Rucksacks Bunkhouse has been standard winter fare for a few years now, and so it was that 12 fully paid up members, 2 skulking satellites and the usual Clampit arrived in Braemar for a weekend of short chilly days and long evenings spent huddled around the warming stove/shite storage heater.
The winter solstice is often a time of reflective meditation – or as is more often the case with some – of doing very little.
And so it was on that Saturday that a venerable gang of four struck out for an early lunch and an easy day up Glen Callater. However, the pleasant stroll predicted, never materialised as Fiona, Alan, Dave and Jake unwittingly stumbled across the Terror of Lochallater. As the incident is presently in production as a Channel 4 documentary, no more can be said than that which is penned by Dave Maclean. Dave is now unfortunately being held in safe place of restraint for the gin-soaked unstable, but his words live on:
Four souls took the met office weather advice
And thought “yes” stroll up the glen, that would be nice
An hour and a half took us up to the bothy
A fine shelter for nosh and some coffee
On the way back , though , we all had to stop
A big bloody footprint gave us all a big shock
And more ! Fiona’s Paramo now covered in blood and puke
Ah no ! that was splatters from last night’s soup.
No sign of a body or a severed foot
How can that be with no-one aboot
Maybe a raptor had plunged from the sky
And taken our poor sod somewhere to die
Nerves now in tatters it’s back to the car
We’ll be needing that pint back in Breamar
The photo does not lie !
Dave
More foolhardy and less wise members admirably ignored the weather warning (the MET is becoming as reliable as Drummond’s alarm clock) and struck out for An Sgarsoch and Carn Ealar. Dan, Natacha,Ray,Lydia, Penny TWD and her ever-complaining appendage – Graeme, were off in the wintery gloom for the Linn of Dee. After about 6 miles of cycling the broad and very cold looking river demanded a detour of bog, peat hag and tussocky nightmare. Carn Ealar was greeted with horizontal blizzard and exhaustion and so on – to An Sgarsoch. More thrutching across broken ground saw the river once again. Graeme deciding that wading the icy depths was far more fun than tripping across the shallows, enjoyed the pleasure of a good soaking. The cycle back was in the dark and all agreed, it had been a challenging day.
Evelyne, not having the advantage of a velocopide, and eshewing motorised aid, struck out for Morrone of Morven. The wind blew with such ferocity that the sanctuary of coffee and cake in Braemar was sought.
There was doubt if the sanctuary of Braemar was ever to be left for Ella, as Drummond buttered his umpteenth piece of toast. However, the day proved long enough for a fine circuit of SgurMor.
Judith, very sensibly struck alone, for An Socah from Baddoch
As is often the case, and as is much to the relief of your dear author, little was written of the weekend then and so little will be recorded now.
Sunday saw Dave, Fiona and Alan ascend a pimple in 20 minutes. Dan, Graeme and Jake perservering a little more to make a fabulous trip in mainly great weather to Morven Lodge and around. Others either fled home directly, were forced back by inclement weather, or decided not to tell anyone what they did (commendable).
Those leaving the southern Cairngorms late that day had an interesting journey home.
It was a tremendous weekend. Great to see new folk coming out for a first time – Lydia, and the return of ancient stalwarts – that’s you Dave, even though you left us too early. (not too early to share the summer fruits of your golden vintage. If that’s 7% Dave…)
And if any of you were able to endure the ramblings of Our Great Leader and actually listened to Heavy’s speech at the dinner last month, it put me in mind of ‘easy’ days out. Doing very little, and taking time doing it, remind us why we love to be out in the truly majestic Scottish hills. Lazy days make hard days worthwhile, and without stopping to smell the flowers, we may as well go to the bloody gym!
Orlando