Gone Bush.

Well sort of, using the bushbuddy stove, sourcing fuel, making frying pan bread and getting well smoked.

Tuesday 10th June. camped GR mapLR 48. 264246.

Travelled up yesterday. because of the amount of time it takes to make Oban I miss the last ferry to Mull. Thus have to stop over. Managed to book in to a backpackers hostel for the night. This morning caught the mid morning ferry to Mull. The return fare was very reasonable at just over eight pounds and the ticket is valid for a full month. There is something exciting about heading off to islands with no fixed itinery. The service bus down to Fhionnphort was not due for almost two hours. Somehow though I managed to wangle a lift with a tour bus. Lots of pensioners and pilgrims, I got a few bemused looks, everyone so neatly dressed and me scruffy dressed and snuggling up to a well worn rucksack on the seat next to me. Another short hop on another ferry over to Iona. The place was heaving with folk all making pilgrimages. Me, well I am sorry to report but I headed the other way. Firstly up and around to loch Staoineig. By the looks of it the only water source for the whole island. Had to clamber over barbwire fencing to get water. Three litres of water added to an already heavy rucksack meant just having a gentle amble. Really though it was a lovely walk over to where I am now camped. Tent up and then an explore. Deserted coves, beaches that are oh so white. Watched seals through the binoculars. This trip, being more of a stravaig, has seen me carrying more gear than normal. Binoculars, my baby axe and small knife. The wind is quite blustery which does mean having to sheild the bush buddy.

Wednesday 11th June. OS Map LR48. Gr 321187.

A windy night with the tent being buffeted a bit. Also rain, which had eased by morning with just a heavy shower as I finished packing up. By the time I had walked over to the village I was able to shed the waterproofs. Had a wander around, visited some of the ruins. Even early morning the abbey was getting busy thus did no visit it. Caught the ferry back over to Mull. There was a local shop so took the opportunity to pick up a few bits and a soft drink. A fresh baked wholewheat baguette and a block of cheese promised a good second breakfast later in the morning. Turned on to a tiny road that would lead up to Knockvologan. The campsite at Fidden was predominately caravans, all five of them. Not that I intended to stop there. Despite the northerly wind, the sun was hot, which had me shedding layers. Stopping for my mid morning break saw me basking in the shelter of a large boulder. The sunscreen had to be liberally applied. Reaching the farm at the road end I sat for a while trying to figure the best way across country. As the crow flies it was only a few miles. However, from a high point I could see a deer fence further inland, which I wanted to avoid. Cattle had been turned loose along the coast and I attempted to stick to their trails. What had been marked on the map as deciduous woodland was in fact dense scrub. The whole area was akin to Dartmoor, with many rocky tors and deep hollows. The major difference being the gullies and deep hollows where chocked in this dense scrub which reached to over twelve foot high. Predominately mountain willow and hazel. In the clearer areas it was heather and bracken. Detour after detour was required to pick my way through. At time I found myself teetering on the edge of steep, rocky ravines, choked with dense growth. Following one faint cattle trail I found myself descending in to something akin to a large chamber. A heavily vegetated rock walled hollow, the canopy forming a perfectly domed ceiling. It was a dark, almost gloomy place, daylight only filtering through very dimly. One could disappear in such places and never be seen again. Finally a meandering cattle trail led me down towards the cove. Ground conditions are very dry otherwise much of what I had come through would have been boggy. The downside is that water is scarce. I have sourced a trickle that forms a pool. care is needed to gently skim off water from near the surface. Dip too deep and sediment will be stirred up. There is a wide, flat ledge close to the beach which makes an ideal spot to camp. What more could one ask for? A seclude white beach all to myself, fantastic views and to cap it all there are a whole group of seals on the rocks just offshore. A family of geese, two adults and four chicks paddle in the cove. Oyster catchers patrol the tide line. Buzzards pass by overhead. Sitting here in the evening breeze which keeps the midges at bay the only sounds I hear are the natural life that is going on around me. My first attempts at frying pan bread where a bit hit and miss. A tad too wet and too much in the pan at once. Yes, I am also carrying a frying pan and olive oil for cooking . The lightweight ideal is lacking on this trip. Maybe a few folk, when reading this will be rolling their eyes in horror. Whatsoever, there is a time and a place for all things. This was never intended as a fast and light trip.

Thursday 12th June.

Same camp spot as previous evening. Loitering over breakfast this morning I saw no reason to be pushing on. Decided to stay another night and spend time just exploring. Wandered over to an enjoining cove. Barefooted, the sand firm beneath my feet, it was so pleasant with the sea lapping softly, alone and wearing the minimal of clothing. There was fun too, scrambling over rocks and boulders along the base of the cliffs to yet another inlet. So many fascinating nooks and crannies to explore. Spotted a white tailed eagle overhead, unfortunately it was moving fast, obviously heading somewhere. The seals spent a lot of time hauled out on the rocks close to shore. The problem was that they where just too far away to photo. Their colour meant that they blended in completely with the rocks on witch they where basking. After a few futile attempts to stalk closer, it would have meant wading out to the rocks, I gave up. The seals that where in the water bobbed up and watched my efforts with great tolerance. How though does one photo just a small blob in the water? Finally I just sat down on the beach and watched them through the binoculars. As the tide turned it obviously was bringing in fish with it. The seals became very active, porpoising through kelp beds, diving repeatedly. The continuing north wind has masked how hot the sun has been. Despite the appliance of sun screen my shoulders have caught the sun. My footwear this trip has been my Inov8s. maybe a mistake, one of them has split right across the sole. Originally I had been toying with the idea of heading for Ben More. With iffy footwear maybe not! Have been doing my Ray Mears stuff, collecting kindling, making feather sticks and so forth. Experimenting with the stove, I have found that dry cattle dropping burns well, hot too. Sheep droppings are a bit more smokey but also burn hot. Once the sun goes down it gets noticeably chilly.

Friday 13th. Camped OS mapLR 48. 395188.

After a very unsettled night, not sleeping well and waking a couple of times with a start, though what dreams had caused me to do so I cannot remember. So, this morning, feeling lethargic I was tardy in getting away. Knowing there was a deer fence running down to a cove further up the coast, I headed inland a bit. Hidden in the brush was yet another. Fighting my through the shrubs that had enveloped the fence and clambering over all eight foot of it was difficult. A machete would not have gone amiss as I wound my way through dense bracken, deep heather and yet more dense scrub. Coming out on to the rocks that protruded on the summit of Torr Fada was like coming up for air after a deep dive. Taking a fix on Glac Roineach, it was a case of plunging in once more. Even avoiding the worst areas of scrub by being inland a bit did not mean that I avoided the knee deep heather. Underfoot too the ground was potholed. Obviously much of it was dried up bog, with holes and channels that demanded constant vigilance. Proper ankle twisting, leg breaking stuff. Sitting on one rocky outcrop, scouting the way ahead with binoculars, map and compass, I pondered on how many people had passed that way? Not many, I am sure, certainly very few in recent times. Even the animal tracks had long since vanished. Loch an Scalain was just a marshy, reed infested hollow with little water. Getting down to it was a struggle. Steep ground thick with scrub, bracken and brambles. Dense with no visibility, a seemingly lost world, ducking under low branches, the rucksack constantly snagging, gnarled, spindly dwarf hazel and moss covered boulders. To cap it all at the bottom I ran in to another deer fence. Once over though things improved. Black shapes on the hill to one side of me explained why. A large flock of Soay sheep had obviously grazed the area extensively. Cattle had been let loose there too and I was glad to pick up their meandering trails. Came over the bealach by loch More Ardalanish. A large grey heron flew lazily over the water. Picked my way over to a track marked on the map and then dropped down to Ardalanish bay. How pleasant it was just to wander along the wide curving beach. Just another couple of people walking their dog, quiet, peaceful. A track that led down to Ardchiavaig farm took me up to the road that led to Uisken. On the map a camp site was marked, thought of a hot shower where tempting. A sign indicated where to enquire. Looking around all I could see where a few caravans scattered about. By then it was too late, the lady of the house had spotted me. She confirmed there was camping and it would cost me £1 for the night and did I have water? Taking my water container she filled it for me in the house and then pointed down the hill to the beach, telling me to camp anywhere down there. Basically I have paid one pound for what amounts to a wild camp in a public area. it is not that I have any objection to paying the lady a pound, after all, quite a few farmers will make a nominal charge to pitch in their fields. What is annoying is the misleading campsite symbol on the map. There is, for example, camping, according to the Backpackers guide, at Knockvologan. That is not marked though. Anyway, this evening I have a nice spot at the far end of the bay. A few folk have been out for an evening stroll and seemed a little surprised to see me tucked away here. Maybe I am a novelty item for them? My pan fry bread is improving. A sprinkle of garlic salt in it, a mug of soup and a comfy place to sit, nice.

Saturday 14th June. Camped OS Map48 gr. 404188.
Some rain during the night but dry again by morning. Still not feeling right, tired, listless, lethargic. Rather than stay for another night in my £1 wild camp spot, I moved a bit further up the coast. Ok, it was only a couple of bays up. However, getting there was interesting. Knowing there was a path behind where I was camped, that led up to a cairn on the hill above, I followed it up. For a short time I managed to avoid the worst of the bracken and heather. Soon though I had to take the plunge. A faint sheep track led me down to a narrow valley. It disappeared though as I ascended a small hill on the other side. It is so tempting to thrash one's way through the dense bracken but in fact it is easier to take it slowly and ease a way through. To get down again to the shoreline meant a steep scramble down a rocky gully. Due to the density of the bracken it was difficult to actually see where I was going. Using a trekking pole to part the undergrowth I would peer down, trying to make sure I was not about to stumble into any deep holes. A case of shuffle, feel with the feet, make sure one foot is firmly place before committing the other foot. it was with a sigh of relief when I finally made it on to the boulders that lined that particular bit of shoreline. Ok, it was still a scramble over massive boulders and rough rock, but at least I could pick my route and the rock was not at all greasy. A fun bit of easy scrambling. Port an t-Slaoichain, where I came down, is a rocky little inlet. There is an isthmus, with a slipway on the other side and then a wide, curving beach. On the beach, a boat pulled up high above the tide line. An outboard motor still attached. A petrol can in the boat. Also in the boat, fishing tackle, rods, lines and other bits and bobs. There is a rough track that leads down to the beach but obviously not many people come down here. At the far side of the bay another rocky promontory. On it I found, among a jumble of shattered rock, boulder and stone a beautiful grassy patch. Thus I am camped with sea in front of me and sea behind me. Yes, it has been a lazy day,but sometimes though those sort of days are just as interesting. A lone seal briefly breaks the surface in the bay in front of me, breathes and vanishes. Once more water is scarce, again it has come from an almost dried up stream. Sheep obviously use it, so boiling all water is really a necessity. It is time to consider my next move from here. Originally I had been considering working my way further down the coast. However, the lady I spoke to yesterday warned me that much of the area had recently been extensively criss crossed with new deer fencing. Looking at things as they currently stand I think tomorrow I will stay here and head out on Monday. The wind is still due north. It buffets the tents and raises white caps out on the ocean.
Sunday 15th June. Same location as previous.
Just about to light the stove this morning when I looked up to a hill above the bay. There a large tumble of rocks, according to the map a 'Dun'. From below it looks like a huge cairn. Movement caught my eye. Focusing the binoculars I saw that it was a golden eagle. Unfortunately it did not stay long but took off to fly inland. A mug of tea and the last of the frying pan bread for breakfast. Lingered for a while and then set off to explore. The tide was dropping, rock pools, clear with tiny things swimming in them. A crab, a baby starfish, crustaceans. Sheep where grazing among the seaweed. In among a massive jumble of rocks, the remains of an engine. Obviously by its size, a marine engine, possibly a small coaster, too big for a fishing boat. The question immediately comes to mind, what happened? How did it end up where it was ? It is well in among the rocks. Was the boat driven ashore in a storm? The storm must have been a violent one. What happened to the crew? Did they survive? Where was she from, where was she heading? It is sobering. Black shag are plentiful here. It is amazing to sit and watch them diving for fish. Often the will perch on a rocky outcrop, wings outstretched as they dry off. Gaunt sentinels standing sentry. As I write I can hear the rhythmic, gentle pulsing of the waves on the rocks and shore. There is something quite soporific to it.
Monday 16th June. Oban.
Headed out today. There was no rush. My aim was to catch the bus from Bunessan back to the ferry. It did not come through until 11 35. Strolled up the track, just a slow amble. Saw grey herons. Oddly there where a pair together. Maybe a mating pair? Normally they are quite solitary. Not having had any breakfast, bought a sandwich at the village shop. It was tempting to have taken it back. Fresh it was not. Was back in Oban by early afternoon. Desperate for a shower I finally booked in to b&b. Serendipity, £25 for the night. It looks like I have booked in to a b&b that caters for workers off to other areas and needing a place to stay overnight.. The landlady, a no nonsense sort of woman, but quite pleasant really asked for cash in advance. No cheques or credit cards, strictly cash. Breakfast was between 0700 and 08 30. A basic sort of place, no frills or anything fancy but none the worse for that.
Tuesday. Heading out. An early breakfast at seven has allowed me to catch the 0810 train to Glasgow. As I suspected, most folk who book in to the b&b are probably trades people. At breakfast, breakfast for one, no choice in menu, egg, bacon sausage tomato and beans, tea and toast. All the guys at breakfast where in work clothes. They seemed a tad surprised to have me in their midst but where polite enough and said good morning to me. Looking at the weather forecast I have made the right move in heading out.
A few thoughts on the bush buddy. Using it constantly over the last week has proved an interesting experience. On a trip such as this one, where time is not been of any importance then it has proved to be fine. However, if I was travelling any distance then I probably would stick with gas. It is the time factor. Foraging for fuel is not difficult, but, if I had been on the go all day then just for the sheer convenience of a quick brew and a meal I would use gas. The bush buddy is more time consuming. Boiling a pint of water and cooking a meal requires the stove to be refueled a few times. it burns hot, but also consumes a steady amount of twiggy stuff. As an experiment I did try larger bits of wood, they did not do so well. Wind is another problem, the stove does not like drafts. One way around this is to use a windshield. Bob over at Backpacking Light does some very light and quite large ones. It may well be more beneficial for two or more. One person having the job of being in charge of the stove. Other points to consider are the facts that it is more messy. Think grubby hands, blackened pots and so forth. Not thinking and picking up my cook pot with my hand, rather than a pot grab meant very dirty fingers. After a week I reeked of woodsmoke. Plastic bags are essential to stow pots and stove in. Another factor to consider is the aspect of naked flame, keep well away from tents and remember, most outdoor clothing is nylon, it melts. What it performs like in the rain as yet I do not know. Having said that, yes, I like my bush buddy and would consider using for weekend breaks or short trips where I was just pottering.

photos

TGO Challenge 08

what a bunkhouse?

Spring mid Wales

Spring Mid Wales

Harlech area



Skye

Winter Fisherfield Scotland

Random thoughts

It seems strange to be back from the TGO challenge and doing nothing. At present I am planning my next trip. People often ask me how can I afford to travel now that I am not working? Well, basically, I have no social life, my needs are not great, I do not eat out and I keep food costs down.
My next trip is going to be different. It is more in the way of a bushcraft trip. There is a destination I have in mind. My equipment is going to differ too,more stuff carried. However, mileage is not on the agenda. It will be a time of wandering, of observing. Included in my kit will be my binoculars,, bushbuddy stove, small 10 oz axe, folding saw and neck sheath knife. Ideally I would take a tarp, however, for personal reasons, that is not practical. Food will different too, my plan is to make frying pan bread and biscuits. if anyone has any suggestions in regards to smoked bacon please contact me.

TGOC 2008

Thursday 8th May.
Well at last the waiting and anticipation is over. Preparations and last minute checks are finally past, commitment now to the journey is total. Met up with Darren and his mate Martin at Euston. They had been at the station for some time whereas I turned up just as boarding began. The lads settled down in the sleeping berth next door to me, I was fortunate and had a complete compartment to myself. We arrived in Glasgow early and strolled up to Queen Street station. Darren had booked us on the 12 20 Mallaig train, so we settled down for the long wait. Gradually other challengers began to drift in. Rucksacks and people began to crowd the concourse. Old friends exchanged greetings and hugs. People mingled to meet and greet. There was a certain degree of cheerful chaos as we almost overwhelmed the train. Challengers far outnumbering other travellers. The train conductor pleaded on the tannoy for the corridors and doorways to be kept clear of luggage. There was a party atmosphere as we headed north west, many folk supping beer and wine. For me it was something akin to a home coming. We passed through many familiar areas. Several evoking special memories. Rannoch station where once I had staggered in to the station tea shop after a difficult crossing of the moor. Corrour, before the bunkhouse had been built, cold dark nights waiting for the train. Many places, each with their own special memories. Quiet emotive really. We have been booked in to a hotel here in Mallaig. A last night of luxury. The three of us are now off to the chippy for fish and chips.

Friday 9th May. Sourlies.
The day started with a cooked breakfast and then the signing in to officially start the TGOc. Down to the harbour area, pick up the ferry tickets and join the milling throng. Cameron was there, with camera, as was a small film crew. The weather was amazing, warm, clear and sunny. Some forty plus folk where heading for Inverie. A swelling mound of rucksacks began to fill the bow area of the ferry as people boarded. Many headed in to the pub in Inverie for an early lunch! Darren, Martin and myself stopped only briefly for a shandy. Having felt the weight of Martin's rucksack I felt some concern at how heavy it was. it felt at least around the forty pound mark. Also, Martin had only just purchased it and therefore was not familiar with it. It was amazing to see the mass exodus of humanity leaving Inverie, individuals and groups, all heading for the hills. As we headed up Gleann Meandail it soon became apparent that Martin was in difficulties with his rucksack. The hip belt constantly slackened off, this in turn meant Martin was bearing the main load of his pack on his shoulders. With the weight of gear he was carrying, plus the warmth of the afternoon our progress was a series of stop start up the hill and also heading down again to cross the salt flats heading around to the bothy area. Little has changed since I last passed this way. The same wobbly bridge that leads on to the salt marsh area. The old path across appears to have vanished but there where no difficulties really. Everyone camped here that I have spoken to has remarked on how tired they feel. To be honest I expected nothing else, all the emotional build up, the long journey. For me, it takes a day or two to settle down and get in to a routine. Everyone is turning in for an early night.

Saturday 10th May. Camped Glen Kingie.
The day turned out be a harder one than anticipated. A heavy overnight dew meant damp tents this morning. It was a late start, past 0800. Low clouds covered the tops. it was all quite atmospheric as we began the steady climb up Mam Na Claich Airdre. it is a route I quite enjoy. Oddly I have never descended it, usually having come over the tops and dropping off the ridges down to Sourlies. The last time I went up through, conditions where similar, much wetter though. Martin was severely hampered by his troublesome pack and in turn this meant frequent stops. It caused me to fret a tad. Normally I am not one for timetables and rigid routines, however it was becoming obvious we where running far too late to make our intended destination. It was 1600hrs as we headed down Glen Dessary. In reality we ought to have gone through somewhere around 1400hrs or earlier. A quick Chinese council. Darren was concerned because we where due and expected at Invergarry the next night. He suggested I push on and try to make while he brought Martin on at a slower pace. Now I really had to push to make up ground. Kept up a steady pace up and over to Kingbreak bothy. Got there by 1900hrs, however, stopping there would mean some thirty plus miles tomorrow. Pushed on a bit further, crossed the river Kingie ok. According to the map there is a path up to the main track on the other side of the glen. Unable to locate it I attempted to pick my way across the the bog. Though I was doing fine until a bit of seemingly firmish ground opened up and tried to swallow me. Went in deep too, almost to my waist. Trying to remain calm, I managed to half belly flop onto a large tussock. It quivered under my weight but held me; with the trekking poles laid across the clump I gradually leaned on them and wriggled out,yuck, my trousers are water resistant and I was not too wet apart from my feet. Stopped when I made it across to the main track and decided it best to stop soonest. Thus, have made camp for the night short of where I was heading for but certain I can make Invergarry tomorrow night. Notice after my dip in the bog that I initially went in deep enough to wet the bottom of the rucksack. Tired tonight.

Sunday 11th May. Invergarry campsite.
Well today has been a long one. Slept in this morning when really I needed an early start. Some rain during the night but the morning was dry, if a little gray. Down through the forestry I tapped out a steady pace. It still took in the region of and hour to make our original intended stopping place. Met several other folk heading down the track. Cheery exchanges made as we passed each other. Almost everyone said they never enjoyed forestry walking, glad to see I am in good company. There should have been a path heading off just before the bridge. There was something there but it looked suspiciously like a deer track. (I found out later it was the actual path) Others where looking for it too. Rather than take chances I headed out on to the road and came down by Tomdoun. A merry band of happy hikers and a plethora of rucksacks scattered around the drive of the hotel indicated that many challengers Had made it their stopping point for the day. Stopped briefly for a shandy. One or two folk where a wee bit concerned about the distance I still had to cover. It was now around 1500hrs. Carried on down to the bridge and on to the track leading up to Greenfields farm. A sign post indicated Invergarry at another 10 miles. It was a case of simply keeping on the move and maintaining a steady pace. Once past the farm a closer eye had to be kept on the map, there where a few turn offs to be avoided. A few spots of rain turned to a more persistent downpour. On with the waterproofs, head down and push on. Met two other guys further on. They had gone wrong on their map reading or had been mislead by new forestry tracks and ended up quite adrift and way behind time. Joining forces we set a steady pace on to Invergarry. Fortunately the rain stopped. Logging operations had left one area akin to something close to the aftermath of a catyasclismic explosion. One again, close attention to our map reading was called for. The two guys where heading for a bunk house while I swung around by Whitebridge. A quick dash up a short section of the main road to the road that would lead around to the campsite. A sign said 600yards to campsite. Those where an awfully long 600yrds, plus reception was at the top of the hill, just what a weary body needs!! Booked in, rang control and am now about to sleep the sleep of the weary. (Checking later, covered some 28 miles, a lot of distance.)

Monday 12th May. Invergarry.
A day off waiting for Darren and Martin. A group of other challengers had been camped here last night but had been off early this morning. A luxurious shower this morning and surreptitious wash in the hand basin of a few bits of clothing. There was a laundry area up in reception but I had no need of a washing machine.
Later in the morning a lady from a mobile home approached me. "Are you one of those people in those tiny tents?" I admitted that it was so and gave a brief outline of the TGO challenge. She hesitated a moment and then asked. "But what do you do for washing?" I thought for a moment and then answered. "Well now, it really depends on the weather. If the weather is good I may have a strip wash in the tent. However, if it is cold it just a wipe over with baby wipes." A look of horror on her face and she rapidly stepped back three paces. "But what about changing clothes and everything, you know, underwear and everything?" I just grinned. "The same concept applies." She staggered back a further few paces. "Oh that is so disgusting, how awful. I mean, well, I bathe and change my clothes every day!" There we have it folks, not only am I mad, bad and dangerous, now I am uncouth, unwashed, unwaged and unloved. Ah, beware the wandering clan of the Great Unwashed. We dwell in tiny tents, humble bothies and lowly bunkhouses!
Darren and Martin came strolling in early afternoon looking suspiciously fresh and perky. After all my concerns about them having a hard day I find that they had opted to stay for a night of luxury in Tomdoun hotel. Roast beef dinners and the such. Grrhh, they could have at least brought me a beef sandwich.

Tuesday 13th May. Invergarry campsite.
An enforced lay over. Was violently ill last night. A local gp has said it was vertigo. Most odd at night but it seems violent movement can trigger it. From what I can recall I was having a bad dream and woke up suddenly. The doctor wants me to drop in to the surgery in Fort Augustus tomorrow when we pass through. Still feeling a bit rough but better than I was.

Wednesday 14th May. Blackburn bothy.
Was up early as intended, still a tad woozy but ok. Martin had headed home yesterday and now it was just Darren and myself. A quick conflab and we had agreed that our quickest route was straight down the road to Bridge of Oich and the follow the canal up to Fort Augustus. We where away by 0730. Fortunately traffic was not too bad. We held a steady pace to F.A., arrived by mid morning. A cuppa and a sandwich in a cafe. Darren had a few things to attend to so I nipped in to the doctor's surgery. Amazing, I was in and out within fifteen minutes. The doctor checked me over, he was concerned on how long the attack had lasted, re several hours. He said I still had a residue of vertigo. Prescribed some pills, which I collected from reception. Picked up another gas cylinder and a few bits of nibbles, re a large rich fruit Selkirk bannock bun. We left Fort A. by 1230, the day was now becoming warm and sunny. A leisurely, relaxed stroll up to the bothy. Much better than last time I came this way. Arriving early, I opted to camp while Darren headed for the bothy. A new experience for the lad, I think he is rather taken with the idea of bothies!

Thursday 15th May. Bunkhouse Laggan.
Today was hard. Once more we where away by 0730, it was a somewhat grey morning with low cloud on the hills.it is a steady pull up to the bealach. It was something I had warned Darren about. The way ahead is obvious, not steep or difficult in any way, just a long plod. It took us three hours to get up and Darren agreed I had not been exaggerating in its length. Down through the zigzags to the washed out area. Apparently until recently it was used regularly by four four drivers and that is the reason it has not been repaired. From what I gathered later a sturdy gate had been put up further down the glen but had been wilfully ripped out. It is so irresponsible. One would think off road drivers would have a little more respect. By causing so much wilful damage and with such a narrow minded, selfish point of view they have caused untold damage to a Scottish national monument. It is a sad state of affairs. By the time we got to the tarmacked section of the road the day was once more becoming warm. The section of road down to Laggan had been bugging me for some time. On my initial study of possible routes, I had spent many hours poring over maps to find an alternative route. That road section bothered me. That is why I came up in February, the Corrieyairick itself was no problem but that road section bothered me. When I walked it earlier this year it had proved to be very tedious and hard on the feet. Also it had seemed endless. Because of that I put superfeet insoles in to my footwear. Darren was worrying me a little, we where both becoming tired and that was obvious but Darren was also starting to limp. it was a hot,tired and sweaty pair that walked in to Laggan. Rather than camp we both wanted a wee bit of luxury. Unfortunately the hotel was full. The Mondaliath appears to be an excellent hotel though, with rooms at £30 a night and food at very reasonable prices. They where even prepared to offer us a spot to camp in the chapel ruins complete with room service. We opted for the potteries bunkhouse though. mainly because we craved a hot shower. We had to wait a bit until the lady running the bunkhouse returned from sorting out her car. Luxury though, the bliss of a hot shower. A lot of miles covered today.

Friday 16th. Upper Glen Feshie.
We are settling down to a regular routine now. By 0730 we where on the road, literally. It was going to be a day of long mileage. The morning was bright and clear with the sun already promising a hot day to come. Darren does not do heat, he suffers badly, I am not at my best in hot weather either but my concern was with Darren. Yesterday had proved a hard day and it was apparent that Darren was suffering a tad. A short section of main road down to Catlodge and then on to a small back road. It wound through verdant woodland of beech, oak and other broad leaf species of trees. The road led down to glen Truim. A short walk along the cycleway that follows the busy main road. Taking advantage of a lull in the traffic, we nipped across and on to the track that leads up to Phones. By now it was growing hot and we stopped for a welcome break beside a gurgling burn than runs down by the lodge. So peaceful, so relaxing, the temptation is to linger. However, there where many miles yet to cover and so we pushed on. The old military road along the moor gave us a few miles of gentle, rolling track that allowed a steady pace. At one point we surprised a hen grouse with her chicks sunning themselves right on the path. Grouse are not the most intelligent of birds, she flew off in one direction, leaving her chicks to cower in the heather. They looked so cute, small, fluffy balls. The temptation was to stop and take photos, not wishing to cause the birds any more stress we resisted and moved on. Back out on to the trunk road for a quick dash down to pick up the road that leads up past Ruthven barracks. Darren and I discussed the merits of turning it in to a bunkhouse, an ideal money spinner??? Followed the road down to Tromie Bridge. Darren was now obviously suffering, a break was called for. Nipping over a fence I sscrambled down to a burn for water. We stretched out under a large, gnarled, old Scots pine savouring the moment; glad to stop, even if was only a temporary break. With a sigh we soon shouldered packs once more and headed in to the forestry. Having been through the lower sections of the forestry tracks before I was well aware that what was on the map did not exactly correspond with what was on the ground. A few new tracks had been opened up and one or two lost. Map reading in forestry plantations can often prove tricky. Darren grew a wee bit techy as I regularly stopped to check the map and the lie of the ground. to be honest, I could understand his frustration. The desire now was just to make Glen Feshie. However, it is when you are tired, your concentration can lapse. A map reading error could have lead to unnecessary miles being walked. Finally we dropped out of the forestry on to the road that leads on to Upper Glen Feshie. it was as drew near to the higher bridge over the river that tthree mini buses passed us. They where full of school children. My heart sank, I had a gut feeling they might be heading in our direction. The bridge over the river was in a bad way. Obviously winter floods had badly damaged it, part of the bridge was badly twisted, the timbers damaged and in places missing. A notice warned that the bridge was in a dangerous condition. Darren kindly(?) waved his hand, "Ladies first." Was that a look of disappointment in his eye when I made it across ok? It was with a sigh of relief that we made the bothy. Since I last came this way it has been almost totally rebuilt. There is also now a primitive loo, re a little shed, a drain hole in the floor that runs to a septic tank and a bucket of water for flushing. Not so easy for us women. Darren headed for the bothy where other challengers had a fire going. The lad is becoming a regular bothy dweller! Unfortunately for personal and practical reasons I am unable to use them much. Wandered off to pitch under a big old Scots pine. They are trees I am quite fond of. To me they are benign and even friendly in a way. They offer ground around them that is usually firm and good for pitching a tent. it is only a matter of sweeping the pines cones out of the way. As I was pitching suddenly troops of youngsters began flocking past the tent on both side sides. Rucksacks, large bags, even a two wheel trolley device. Worse yet, they began setting up camp just across from me. Ok, ok, it sounds as if I am being grouchy. My excuse is that I am one tired old lady and just want some peace and quiet. Yes, it is good to see kids being introduced to the outdoors but oh my, a large pack of them descending on such a place as the upper glen is a tad daunting. The guy in charge came around and explained things. he was well aware of the TGOC and later a group of girls drifted over to say "H!" Give them their due, they where polite and asked sensible questions. So, I spent a bit of time explaining about the challenge and talking about the concept of going lightweight. So folks, I am not a totally grumpy old woman. Later, the garrens have wandered up, soft nickering, rumbles and the sound of grass being munched. These ponies are certainly tent savvy. It was fascinating to sit in the tent and watch as a pair of them nibbled their way down each edge of the tent. big, soft roman muzzles, teeth tugging at morsels of grass. A snicker at the from of the tent and there was another pony gazing wistfully me with its big eyes. Obviously people have given them hand outs before. Tired, tired, tired, the kids are letting off steam, quite a few of them are yelling and shouting as they run loose, even though it is now quite dark.

Saturday 17th May.
Well, some fellow challengers where certainly up and away early. Somewhere around 4am. Unfortunately they woke up their fellow bothy dwellers and me as well. A third day of quite long miles and we where both starting off a bit tired. The upper parts of Glen Feshie are beautiful. It is a pity really to be just passing through. So many areas just cry out to explored, foaming waterfalls, deep gorges, deep rock pools, the high ridges above the glen. A steady ascent up to the bealach. The much publicized landslip proved to be no difficulty. A bridge over a foaming torrent thundering down a narrow gorge and a boggy stretch across the bealach itself. Soon we where heading down the Geldie burn. A figure further down the track turned out to be Duncan coming up to meet us. Bless him, he was carrying goodies for us and just before White Bridge we stopped for a lunch break. The lad did us proud, peperoni sausages, jaffa cakes, chocolate. Duncan, it was much appreciated, thank you, and thanks for all your support and encouragement. Down to Linn of Dee and then the long last lap, a weary march down to Braemar. Duncan sped on ahead in his car to book us in to the Rucksacks bunkhouse and managed to grab the last three places. We are in debt to you, the bunkhouse was just what we needed. It was two tired bodies that walked in to Braemar, encouraged by Duncan with promises of fantastic fish suppers and long, cold drinks in the pub. Darren was in obvious trouble, his feet are blistered. Hopefully a rest may help but blisters take time to heal and in all reality we have to push on. A cold soft drink in the pub for Darren and myself and a beer for Duncan, (he worked for it?) Fish and chips all round which we carried back to the bunkhouse. Huge portions and cooked as we waited, fantastmagorical.

Sunday 18th May. A rest day.
Our original intention had been to pick up our food parcel from the campsite and have an easy morning in Braemar and head up Loch Callater in the afternoon. However, Darren's feet where in a bad way. His first reaction was to attempt to finish as soon as possible by going via Glen Cova and head straight down to Montrose. It was the nearest we got to having an argument. Looking at the map it was obvious that this would involve many miles of road walking. Thus I put my foot down and disagreed. Darren was not happy with me but in all fairness I have had many years of walking behind me and know fairly well what is feasible and what is not. Fortunately, and thanks to a couple of other guys that where in Braemar and knew Darren, persuaded him not to attempt it. Some map study, a few amendments and route changes and we had a new and easier way forward. Time was getting on bit and Darren took little persuading that that it would be best to spend another night in Braemar. So, we have had a full rest day which really and truly speaking is quite benefitial. So tonight we are once more staying at the bunkhouse.

Monday 19th May. Sheilin of Mark.
Away by our usual time of 0730. Down the main road to Bridge of Dee. A lapse of concentration on my part led to a slight error in navigation. No harm done and soon we where on tracks leading through the Balmoral estate. A pleasant walk through Ballochbuuie forest. Once more, a track marked on the map was not to be found on the ground. A quick lunch break at Gelder Shiel bothy and the steady climb up to Clais Rathadan and a rough, stony drop down and across to Spittal of Glen Muick. It was pleasantly warm at the information centre and we stretched out for a short break. Entertained a group of pensioners wandering up from the car park. Told them of the challenge and of the wandering clan of the Great Unwashed. Tried to persuade them they where supposed to throw buns and other goodies at us. No joy though. A few other challengers soon appeared and we spent a few minutes socialising and exchanging news before heading up and over to the Sheilin of Mark bothy. The path runs out part way and Darren was a little concerned as we navigated just by the map. Thus nipped up on to the higher ground, a quick check of map and compass led me straight to the bothy. Darren had been a tad worried about the time I had gone and had climbed up to see where I was. Gave him a shout and led the way over to the bothy. It was starting to rain arrive as we arrived. Several other tents are scattered around the area but I have left the socialising to Darren. he is much better at it than me.

Tuesday 20th May Tarfside.
Away early as usual. Darren gave me a shout at 6am. A couple of guys had already left and he wanted me to note the route they had taken to join up with a track that led to Glen Lee. Sometimes I feel that Darren does not trust my navigation. Having spent many years hill walking in areas that have no proper paths or tracks I have enough confidence in my map reading to know where I am going. Besides, I had already done a check of map and compass the night before, just in case the cloud came down. Muckle Cairn would have been hard to misss. As we ascended toward the ridge Darren suggested I was veering off route but in reality I was just picking my way up through the bog and tussocks. It had been in my mind to walk up to Muckle Cairn itself. It does have a huge cairn. Darren though was after the bacon butties at Tarfside and so we had to press on. Down past loch Lee and on to the road and straight on to Tarfside. There is a religious retreat here and local ladies open the doors to us, serving bacon sandwiches, tea, beer, fruit cake; all at reasonable prices. They also offer a few rooms and hot showers. Thus the reason the lads shot off early this morning. Crafty chappies, they where making sure of bagging themselves a room for the night. Darren also has managed a room while I am camped out on the local playing field with the mob. Tonight, as folk drift in from different places it is estimated there are some fifty to sixty tents pitched here. A first as far as I know; the local hotel has come up to take orders for food and is doing a kitchen to tent delivery service. people are even ordering wine from them, amazing. It is staggering to see this amount of challengers all congregated in one place. A party atmosphere prevails.

Wednesday 21st May. North Water Bridge caravan park.
It was something akin to a pilgrimage this morning as folk headed down the road. A steady stream of challengers leaving Tarfside. the numbers thinning as everyone settled down to walk their own pace. Darren was moving slow, his feet painful. there was no rush though, we had all day. We had a pleasant walk along by the river and down to Edzell. Rucksacks piled high on the pavement outside a local cafe indicated others of the clan. We joined them for a slap up lunch, or at least a proper cooked lunch. After lunch and some faffing with a useless cash machine it was the last leg down to the camp area. A nasty bit of road walking. despite much searching on the map it was the most direct route. A long straight road with heavy traffic thundering past. Looking back I could see Darren, head down and making much use of his trekking poles, hobbling alog. There was little I could but set the pace that suited him best and keep moving. It was with a sigh of relief when finally we arrived here. It is really a caravan park but we where permitted to camp on all the carefully manicured areas around the caravans and also given free access to the showers and facilities. Goodness knows what the caravaners thought of this invasion of their turf. The main A90 is close by and traffic noise is horrendous. Me, well, I snuck off to find a lovely little spot behind the toilet block which blanks out much of the traffic noise.

Thursday 22nd May. Montrose.
Well we did it, crossing complete. Darren gave me a shout at five am. Fortunately I was already awake and having breakfast. Underway by 0600. A stroll through the lanes to St Cyrus. Tradition demands one at least wets ones boots in the sea at the finish. The cliff path down to the beach is naughty little sting in the tail. The water was cold but I enjoyed a quick paddle. Darren rang control to confirm our finish. Once done it was on the bus and to Montrose to sign the book. Certificate presented, also a T shirt and badge. We where quite fortunate and managed to get acouple of rooms in a pub. That was something I really wanted. It allowed me a proper a proper bath and a chance to wash my hair. At the moment I have left the socialising and mingling to Darren. It is really his victory. Next year, if he decides to do it again, he will have the grounding of experience, lessons learned, skills learned, or to be learned. Those feet need to be sorted, blisters can be a walkers worst enemy and feet do need toughening up before a long walk. As for me, well, a few bits of kit change next time but the majority of my gear is tried and tested. Possibly I may need more support on my feet. having arthritis in both feet, they do get a wee sore at times.

last minute things.

Well time is creeping up on us. Next week is the off for the TGOC thingy. So far it has proved a tad more expensive that I wanted. Having failed to track down my lost trekking poles a descision had to be met. My Black diamond pair are good poles, however, weighing them on the scales they average out at two pounds for the pair, ouch!. A deep breath and a hurried phone call to the ever patient Rose at Back Packing Light and I now have a new pair at over half the weight. This is after managing to blag a new tent tarp at a special price. Again, weight was the deciding factor. It means another pound in weight saved. The downside to that is that I am using a new shelter that I have not used before. Drastic action was needed after I did a trial pack and found my pack was creeping up over the twelve kilo mark. As it is, I am carrying maps, which will bump up the weight. Yes, I could post them on but prefer them with me. At least I can post them back to myself as they become of no further use. Talking of weight, something I have been taking more seriously of late is the matter of loos, or lack of. Over the last few years I have noticed the alarming increase of human excrement on open display in many areas of the hills. Apart from the fact that it looks disgusting, I cannot understand the mentality behind such behaviour. Respect for the hills and the wild places we roam ought to be the norm. A leave no litter policy surely includes, ' leave no unsightly mess like human waste' There is the added factor too of hygene, polute the land, polute the water and we reap the consequences in diseases like gardia and the such. Well, I invested in a just the jobby trowel from Back Packing Light, (yes Darren, feel free to borrow it). One downside, yet again the weight factor reared it's head. The trowel came in at around four ounces. A ponder over a long cup of tea and then a quick rummage in the 'every woman's tool box' Out with the hacksaw, a few nifty cuts, a bit of filing and some work with glasspaper and voila, a mini just the jobby. It now weighs in at two ounces. It still remains as functional and is ideal for digging a cat hole.

Backpackers AGM

Wanting to get a walk in I travelled up to Buxton on the Thursday. My intention was to head for a camp site nearby and walk over to Ashford in the Water on the Friday. The camp site, Thornheyes farm, was muddy. My heart sank, I am growing to loath campsites that offer pitches in mud. Sorry, I just do not do mud. The pole for the hex had to have a piece of wood placed under it after it sank a good three inches. Some rain during the night meant packing a wet tent but I was glad to be away. A gentle walk over to Peak Dale and then on to Small Dale and around to the Pennine bridleway. Down through Hay Dale and Monks Dale. from there picked up the old railway track that is now the Monsal trail and continued on to Monsal Head and then by bridleways to Ashford. A pleasant day's walking. The campsite was huge, covering several acres. It is marked as a holiday park and has both static and mobile caravans. The area marked out for the backpackers was small in comparison. By Saturday it was crowded. A pity really. There was a large space right next door used for car parking. Three quarters of it remained unused throughout the weekend. Possibly if we had been allowed to utilise the area things would have far less cramped. To be honest, after Bellingham last year, this year was something of a let down. Far less trade stands, pubs that had no time for people who wanted food. Darren and John have already written up about people's lack of consideration for others. it highlights the point of why so many of us prefer wild camping. I had just turned in when all the noise started. As someone who finds crowds extremely stressful, I found I was heading towards a migraine. Fortunately I have tablets that ward off a severe attack. However, all I wanted was some peace and quiet. Sheep are peaceful neighbours in comparison. To cap things off, on Sunday, not realizing my clock was slow, I just missed the nine o clock bus. Thankfully there was another just before ten. This allowed me to catch the 10 25 train from Buxton to Stockport. Things just continued on downhill from there. The fast train to London that I wanted was cancelled. Caught the next one. Shortly after it stopped and we where told it was due to a major power failure further down the track. We sat for some twenty minutes before resuming our journey. Another couple of stops with regular announcements by the train manager. " Sorry for the delays, there are four trains currently held in front of us. As yet there is uncertainty whether we actually proceed to London." Oh the joys of rail travel! We eventually almost made it to Birmingham International only to stop once more. this time due to a major security alert which had closed both the airport and station. Finally we where allowed to proceed but not to stop at the station. Passengers had to get off further down the line and travel back. Just outside Milton Keynes we stopped yet again. A total signal failure this time. Finally we headed back up the track and over to Northampton. It was total chaos. Other trains had also been diverted there. The station was wall to wall in people. The station staff where overwhelmed. Coaches had been arranged, sort of. They trickled in slowly, in dribs and drabs. There where three people trying to sort the mess out. The actual guy trying to find where coaches where supposed to be going was doing so via a mobile phone. It was one almighty scrum. Managed to get myself on a coach for Euston. When we got to London, it quickly obvious the driver had no idea where he was going. As we hit Oxford street for the second time there was mutiny. Passengers demanded he stop the coach immediately and a whole crowd of us abandoned ship. Not bad, arriving back in London some four hours plus late?

Hard miles

Monday 14th April. Camped OS Explorer map 214 Gr901730.
Well things did not get off to a good start for the week. Came up on the train to Aberystwyth this morning. having a two hour wait before catching a bus onward. Went in to a cafe for fish and chips. Somewhat bland and indifferent, not inspiring. Watched groups of youngsters wandering through town carrying broom handles, odd!. Caught the bus I wanted. Why can some bus drivers be so grumpy? Was heading up to Llangurig and asked the driver to let me know when we got there. he just pointed to an old lady, "She gets off there" Very abrupt. My very light trekking poles are too long to carry on the rucksack when travelling; thus it meant carrying them separately. The inevitable happened. they got left on the bus. It is rare for me to lose kit so I am vexed and am now minus my poles. The first point I had marked for a wild camp was only fifteen minutes down the road. It was a fine evening and so pushed on down the valley. Came around by Dernol, across to Pen-Yr-Ochr and then up the hill and over to where I am now camped. Am up higher than I intended and the temperature is dropping rapidly. it is late though. Some two and a half hours walking.
Tuesday 15th April. Camped OS Explorer map 200 GR 890620.
It was clear last night with a brilliant moon. by early morning the temperature had dropped rapidly. Getting up was a chilly affair. It was bitterly cold and the tent was frozen solid. Ditto the water bag, had to thump it to break up the ice. Was glad to get moving. headed down to the road by the Afon Elan. Large puddles with a covering of ice, tadpoles swimming around quite happily. Swung around to pick up the bridleway that come up by Carn Ricet. Followed around by Waun Bryn-Hir. Red kites putting on wonderful aerial ballet. Some nasty hail and sleet showers made things even more chilly. Dropped down by Esgair Gwar-y-ty. Joined the track that runs down the side of Claerwen Reservoir. A long plod. came down the valley to where I am now camped. A blustery wind had me seeking a camp spot a bit lower down. There is a foot bridge very close by and a road across the river. However, my body is saying 'enough' and this is a snug spot tucked in behind a large rocky outcrop.

Wednesday 16th April camped Gr OS explorer map 187 822498.
Today has been hard and at times difficult. A frost again last night. Woke though to a heavy mist blanketing the valley. Everything a tad grey and dank. Made my way around by Rhiwnant farm. Leg muscles protesting on the first uphill section as I made my way up towards Bwlch y Ddau Faen. got to where the path split, I wanted the left hand path. A good track ran off right. Checked map, looked about and found a path that had definitely been used frequently and headed off. Somehow though I had a niggling feeling all was not well. Stopped, checked map and nothing really corresponded to what I should have been seeing. Got out the compass. Confirmation, I was bearing off south whereas I wanted to be heading southwest. Sat down for a quick nibble and a spot of checking. This confirmed I was off course. To get back on track I dropped down and up around the side of Esgair Fraith. So far so good. Came down by Pen Cae, now heading on a track that would lead me back to where I wanted to be. Horror, the track went up through forestry and it had been clear felled. The track was obliterated. Massed of lopped branches formed an impregnable barrier. Now I was annoyed. It meant a detour of several miles on forestry roads to come back to the point I wanted to be. That was hard, hard going. A very steep uphill bit that seemed to go on for ever and then a plod around to pick up the bridleway I wanted, once more, forestry struck, the actual bridleway I wanted had been swallowed up by logging operations.. There was a reward though. Came down to the car park and mountain bike area by Nant yr Hwch. There a small information centre and tea room there. What is more, it was open. Fantasmagorical, a cup of tea is never to be missed in such circumstances. The chappie was apologetic, he only had cakes and the such. Well, I had a slice of carrot cake, finished off his fruit cake, stuffed a couple of scones in the rucksack with a bit of flapjack and polished off a large pot of tea. It was welcome and much needed. It was a road plod from there down to Llwynderw. On the map the path is marked as a bridleway. Ok, the first bit was not too bad, however, as I climbed higher towards the saddle it all became a boggy morass. It was obvious that at one time there had indeed been a well defined track but now it was just horrible going. Dropped down towards Lyn Brianne reservoir. Stopped just short of the road. literally stepping off the path on to a nice flat bit of ground. Some hard going today.

Thursday 17th April. Camped OS explorer map 187. gr 811328.
Well, I knew when I was studying the map last night that today was going to be a tough one and so it proved. Was packed up and away early this morning. The final bit of path leading down to the road had been washed away which led to an interesting little scramble on a tiny ledge of loose shale. Followed the road around to Bwlch-y-ffin. A few flurries of snow on the way. The intention was to pick up the track that would lead up and over the hill and allow me to drop down towards Cynnant. Unfortunately there was a plethora of tracks, one newly cut and several leading off in all directions and obviously used by farm vehicles. After some thrashing around by some recently felled timber and more bits of track it was obvious that unless I struck off off across country relying on the compass it was going to be no go. rather than mess about I decided on the longer route and headed straight down the road the road towards Rhandirmwyn. long, tiresome miles. Serendipity though, just outside the village another tea shop an open too. To be honest I was hesitant. It looked a wee bit like one of those twee olde worlde tea shoppies and I felt and looked scruffy with travel worn gear and muddy boots. However, the lady was most kind. "Was I hungry?" She asked, suggesting I may like her local ham and eggs. What an offer to make, how could I refuse! First I was brought a huge pot of tea and then the food. Wow, the ham was humungous, it literally covered a full sized dinner plate and was over a quarter of an inch thick; on top lay two large fried eggs. With this came two very fresh rolls and a pot of butter. This repast opened an eye with a 'I dare you' look. Rising to the challenge I polished off the lot and downed four cups of tea. All for just six pounds. it was the only welcoming thing in the whole area though. Trying to pick up footpaths and even bridleways. Gates with chains and padlocks. Keep out and private signs abounded. Came around by the village sewage works, across a field and up a track to where I am certain I was deliberately misled by a woman with a very plummy accent. She was insist ant the track I was aiming for was private property and pointed me off in another direction. yes, I should have stayed my ground, however, I did not have the time to argue. As I knew it would, the track she put me on ended in a field. Rather than back track I carried on, across a double barb wire fence to Crincae and up on to the road. Around and on to another bridleway. met a couple of farmers, what a change in character. "Yes dear, this is the track you are wanting then. Sorry it is so muddy, we haff been running up and down it with the tractors." Followed it around to Penddrainllwyn. From there followed the lane down to the main road by Cynghordy. A quicky shuffle down the main A483 and another footpath up through the woods by the Allt y Cefn and then up to Cefn farm. Down the lane to Tan y Pal. Another footpath around to Little Hall. There should have been another footpath from there leading up to the lane that runs up to Blaen Tir. As often happens, what is on the map and what is actually on the ground do not correspond. Once the farm track ran out just struck up across a field and through the woods to the lane. At least from Blaen Tir there was a rough track around to Glandwr. From there it was a wearisome, footsore plod uphill and around to Cefnpwllhen farm. On the map there was a tiny track marked running down from the farm towards the A40. Saw the farmer and asked permission as it was not marked as a public right of way. he was most complimentary that I had bothered to ask his permission. Came down by Pentebrach, straight across the main road and back up the other side to pick up the bridleway that runs from Troed y Rhiw. By now it was getting late and I was weary. It had been obvious that finding somewhere to camp was not going to be easy. By close study of the map I did have a plan though. Just before Dagfa farm there was a track running in to some deciduous woodland. it was a little worrying though that as I came up the bridleway to see farm buildings. however, these where just that, the actual farmhouse was further up the track. The track that runs in to this wood had been little used and I am tucked in out of sight. Water had been a bit of a problem. Needs must though and I snuck in to the farm yard. Today has been long, as I knew it would be, I had set myself a hard goal in attempting to cover this distance. it is satisfying though to have actually done it.

Friday 18th April. Pontardawe.
Today was the final push. My aim was to be close in to Pontardawe where I would be staying with folks. It was arranged that I would get as close in as possible and then ring up at around 1800hrs to give my whereabouts. It was going to be tricky and would mean another long day. The quickest and slightly easier route meant several miles of travelling through the lanes. Thus it was a foot pounding walk around by
Myddfai, the Cross Inn, (closed unfortunately) Llanddeusant. Those where relentless miles. The lanes wind through rolling countryside and switchback up and down with steep drops and equally steep climbs. It was a pleasure to get out on to the open moorland. Picking up one of the Brecon Ways, there is more than one. With good ground to be walking on I came past the disused quarries. Once more A navigational error found me on the path that leads over towards the Dan yr Ogof area. it was not what I wanted.. A quick check of map and compass, and few mutterings under my breath. 'Make a decision, any decision'. Came across country to pick up the river. Could not find the path that crosses the ridge that runs beside it. In a
moment of utter madness I decided to head off down the gorge. It was something I had looked at before but had never done. Well, it was interesting. People had been that way before but I bet not many. It involved some minor scrambling, boulder hopping, detours over steep bits of hillside. Negotiating over rock falls, ducking under massive over hanging boulders, inching across one or two greasy ledges. Through in the odd bit of bog to add to the mix. A fitting end to a weeks walking. Picked up a path further down. this led to the ruins of Dorwen farm. Once I came down by Pen Y Wern I was on an easier path and able to pick up the pace. My aim was to come out on the A4068 by Mount Pleasant. Did this by the allotted time of 180hrs.. Kept moving down the valley and was picked up just five miles short of Pontardawe.
The whole aim of this walk was to see how my fitness was. With the TGOC coming up I wanted to test things out a bit. it has been a long while since I have done anything this serous. Mileage wise it works out very roughly at some one hundred and twenty three miles. On average, 7 miles, 25, 28, 33, 30. My navigation needs brushing up a a little maybe. Weather wise it has not been bad, cold winds, frost, sleet, hail and a wee bit of snow. Maybe that does not sound so good but in between there has been sun and good visibilty. that and some good wild camps. As the song says, "It's been some hard travelling." But fun.