The Kylie Protocol, by Big Al 21st October 2004

The Rannoch technique of group hill-walking is well documented. Blood, sweat, and beers. An on-the-hill ‘Death Race’ mentality. Too out of breath for smalltalk. One momentary stop to put a cag on and you are floundering peloton detritus. Most of us become merely JD trailer trash in the fevered dash for the cairn. Throw in some ageism, fattism, racism, sexism, elitism, and not forgetting FAB, FEB, FIB, FOB, and FUBism….et voila! (bloody frogs)…there you have it.

It was noted with some interest however, during Anoif’s Last Munro, attended by a stalwart group of Rannochers, that the Kylies do things somewhat differently…..

….very relaxed, polite well-mannered conversation en route, catching up on the lives and families of long seen club mates. On the hill, waiting for ones slower companions to catch up and positively encouraging a friendly and enjoyable mountain experience…and not even a whiff of competitiveness!…even taking in the view!!….all terribly confusing.

So in late 2003 The Rannoch decided to try an experiment. And let’s face it, you’ve only got to look at Nodrog to see that he’s the product of a bungled genetic experiment….we were going to try The Kylie Protocol!

The team met up in the Tyndrum Little Chef on a cold damp morning and, a bit like the dreadful food, arrived in dribs and drabs, and was very greasy. Incredibly Bish didn’t have anything to eat and hold everyone up…again, all terribly confusing.

From there it was a short pedal-to-the-metal along to Victoria Bridge. There were me and Andy, Bish & Rhona, JD, Chef, Gav, Shaz, Colin and Shandboy. Most of us were keen on a relaxing, enjoyable post-Chrismas hill-day stroll….all except the die hard traditionalist Old School Colin who stormed off up the hill with a bee in his balaclava, and dare I say it, with a point to prove. He stormed off after first using disparaging comments rubbishing everyone else’s old gear with a dismissive “hmmm…very Nineteen Eighties!”….aye very good Colin…just ‘cos you’ve got a new goretex cravat and GPS.

Colin & Shandboy set off like rabbits out of a trap, and JD’s forehead vein gave a little throb as they disappeared away through the forest. There was that familiar manic glint in his eye as if to say…

“ Pah! Easy meat. I’ll get the bastards on the zigzags!”

“Steady JD” I said, “remember….Kylie Protocol today”……

”Oh yeah, I forgot”

So off we set. It was a bit unclear which hill or hills we were doing. A quickie on Stob a’Choire Odhair?….straight up onto Stob Ghabhar?….The Horseshoe?…..ach who cares let’s just plod along and enjoy it.

Xmas smalltalk was the order of the day…JD asked what Santa had brought the boys…

“Rangers fitba’ strips, toy flutes, marching trousers, bowler hats and junior sashes” [OK…so I forgot to mention sectarianism and bigotry!]

“Is that what they asked for?”

“Dunno – who cares….that’s what they got.”

We continued in very civilised fashion, waiting courteously at appropriate places for the team to re-assemble. Shaz and Rhona were falling behind slightly, probably due to low oxygen levels in their muscles because they were chattering at nineteen-to-the-dozen and barely stopping for breath. Obviously they had a lot to catch up on since they last met yet….yesterday!….and since they last

e-mailed…last night!…and since they last texted each other….on the way up here this morning!. Wimmin? What are they like! I ask you!. All very confusing.

Eventually, we got to the stream below where the zigzags up Stob a’Choire Odhair start….Gav seemed unhappy at the prospect of driving all the way from Yorkshire to walk up what he called…(quote)...

“A fucking boring pile of shite”

(unquote)….(tsk tsk not exactly Kylie Protocol there Webmaster!)…so he stormed off up the track towards the col heading to do Stob Ghabhar, which apparently was more worthy of driving all the way from Yorkshire for! The rest of us were quite happy to go fucking-boring-pile-of-shite-bagging as we had all done these hills on several occasions and just wanted a nice relaxing day out hillwalking….a la Kylie Protocol.

Colin and Shandboy were still at the top when we arrived. They were champing at the bit to go on and do Stob Ghabhar. But as the rest of were keen to stop awhile for a hot drink and food break, they ended up just heading over themselves. Good. They would doubtless meet up with Gav, and save us from doing it. The weather at this point was bright but bitterly cold, snowy and very windy. We decided to wait for the wimmin and decide what to do. Very Kylie Protocol. But very cold.

We waited and we waited. The banter and joviality was visibly cooling. We waited and we waited. The frost was biting our extremities. We waited and we waited. The coffee froze in my flask Right that’s it….

Fuck this. Fuck protocol. Let’s head down the pub lads…..thankfully the wimmin were just out of sight (but not out of mind) and we felt justified in sprinting off down the track for a hot soup and a couple of pints. We all met up safely near Clashgour and tootled off to the pub.

So….this Kylie Protocol stuff then….

All very confusing.

Fucking boring pile of shite.

It’s back to The Rannoch Way.

Big Al, 21^st October 2004