch in a heavy snow fall with almost zero visibility to a final ascent on crunching white snow under a petrol blue sky. One of those great climbs when you don't know what the weather will throw at you next. The early beders were probably still tucked up in their £200 sleeping bags (sleeping soundly knowing they were getting their money's worth)
Back at the Bothy we had some green tea and a bite to eat and Ian eased his aching muscles with the Sun Salutation. We took an alternative route out avoiding Loch Pattack and the Mooreland detour. The ride was so much better without the coal weighing me down and my mat tied up out of the way to avoid it interfering with the saddle. We made great time on the way back, it felt good to zoom by walkers trudging their way down the loch side (that doesn't make me a bad person does it?); we were really grateful that we had brought the bikes and made the effort to make the last couple of days something to remember.
For a much better description of a Zen Moment I would recommend Tom Brown Junior's books The Tracker and The Search, or Carlos Casteneda's description of the Gait of Power in The Journey to Ixtlan. The poem was inspired by Toyo Eicho's poetry anthology Uzenrin Kushu.
Colin Wilson 22-01-07
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