Rannoch Mountaineering Club 

www.climbrannoch.co.uk

Battle of Sheriffmuir, by Rannoch Babe Rhona, June '04

The Cainwell (19), Carn a Geidh (20) and Carn Aosda (21) - June 2004

The A-team are back.  Those top hill girls with their high tech gear and 'right' labels are back on track for the first 60.  What better than the maximum points with minimum effort option.  Could they at last snatch victory from the jaws of defeat?  An uneventful drive up to Perth nearly descended into total chaos when the team was confronted by road signs obscured by bin bags.  The correct route was selected in the nick of time after a few moments dredging dark and hazy memories of GUM club mini bus trips to the Cairngorms.  Laughing smugly we sped north on the right road, taunting the efforts of local vandals to thwart our progress.  A yellow sign by the road-side slipped past.  We carried on then….

"That sign, did it say something about the road being closed?"

"Yes I though that too"

Needless to say, we carried on, thinking about those earlier road signs.  Maybe defeat was about to be snatched from the jaws of victory.  "We could always walk from where the road is closed, as they used to do in the old days".  Another sign - this one said 'no road markings for six miles' but the road was covered in markings. All was clear, the signs were all meaningless, red herrings, we could safely ignore them all. Secure in that knowledge we headed north and arrived at the Glenshee car-park without further ado.

No buses, no operative chair-lifts but the air was still thick with diesel, not sure how that works but it spurred us on to the hills before we were overcome.  Where to start. We thought the path would be obvious, but it was clearly a case of picking a spot to leave the road and going for it directly up the front of the hill.  At a blistering pace we covered the ground and found ourselves on the summit ridge then the summit. Not even an hour out of the car. Must be a record. 'Hey we're not so unfit after all, lets finish off these three then do the six across the road too', Says Shaz.  The top was like a scene from Stalag 17 - pylons, cables, corrugated iron, barbed wire all with the wind whistling through which served to add to the feeling of desolation.  At least the photos would be a bit different from the usual scenic trig-point / cairn affairs.  A brief stop here as we watched the storm clouds scudding in, quickly obscuring the fresh snow on the northern Cairngorms.  The wind strengthened and we were soon battered by hailstones.  Good job we'd brought our waterproofs , pity they were buried so deeply in our sacks.  Except for Shaz who in a new order of hilltop efficiency whipped hers out from a secret compartment, then spent the next 20 minutes retrieving the storm blown contents of my rucksack. 

Carn a Geidh had seemed a fair distance from the top of the Cairnwell but the terrain looked relatively flat. Now we could see nothing bar hailstones.  Trusting our unerring judgment we set off for the top, managing to fit in morning coffee and lunch before we made it.  Then a quick sprint back over to Carn Aosda before descending back to the car to do the 'other six'.  Most definitely the easiest ticks we've ever done.  Time for a drink to celebrate our achievement.  We headed down to those well known ski circuit party-bars. Screeching to a halt at the first bar we found a sign welcoming coffee drinkers but offering no alcohol. What? In a bar in Scotland? The next well -known pub was closed, totally closed, for ever. We'd just need to keep going with our tongues stuck to the roof of our mouths.  Knew I should have packed those bottles of beers.  Finally drew up outside a less than salubrious looking joint in Guildtown. Needs must so in we went, a quick fight through the smoking, overweight crowds got us a drink, which we had the choice of consuming amongst happy eaters in the lounge or throngs of smokers and loud TVs in the public bar.  It was then that we realised that it was Father's Day and that every father in the area was out for a meal with their family.  Good job we'd left those presents in an easily visible place. Time to leave quickly and find a better place to eat. 

"I know a good place in Sheriffmuir" says Shaz

So off we went once again, passing a yellow sign telling us that the road was currently definitely closed.  The good place looked good from the outside and even better from the inside. Placed our order and were met with usual 'sorry unavailable'.  Another option was offered so we, unimaginatively, asked for two of the same, ordered our drinks and sat back in blissful anticipation.  No drinks. Getting agitated. Where's our drinks.  Managed to flag down a harassed waiter and get our drinks delivered.  Now beginning to feel a frisson of anxiety.  Diners = 4, waiters/waitresses = 11, computers = 1, computer gurus = 11 (aka waiter/esses). Why harassed?  Nae worries, grubs up. Oh, two different dishes - 'that's what you asked for madam'. Luckily we are assertive and let them know who exactly was wrong, must be the stress of so many orders all going in at once. Soon sorted out. The chef came out and apologised telling us that the waiter was a f******g eejit.  Glad we knew that.  The staff got together to discuss the error within yards of our seats. Fortunately for them we had no scars to bare and weren't really in the mood for trouble or it could have degenerated into the annual Rannoch meets hospitality showdown. We left. Nae tip. Nae battle either Tough luck for them and another establishment off the list.

Rhona, June '04