Sunny Side Up, Shaz, 27 April 2004

After the weeks of meticulous planning and preparation which was to allow Rhona and I to be absent from our domestic responsibilities for a whole weekend, Friday morning 10 o’clock found me sitting on a mound of rucksacks, cool bags, and tupperwear boxes at the gates to Shaz Manor in a town in north Stirlingshire. A flurry (or was it a frenzy?) of text messages assured me that the McAramobile was packed and ready to go – but, unfortunately, Bish had packed and gone AWOL. Being a very flexible and laid back person, I was not unduly perturbed by this news.

A short hour later, my chariot arrived. After much unpacking, packing, re-packing and redistribution of rucksacks, cool bags and tupperware boxes in the car, we were on our way.

It had been decided that it would be wise to get ahead of the game by getting one M-point in the bag on the Friday - just in case it all went horribly wrong over the weekend. Geall Charn, Glen Markie was our target. Rhona’s new boots proved to be more than up to the job and, despite our 2pm, slightly later than planned start, by early evening we were back at the car and R was one step closer to completing her 60 M challenge.

Heady with her success, Rhona decided to celebrate with a dip in the river. The fact that she had forgotten to pack her swimming cossy was not an issue as there was no-one around to bother about except her husband, a close female friend and a few bewildered deer – no-one would know or care (photos to follow).

After tea at Aviemore, we were heading for the pre-arranged rendezvous at Kinlochewe. A frenzy (or was it a flurry?) of phone calls suggested that it was now likely that we would be the last to arrive which would have been slightly embarrassing since Rhona had previously made such a fuss about us not having to wait around for the keyholder to arrive.

Miraculously (was there ever any doubt?), the whole team (Mary, Andy, JD, R, Bish, S, C, Big Al, Wee Al, Hutch) all arrived within an hour or so of each other and headed off in convoy to the Ling Hut. Not having much to carry, the boys headed off on foot from the car park and arrived first at the hut. The girls took a bit longer as they had all the food for Saturday night to carry in as well as their own personal luggage.

The lounge area had already been commandeered by the JMCS team (who were clearly delighted to discover that they would be sharing the hut with us over the weekend), whilst the Rannoch and hangers-on were relegated to the kitchen. Being very sensitive to atmospheres, I was aware that attempts by members of the JMCS to be sociable were not being well received. I also noted later that efforts by the Rannoch’s self-appointed Social Ambassador (namely C) did little to improve the ambience between the two factions.

Stuck rigidly to plans for an early night prior to the anticipated big hill day on Saturday and after a marathon three hours sleep was up bright and early and raring to go.

Plans for the day were many and varied. R had expressed an interest in Liathach. Strangely enough no-one appeared interested in joining us on our walk. Assumed this was due to the fear of being embroiled in conversations revolving around childbirth, PMT, and stretch marks but later in the day it became apparent why no-one had wanted to join us. We gaily laughed off comments about ‘Killer Mountain’ assuming it to be a joke. However, we were assured that once we got onto the ridge, we couldn’t go wrong (challenge alert).

Some members of the team (C, JD, Hutch) opted to do climby stuff, Big ‘I want to be alone’ Al decided to do a couple of Corbetts, Wee Al and Andy went for Beinn Eighe, Mary decided on a low level walk. Bish couldn’t decide on anything.

Have all but managed to repress the memories of our day but vaguely remember a steep climb onto the ridge, being overtaken at one point by Bish who had decided in the end to run up it, a sense of relief at reaching the ridge, secure in the knowledge that we couldn’t go wrong from there, and even more relief on reaching the first M-point of the day some time later. But, oh how we laughed (not), when after several more hours of trudging through the mist, the only views being panoramic views of R’s rear end, we reached the real M-point one, as opposed to the fantasy one of earlier – these maps can be deceiving at times.

The realisation that, at this point, we were only a quarter of the way along the ridge was somewhat disheartening to say the least. To cut a long story short, it was a long day punctuated occasionally by Bish appearing periodically out of the mist, sometimes in front, sometimes behind and grabbing the map from Rhona to study it intently, the conversations taking place between the two often doing little to inspire confidence.

However, after teetering along badly eroded paths offering treacherous drops below and climbing up and up and up, and down and down and down we made it to the second and final M-point. Suffice to say, hair-dos were not looking their best.

A long walk back down until, eventually, we spied the car which Bish had moved along the road to wait for us as planned – we dared to hope once again. Barely able to walk and barely holding back the tears (okay, that was me), we reached to road – no Bish, no car. A flurry of frenzied phone calls bore no fruit. There were no cars in sight, so hitching or throwing once self under the wheels of a moving car to end the misery were out. Removed boots (okay, that was me) and set off for the long walk back to the hut. Just when we thought all was lost, Andy arrived and very kindly offered us a lift back. Not being ones to look a gift horse in the mouth we graciously accepted.

After catching up with the events of the day, a relaxing wash in an icy stream, a change of clothes and a couple of cans of wine, began to feel human again. All had apparently had a successful and enjoyable day, apart from Big Al who had sprained his ankle 3 yards from the hut – that’s what happens when one leaves the safety of one’s armchair. Despite this he had managed to get a Corbett in the bag – or so he said.

From nowhere, a feast of assorted curry dishes appeared on the table. News that I was providing a home made dessert had obviously got around as there was a large contribution of puddings thoughtfully brought along by other people. Conversation was so scintillating that I opted for a short nap between pudding and coffee – hope no-one took this personally. Birthday Girl/The Hostess with the Leastest was charm and wit personified and graciously distributed various body parts from a cake bearing her own unmistakable image (fortunately fully clothed) – needless to say there was plenty to go around.

After such a full and active weekend, plans were made for an easy day on Sunday – but that’s another story.

So, thanks to Rhona (ably assisted by Bish) for organising the weekend, to C for facilitating the use of the Hut and for not screwing up the arrangements, to JD for the bottle of wine (but that’s another story) and for making sure that none of us fell into too deep a sleep, to Mary for getting the food on the go while BG/HWTL was still on the hill, to Andy for giving us a lift back to the hut, to Wee Al for all his sage advice, to Hutch for the glass of wine by the river (but that’s another story), to Roger and Fiona for joining us on Saturday night and providing hot coffee after an icy swim in the loch on Sunday (but that’s another story), and to me for making R feel superior all weekend and for pulling out all the stops to provide a slap up breakfast on Sunday – fried eggs, sunny side up (presentation is everything). Points off, however, to Big Al, for falling when there were no witnesses and for being all talk and no action (or rather all specs and no pecs).

Shaz, 27 April 2004