Rannoch Mountaineering Club 

www.climbrannoch.co.uk

Size Matters (As I learned at the Rannoch Bothy Meet, 2004)  by Shaz

 (Official information, Shaz is an Official Non-Member)

It was my first Bothy Meet so, naturally, I was a bit apprehensive and nervous about it all.  As it turned out, however, all my fears were totally justified.  The good thing about it was that, despite it being my first time, at no time was I made to feel that my relative inexperience was an issue.  Good advice was readily forthcoming throughout the weekend from the more experienced members of the group (i.e. everyone) and always given in a supportive and non-judgemental way…..NOT! 

The trouble with trying to write up the Bothy Meet, is knowing where to start….. 

After a number of last minute changes of plan in the days leading up to the event, the final, final arrangement was that I would drive up by myself on Friday night and Rhona would drive up and meet up with everyone at the Bothy on Saturday.  As luck would have it though, I bumped into JD by chance on Friday afternoon and managed to skillfully manipulate him into offering to arrange for me to get a lift up with him and Wee Al in C's car.  Further skillful manipulation resulted in JD picking me up at home which meant that I would not have to do any driving at all.  Don't you just love it when a plan comes together. 

The plan was to drive up and meet C at Tyndrum at 7.45pm, however, we managed to get there in half the time which meant that we were able to have a couple of drinks in the pub before C arrived.  He was late and I was beginning to panic that there might have been a last minute change of plan of which we had not been notified.  This has been known to happen. 

Because of the ever-changing arrangements, I was now booked into a twin bedded bunk room in the Trekkers Lodge which I was supposed to have been sharing with Rhona.  This meant that I could end up sharing with a complete stranger.  However, we discussed this in the car on the way up and I decided that I would rather take my chances with a stranger than have to share with any of the Rannoch men.  As it turned out, I had the room to myself - even better. 

On arrival at Kintail Lodge Hotel, we met up with the rest of the team - Big Al, Wee Iain, Nodrog, Anoif, Nick and Andy.  We all had a drink in the bar then retired to the Wee Bunkhouse for a night cap.  A fairly early night ensued in preparation for the long day ahead and my last thought before I went to sleep was how much I was looking forward to my cooked breakfast in the hotel the next day. 

I got up early and strolled down to the hotel, wondering what I would order for breakfast ……met C in the car park looking at his watch with the engine running.  We were off. 

As we headed off in the car to the start of the walk in, I began to feel sick (and it wasn't just the lack of food).  What had I let myself in for?  There I was, 5'0", an inexperienced walker, about to set off on a 3 hour walk in, carrying a rucksack that I could not actually lift onto my own back without help, with arguably the most competitive (and tallest) section of the Rannoch - and no Rhona to keep me company this time…..and on an empty stomach. 

I was particularly concerned about the size and weight of my rucksack. I decided before setting off to have another check through it so see if there was anything I could possibly leave behind in order to lighten the load.  But no, I had been completely ruthless in packing it the first time and it contained only the most essential items, so there was nothing more I could do.   

One of the men very kindly lifted (with some difficulty) my rucksack onto my back and I set off with the advance party – C, JD, Wee Al, Nick and Andy.  I managed to keep up with the blistering pace for a good three yards, then I was on my own.  I wasn’t too concerned however as I knew that there was another group behind me who had started later and that, eventually, they would catch up and I would once again have company.  They overtook me about half an hour later and disappeared off into the distance, pausing only momentarily to comment on how big and heavy my rucksack looked – cheers lads. 

However, I was fortunate that one of the members of this party was Anoif who walked with me the rest of the way, offering moral support, encouragement and advice throughout (well seen she not a member of The Rannoch but the more refined Kyle Club).  I did confess to her that there was one item in my rucksack which I could possibly have done without – a flask of coffee.  She suggested that I could lighten the load slightly by leaving the flask by the side of the path and collecting it on the way out.  A good idea I thought and every little helps, so this is what we did. 

The rest of the walk in was long and hard and steep.  By the time we got to the Bothy, C, Wee Al, Nick and Andy had already set off for the two Munros in the vicinity and Big Al, Wee Iain, Nodrog and JD were about to set off for Beinn Dronaig, the neighbouring Corbett.  Anoif and I decided to give both options a miss and remain at the Bothy.  We took the opportunity of a last chance of privacy to freshen up and Anoif, conscious of the importance of ‘glamour’ at these events, boiled up 10 pots of water using the assorted stoves that were conveniently lying around so that she could WASH HER HAIR!  She seemed concerned that she might possibly be ridiculed for this action by the menfolk, however I assured her that her secret would be safe with me.  Hopefully no-one had to go without their dinner because the gas for their stove had run out.  

Much later, everyone arrived back from their walk and Anoif managed to get a good fire going in the bothy which had been freezing up till then.  The drink had already started to flow and the banter was starting to trickle. 

There had been some discussion about the unnatural weight of my rucksack compared to everyone else’s.  In examining the contents, the general consensus seemed to be that it wasn’t that I had brought in too much stuff, but rather that everything  I had brought in was incredibly heavy – heavy sleeping bag, heavy carry mat, heavy pots, heavy cutlery, etc, etc.  Apparently, not only does size matter, but weight too and ideally what you should be aiming for is something that starts off small but grows in size when you pull it out and give it a shake.   It is amazing what a girl can learn at a bothy meet.  So items such as down filled duvet jackets which can be stored in a bag the size of a matchbox but which are transformed into a full-sized insulated padded jacked just by shaking them are good, as are down filled sleeping bags (same principal) and light weight pots, pans, kettles and cutlery (as opposed to the heavier alternatives which I had brought).   In fact, it soon became clear that the only thing standing between me and a manageable rucksack for future bothy meets was a mere three grand. 

This was all very well, BUT WHERE WAS RHONA? 

The last time anyone had heard from her, she had been at Fort William (shopping).  She was expected to set off on the walk in at around 4.30pm.  Both JD and Anoif (is there no end to this woman's generosity) had offered to walk out part of the way to meet her.  They set off around 5pm. 

Meanwhile, back at the bothy, things were hotting up - or rather they would have been if someone (who shall remain nameless, namely Colin) didn't keep walking out and leaving the door open.  After the sixth or seventh time, someone (who shall remain nameless, namely Wee Iain) shouted (rather rudely I thought), 'Will you shut the f***ing door!'  Just as C pushed the door gently shut, I don't know what happened, but I suspect a strong gust of wind caught the door just at that moment for it slammed shut with a very loud bang.  Now, some uncharitable people have suggested that Colin had actually slammed the door shut deliberately in a fit of temper, but I find it very hard to believe that he would be capable of such an immature act.  Anyway, it was all soon water under the bridge, or rather water under the table, when Nodrog knocked over a full pot of water which had been sitting on a stove.  I suspect that it may have already been slightly unstabilised by the vibrations from the earlier door slamming incident.

This was all very entertaining - BUT WHERE THE HELL WAS RHONA?? 

I was beginnning to get hungry when I suddenly remembered that, at some point in the confusion of ever-changing arrangements, I may have said that I would carry in the food for both Rhona and myself.  If this was the case, I had completely forgotten this up till now and had only brought in enough food for one.  I decided that the only solution was to eat all the food prior to Rhona's arrival lest I be required to share. 

Finally, JD and Anoif returned from their mission - BUT WHERE WAS RHONA??? 

They had walked out pretty damn far and waited and waited and waited - but no sign of Rhona.   Uneasy silence.  There were a few comments that everything would be okay and that Rhona was a big girl.  I tried to protest that she was only a size 12 reg, but no-one believed me. 

Just then, Nick came in and said that he had seen a head torch.  In a most unrannoch-like gesture, some of the men got kitted up and set off to meet her - at least they would be able to help carry in her rucksack for the remainder of the journey (what's she got that I haven't?)  After an interminable wait, they all arrived back….with Rhona…..and Fiona.  What a fuss - with Rhona getting an inordinate amount of attention.  Even Big Al offered her a drink out of his last can of Stella which just goes to prove the seriousness of the situation.

The rest of the evening was a flurry/frenzy of happy banter - some new, mostly old.  There was even a Hill-Billy floor show courtesy of Nodrog and Anoif, with a sneak preview of the new Banjorock album and some ABBA thrown in for good measure.  Big Al, having drunk his last can, spent the rest of the evening offering sexual favours to anyone, male or female, who was willing to pass on any spare cans.  Needless to say, he sloped off early when no drink was forthcoming.

All in all, an eventful weekend.  The walkout was just as long and just as arduous, only this time the driving rain added to to the challenge of the previous day.  Searched frantically on the way back for the discarded flask but later discovered that Anoif had thoughtfully placed it in a carrier bag in the middle of the path so that it could not be missed.  It was missed.  Will add it to my Cotswalds shopping list.

Breathed a sigh of relief when we got back to the car, changed and set off on the journey home, secure in the knowledge that nothing else could go wrong now…but that's another story.

Shaz, 15 November 2004