For our walk across Scotland Roy Adames joined Graeme and myself, indeed in many ways he probably caused it. Graeme and I had talked about doing it and when he heard about it Roy asked to join in. This committed us and I don't know if we would have done it without him as the catalyst. We were planning to follow the line of Ronald Turnbull as outlined in his book "Across Scotland on foot" which could involve up to 14 munros and some corbetts. I had as usual spent hours planning and reckoned we could not do any more than twelve. Even at that we would have to be flexible and I had planned easy alternatives on the way. Graeme and Roy left it to me although Roy was very interested in what I was planning. We reckoned he would be the fittest as he is a long distance walker. He, however, was not as confident as he had little experience in hill climbing. Graeme was as unfit as usual. I at least with Roy had had a couple of Sundays practising. The other big problem we worried about was carrying rucsacs. I had just bought a Panther 65 and on the practice runs found the weight and bulk awkward.
The big day arrived and on the Friday evening we finalised the packs. I had split all the common items - tent, stoves, fuel, food etc. and managed to keep my load down to twenty five pounds - mind you I had to dump the fleece jacket to achieve this. Roy on the other hand had his at 30 pounds at least and we spent ages dumping bits. We still ended up with his pack the heaviest - later we found out he had packed about 16 stones of raisins "for nibbling on". Actually it turned out on the trip that he had this peculiar idea that you share items like raisins, chocolate and fruit. All week he kept trying to flog his raisins to us and even to walkers we met. He still came home with 15 stones of them. The other side of the coin was that he expected us to share with him, which meant I had to give him some of my dried mangoes which I have to admit I begrudged him, selfishly as they were about the only food I could enjoyably eat. The other thing about Roy's load was his crazy rucsac. He had borrowed it from a friend, who I think had got it at a flood damage sale run by Noah. It's difficult to describe except that it had an external, tubular frame and looked very uncomfortable. Roy had tried to improve it by a couple of adjustments and webbing and I believe they helped him. But what a contraption, I felt sorry for him though he bore up well - he's a strong fellah.
Off we set, about 10 o'clock, Roy having seen Sylvie off in the afternoon for a holiday in Ireland. Eileen was just glad to have a week's peace. The journey up was uneventful, plenty of rain but nice and quiet. Although I had intended only Graeme and myself to drive Roy was so keen I could not refuse - he turned out to be an excellent, very safe driver. Unfortunately he is a talker and hardly stopped all night so by the time we got to Inverness I was knackered with little sleep. At Inverness in good time, about 8.00. We went to a cafe in the railway station for an average breakfast then a stroll through Inverness. You know I've been to Inverness about three times and each time I don't recognise it, it never seems to be as I remember it. Bought myself some slippers for the tent, very light and only £2 (sale) at Littlewoods. Graeme declined to get some and I think he regretted it later. We also saw some Lord of the Rings stuff in a shop in an arcade, made a mental note for the return.
Back in the car we decided that as we had plenty of time we would drive up to the Aultguish Inn, spy out the lay of the land and leave some gear there. As we passed Garve I noted the position of Ben Wyvis and we started looking for ways down that would suit us tomorrow and also studied the road to give us an idea of what we would have to walk tomorrow. After about five miles I began to think this was a longer walk than I anticipated. After eight miles and going into the wilderness I was convinced we had passed the Inn. This was getting ridiculous, five miles on the road we could walk but eight or more - no. I was about to insist on turning back when Graeme pointed out the dam ahead, which we knew the Inn lay under and sure enough the Inn appeared, all of ten miles from Garve. By now I was in a sweat, no way could we walk ten miles after climbing Ben Wyvis and I was desperately trying to work out alternatives, like camping at the foot of Wyvis. A quick glance at the map when we got to the Inn revealed my yet again colossal stupidity - it wasn't Garve we had to walk from but Garbat which was just five miles down the road. Floods of relief and made even better when a very friendly lady told us no problem about leaving gear. In fact she showed us to our "room" where we left the bulk of stuff, leaving just enough to keep us going from Evanton to the Inn. I was surprised we got a room, I had thought bunkhouses were long dormitories but this was a room with three beds. Well beds and a ropy mattress but good enough for us.
After dumping our gear we drove a few miles up the road to get the lie of the land towards the Fannichs. There was a fence up on the hill, about a hundred yards above the road and running parallel to it which we thought might give us a problem but we noted a gate to help. Now satisfied we knew were we where going we drove back towards Evanton, noting on the way where Garbat was. Evanton turned out to be a sizeable village with the campsite in the village and easy to find. Booking in was a bit of a laugh, the guy in charge being a bit of fun. An old couple behind us asked him if he had any idea of the weather tomorrow. "Och," he says "rain in the morning, turning to sleet and snow later in the day." As the couple looked at him with faces falling he added "You're in luck, I've plenty of thermal underclothes you can buy." "Well," he said, looking at us with a shrug of his shoulders "I'm not doing much good selling summer gear so I've got to try everything." He really was a cheery character and it was a nice site. Extremely well laid out, flat and grassy. The washing facilities were also nice and clean, with free showers, but were in what I can only describe as permanent portacabins. Still it was a good site and to be recommended.
To start us off on the trip we strolled through the village and down to the sea front. This meant we had covered the area from the coast to the campsite. On the way back we met this guy with full rucsac on. Roy, who will chat with anyone, asked him straight out if he was on the coast to coast to which the answer was "yes." It turned out he was taking about ten people on the trip and would be meeting them in the evening when they arrived from Inverness. In the meantime he was doing the same as us, getting in the 1½ miles coast to campsite. He, however, was doing it fully loaded and was carrying over 40 pounds. I don't know how he could do it, but apparently most of the load was food, he was using the real food packs - Wayfarer I think and they are heavy. He did say his group had no plans to climb Ben Wyvis and we got the impression his group was not that experienced. Back at the camp we had spaghetti Bolognese and at this point we had confirmation that Roy cannot cook a meal. It's just something he cannot explain. He will (and over the week did) do anything else but has this thing about cooking. I jibed him at first on this and at first he gave signs of helping. This turned out to be me stirring the pot, turning round to do something and finding Roy stirring the pot exactly as I had done. That was the end of Roy's cooking and for the rest of the week it was me and Graeme. Later on we went down to the local hotel, whose name I have forgotten, for a pint or two. The guy we met earlier was there with his crowd having a meal and pouring over maps. They were having a good time. Apparently they had hired a mini-bus which they would pick up at Poolewe the following Saturday and they decently offered us a lift. We promised to bear it in mind though we expected to be leaving Poolewe on the Friday unless things went wrong. Later in the evening a singer came in, doing a mixture of oldies and Scottish songs, we always seem to get these in pubs. Quite pleasant and with a couple of pints of Guinness a nice start to the trip.
Up at 7.30 with Roy complaining about my snoring. It's nothing I can deny, I know I do it and there's nothing I can do about it. Graeme's got used to it, but it was a problem for Roy. Mind you he is no innocent himself although I have to admit that his snoring, when I heard it , was gentler than mine. We packed with all of the others so it looked like a mass exodus on the coast to coast. Actually one of the campsite officials was telling us that it is getting more and more popular, probably since the issue of the book and the article on it in Trail magazine. He also told us that nearly all walkers started on the road next to the campsite rather than the forest trail recommended in the book. We discovered that the "gang" would be starting this way, as the forest trail sometimes got too muddy so we decided to go the easy way as well. Before this though I had phoned the police to advise them I was leaving my car in the village car park. The young policewoman could not have been friendlier, chatting about the trip and where we were going, makes such a difference when people are nice.
At last we are off and up the road for about three miles then at Redburn Farm a turn off down to the left and onto a track. Quite straightforward and at Cnoc a 'Mhargadaidh where there are alternative routes we went straight on along the track. It's not true that going left or right is the same, as the book says, as the road to the right (i.e. straight on) is much broader and easier. Whatever it took us round the Cnoc and out of the forest onto moorland. A long winding track for a couple of miles slowly going uphill and then we came to a tall barred gate. Why on earth they want to lock a gate in the middle of what appears to be a public track I do not know but it wasn't going to stop us - or anyone else I suspect. As we started to climb it, bits at the bottom started to fall apart and for Graeme and Roy who followed me they were able to come through the gap. Obviously walkers, objecting to the barred gate, had kicked in some of the planks then just lightly replaced them so other walkers could get through. The track then took us down into a pleasant valley rising slowly towards the foot of Ben Wyvis. There were lots of camping spots and if we had known how good they were, and so close to Evanton, we could have used one. Would have been free and would have saved us a few miles on the first day. Pity. After a while the path petered out and it got difficult. Great tummocks, bog, heather, a really rough walk and very tiring, making slowly but surely towards the foot of the mountain. As we were not making great progress we had an early lunch and filled the water containers. This was the first time I've had to do this and it don't half make a difference to the load. The water, however, tasted nice.
Up again and on towards an obvious ridge we felt would ease the passage up. I'm sure it was the best way. Graeme was really having problems again with his heels and falling way behind. On the hill Roy also was flagging and I went way ahead [this was the last time in the week I led, I have to say]. Gradually we made it up onto the rounded slopes of An Socath, one of Ben Wyvis's tops. Graeme when he arrived thought this was the summit and was unwilling to go any further. However there was now a very clear and easy path up to the summit so I left him and Roy to fend for themselves. Roy followed and Graeme did afterwards and when we reached the summit, only a few minutes later Graeme was able to sort himself out. By now the wind was blowing a howling gale and it was cold, you could easily understand why there was still a snow patch at the summit. Roy pointed out a crowd of people coming up towards the summit from another top and we reckoned it must be the crowd from the campsite. They had planned to camp in the corrie below and probably had time to come up, leaving rucsacs down below. We never found out for sure as we left long before they reached us. Again the path was clear but the mist, threatening all day, had come down and it was pouring. With the gale blowing the rain was again like horizontal hailstones. Got slightly worried as the path seemed to go on along the ridge forever, but eventually turned and made its way down a nose of the mountain. When we had studied this route from the road the previous day this descent looked vertical but once you are on it, it is easy and took us down easily. Well, not that easy as when the path stopped and you had to make your own path down I went tumbling. I was in the lead doing great when my feet went from me. I tumbled over a couple of times and felt my knee twist sharply. Roy was on me like a flash thinking I was on my way to tumbling down the whole mountain. Graeme and I slip all the time on descents but it is a bit more dodgy when you are carrying a full pack. I sat there for a few minutes and the pain went down so tentatively I started off again. In a few minutes the knee loosened up and but for a little stiffness seemed fine. Funny it should be me to go down first as it is the descents that Roy feared most. He has had problems in the past with his knees, though mainly on rocky slopes. This was grass so he was OK. At the bottom of the main ridge we had the choice of going straight down which would have led to the road about half a kilometre from Garbat. The others reckoned that if we cut across to the right, through a forest we could save time. I wasn't objecting so off we went through the field and to the forest, having worked out the route ahead. But when we got into the forest all changed and firebreaks were all around. All I could remember was that from above our route appeared to run in a straight line from the path in the field and although there was no path in the forest I insisted on following this direction. Mind you I was not at all confident I had the right route and was mightily relieved when eventually we broke out onto a path, which eventually wound its way to Garbat and the road.
Now all desperately tired, thinking of the four/five mile walk still to go Roy offered us some of his Kendal Mint cake. I've never really fancied the stuff but I have to admit it tasted delicious and revived my flagging spirits - well, for five minutes anyway. The walk to the Inn was tortuous and, something we had not noticed when driving, was uphill the whole way. Every bend, I thought, will lead us downhill, but no it still went up. Roy was in his element on the road and went miles ahead. Graeme on the other hand was nearly dead and at one stage had to stop and rest. I began to wonder if he would make it at all. Halfway up one stretch a cow wandered onto the road and we had the pleasure of watching Roy try to control all the traffic waving his stick at every car passing. I'm sure they all wondered at this strange character, probably thought he was an eccentric shepherd.
Incredibly we made it to the Inn. Roy was all for having a bath before eating - Graeme and I just looked at him. We didn't give two hoots about being clean, we just wanted to sit down, relax and eat. Roy talked, quite rightly about how a bath makes you feel great and relaxed but we noticed he didn't bother and after that we all happily just stank together. We at least got into different clothes and I wore my slippers, quite comfortable. Graeme's feet were in a right mess but just to get his boots off was heaven. The Inn was not very full, just two or three tables taken and most of the people at the bar seemed to be staff. From what we could work out there had just been a change of ownership of the Inn and the lady sitting in an armchair near the bar sounded as if she would be the new manager. You got the impression the bar staff were not too sure where they stood with this lady and the laughter seemed a bit artificial and forced. The barman in particular who was a Gaelic speaker kept laughing his head off but it didn't feel right. We all had chicken fillets, about the only item on the menu we fancied. It was OK but I have had better meals, and it was expensive at £6.50, I think. A couple of Guinness's, the last for a few days, and a pleasant evening reminiscing over the day. We also talked about the oil rigs at Evanton. Apparently the Cromarty Firth is where they bring oil rigs in for repair and when we got there, there were about six of them. A bit eerie as they look like Tripods or War of the Worlds machines. An early night, breakfast booked and back to the bunkhouse where all our clothes were steaming on every spare bit of space, all soaking wet. Lovely view of Ben Wyvis from the window which made us wonder if we could simply have walked direct off the mountain to the Inn, probably not. [Forgot to mention we congratulated Roy at the summit, having done his first munro.]
