Jane, Andrea, Louise and me wot’s writing this, set off from the lodge with the others (who shall remain nameless, cos’ I can’t remember who they were and one 4-legged furry friend. It was decided to follow the old military road in the other direction from those infamously holey pot-holes we’ve all come to know so well. We weren’t too sure where we were heading to at this early stage but agreed that if it was to be uphill then it would be a gentle incline – none of this vertical business, this time.
We had some marvellously panoramic views: Andrea in particular was ecstatic about the snow-capped mountain ranges whilst Lizzie kept her eyes on the ground intent on covering twice the distance as the rest of us but in half the time: talk about excess energy- she ought to be the next candidate for that advert the name of which remains elusive at this moment in time. I can’t remember much about the conversation at this po int but sure was scintillatingly mind-boggling: I think it would be a safe bet to say that the meaning of life came up at some stage. Jane decided that a change of film was desirable (well, people do want to know the infinitesimal details, so I’m told) when some fantastic four footed fellrunning fawns appeared on the distant horizon (baby deer to the ignorant! including the author- they may have been grown up but that would have only served to diminish the alliteration).
At this point the four of us decided that although the views from Creag o’ Mhaim – I think thats how it’s spelt but don’t ask me how to pronounce it – might be incredible we prefered to admire it from where we were – 3000ft lower. So while the others took the high road (ie straight up) we took the lower one and bashed off to the left. The going soon got incredibly tough – the famous five were really up against it. Bogs got bigger and boggier, burns (that is the Scottish for a mega stream, n’est-ce pas) became boistrously broader. 4 legs were definitely better. oblivious to the mud, whilst the human elements of our party sank knee deep at least in this squelchy stuff. The truth of “there’s nothing quite like it for cooling the blood” soon became evident. Yet undaunted they staggered on, attaining the snow line on the edges of and mud wading, Lizzie decided that this was rather stupid and fell asleep – nearly – at Louise’s feet when we stopped to reconnoitre our position and don cags, woolly hats and mitts.
The bitter wind began to howl, so Louise and Lizzie legged it lake and lodge bound, that remained heroically decided to reach that blip even if it killed them, which it nearly did. On they battled, the wind billowing around them as they cut their tracks amidst ice and snow up an in-cre-di-bly steep ascent (well, fairly steep, anyway). The terrain got more and more treacherous – Jane disappeared up to her waist a couple of times – but they did make it up to the top of that blip.
Victorious, they scorned and cursed that nippy wind, huddling together to admire the marvellous views and marvel at the fact that after a mega journey against all odds, the lodge was still in sight!!.
Sandwiches were munched by glove clad frozen fingers until the intrepid trio agreed that it really was too nippy to hang around up there for much longer where shelter proved elusive. So they adventured forth to descend to the beach and a prospective paddle. False summit after false summit came and went as, undeterred, they straddled those frozen gullies and hopped over snow covered bogs. It was agreed that bivvying would cool the blood even further so it was dismissed. Cliffs were scaled even by those afflicted by certain unmentionable phobia as gradually the descent was descended.
Once at Loch Cluanie level deep conversations were embarked upon concerning the suitability surroundings as inspirations to poetic and artistic thought. Photos were taken the windblown they. combed the shore for unique geological specimens (ie rocks): Tim was certainly missing a geo-fisisist’s paradise, but his knowledge was to be called upon later that evening.
Waves bashed the beach with the same vigour as the 3 had bashed the blip, eroding the edge as the trio scoured the count ground : Andrea and Amanda found masses and masses of what was later revealed by Tim to be mica, whilst Jane discovered an incredible example of concentricly-circled sandstone, as well as something resembling angel cake. They battled on through rain, hail, snow and anything else the weather could throw at them: it seemed to have trouble making up its mind, skirting the coastline, galloping actoss gushing gullies and tormentuous torrents as the lodge loomed into view. A terrifying obstacle threatened defeat so near their destination: A seemingly impenetrable barbed wire fence. After much assessing of the situation it was concluded that although it was intended for keeping out wild life (or maybe for keeping it in) the rule could be ignored and brushed aside by the 2-1egged beings. Andrea took the plunge and launched forward on her stomach escaping near certain death by a hair’s breadth. The other two followed her courageous example and barely a minute later they reached the front door. That blip had been well and truly bashed!
It wasn’t just the blip which was bashed either – inside Louise was found vegetables before attacking 13/4 lbs of cheese with the cleaver – no grater was available. Tea, coffee and baths were partaken of by the three blip bashers and even then, one hour later, Louise was still heroically doing battle with the cheddar. Lizzie of course not found wanting in encouragement although her energy had waned somewhat. Not that it stopped her enthusiasm for snapping at anything in sight!
PS It was a pretty high blip, whatever others may persuade you to think!
Amanda.