‘A guest perspective’
Rain of biblical intensity fell from the sky. I sat in a lay-by in Glencoe and stared out of the window. It was a dismal sight. I turned the engine back on for the fifty minute drive left to reach the Distant Hills Bed and Breakfast in Spean Bridge. For my seventieth birthday, my wife and children had given me a ‘Scottish Walking Holiday’, and after much research I had decided to join the Distant Hills’ hard-walking week.
Eighteen hours later, I was back in that same lay-by, but this time in a much better frame of mind and looking forward to our first walk. When I climbed out of Dave’s van, Dave being our mountain guide, there was definitely a view. The Weather Gods had relented and perhaps were now even smiling on us. My optimism had grown as we’d approached the Ballaculish bridge and a broad shaft of sunlight had broken through the clouds to light up the whole approach to Glencoe. Today we were going up Buachaille Etive Beag.
I was one of ten guests, including six returners from the year before, from Aberdeenshire to Sussex, and perhaps more surprisingly, a jet-lagged couple who’d just flown in from Cereal City* in the US of A. They must be mad I thought, but then again they were Americans. Mad or not, they and everyone else began putting on boots and looked up at our prospective route.
Dave was not a disciple of ‘throw them in at the deep end’. There was to be no vertical, pathless, energy-sapping, thousand feet of ascent through knee-high heather. He told us it was a well-graded good path, which sounded fine by me. This was my second group walking holiday and each had been accompanied by a week of worry beforehand – was I fit enough, would I keep up? I needn’t have worried – throughout the week the pace that was set was consistently well-judged. We weren’t tortoises, but we weren’t trying to keep up with runaway hares either.
As we climbed, accompanied by an intermittent soundtrack of rutting stags, the vista expanded. We reached Stob Coire Raineach, our first Munro, and looked south to the enticing ridge that led up to the second. We descended to the bealach between the tops. Frustratingly the wind had been rising, so much so that we were forced to stop during the prolonged heavier gusts. In such situations the ‘heart’ may say one thing, but in a group situation you are giving someone else the responsibility to be the ‘head’ and follow their informed decision. We descended to the car park. At least we would be back earlier for coffee and cakes, or to go in the hot tub and to hear about the possibilities for the following day.
Arriving at Distant Hills on the Sunday afternoon had felt slightly surreal, the sense that I already knew the owners, Dani and Cameron. Deja vu? No, rather that I had witnessed their attempt for international mega-stardom – I had seen their winning appearance on Channel 4’s Four in a Bed (if this cultural reference means nothing then you will need to look it up). Luckily they were as friendly and genuine as they had come across on screen.
Dave’s choice of our routes was based on a number of factors including the likely weather. If you book a holiday in the Highlands in October then the weather is bound to be a bit of a lottery – some people might say unkindly that if you book in any month of the year then it will be, but on Tuesday our numbers hadn’t come up. Somehow though this didn’t really matter. Some people might think that enjoying spending five or six hours mostly up in the cloud, with wind and rain thrown in, is strangely masochistic. Yes, I would have loved to have seen the views, but this was the difference about walking in a group – by myself, or even as a couple, this would have been sheer purgatory, an unremitting slog, a bit grim in fact. I’d found the same thing the previous year in Snowdonia in much harsher conditions – being able to chat with other people, moving within the group or being by yourself for a bit, changed the whole dynamic of the experience. Shared adversity is good for bonding, but bonding and views would be even better!
Eventually we descended to the jewel beneath the crown – Lochan Coire Àrdair under the looming mist-shrouded precipices of Creag Meagaidh. It was a magnificent setting. One that made you want to see it under all manner of conditions. Truly memorable.
Wednesday was a free day. This meant that there was no need for breakfast at the crack of dawn. We weren’t quite climbers rising in an alpine hut at three am. to cross an ice-field before it’s peppered by stone fall, but if you are going to do a long walk in shortening October days then an early start is essential. Whatever the time though, Cameron’s breakfasts were most definitely worth getting up for. I am still undecided whether I preferred his full Scottish or the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.
After discussing the options with Dani, some climbed the Pap of Glencoe, others walked locally or went sightseeing. My plans had been fixed in my head since booking. I headed out along the Road to the Isles and walked out to Peanmeanach beach, before driving on to Arisaig. As an unrepentant, hopeless, romantic, I’d wanted to gaze nostalgically at the Isle of Eigg, where forty- nine years previously we’d spent our honeymoon wild camping. If I’d changed a bit since 1973, fortunately the view hadn’t. It was a pity my other half was back home in Hull!
Type ‘sublime mountain moments’ into google and by rights ‘reaching the summit of Creag Pitridh at midday on Thursday 13th October 2022′ should come up. It had been a heavily grey morning on the long walk in before we started the climb from Lochan na h-Earba. As we gained height there were odd glimpses of sunlight on distant mountains to the south-west. Mist rose tantalisingly from the sides of some of the closer peaks. I am a sucker for trying to get moody mountain photos, shafts of sunlight and mist breaking, so I was spurred on upwards. The weather then completely closed in, the cloud enveloped us as we climbed. It looked like lunch might be a dismal affair. And then almost within touching distance of the top, the clouds lifted and cleared. We suddenly had the most wonderful of three hundred and sixty degree panoramic views. We had some sun! I love day-long, wall to wall sunshine and blue skies, but that moment was unbeatable. It was more than a bit chilly though. Don’t forget your extra layers, Dave wisely said, as we sat down to eat sheltered by the summit cairn.
It was on the descent from our second Munro of the day, Geal Chàrn, that for one of our party disaster struck. She hadn’t got her phone. She must have dropped it! Luckily for her, Dave runs a bespoke ‘Find-your-mobile-phone-4U’ service. After some discussion, he literally started running back up the hillside. When not mountain guiding I believe he races red deer in his spare time. We continued down the path, and when Dave caught us up, it was a time of celebration – owner and phone were happily reunited! There was one more welcome surprise on the descent, a couple of absolutely stunning rainbows including a the full one across Lochan na h-Earba – simply breathtaking. A very long, but very rewarding day.
Dani came out with us on a couple of the walks, leaving Cameron to do things like putting their new barbecue together. Her love of the mountains was obvious, as was her commitment to making their project a success. I was there by myself, as was one other guest, and Dani told me they didn’t want to put off lone walkers by piling on hefty single supplements. I found this a very refreshing attitude, as people aren’t penalised for not having an outdoorsy, hard-walking partner.
Friday started by the shores of Loch Eil, with picture-perfect postcard views of the surrounding mountains reflected in its calm sunlit waters. Forty-five minutes later, on the ascent of Stob Coire a’ Chearcaill, it was a case of everyone putting their full wet weather gear on. That wonderful Scottish weather again! Bouts of rain were sweeping in from the west. Thanks to Dave’s immaculate planning we arrived at the top during one of the sunnier periods. The cloudscapes above the distant ice-white shimmering Loch Linnhe were impressive, but the wind chill was severe, and there was a hint of hail in the sharp downpour as we started our descent. The weather to the south away towards and beyond the Ben was leaden black and forbidding, but this heralded the final icing on the cake. We detoured from the route and climbed a small incline to get the best possible view.
The clouds lifted and the first snow of the year was visible on the top of Càrn Mòr Dearg, lit up by the sun, and then as the clouds drifted away, we saw the snow on the neighbouring parts of the Ben too. We could not have asked for a better finale, though not for the first time in the week I wished I’d put my SLR and telephoto lens in my rucksack.
After some delicious scones, jam and cream, I did some packing before we headed out for our evening meal, our last supper – there were thirteen of us. On the first evening Dani and Cameron had cooked, but on the four walking days we ate at nearby Smiddy House. The food was quite simply superb. We had all previously submitted our particular dislikes, so apologies to anyone who had been hoping for roast parsnips or a banana split. Glenn, the chef, excelled himself and got a deserved round of applause when he came in and introduced himself at the end of the last night. But at this point, I should mention Robert. It’s tempting to write a fifteen hundred word piece just about him or perhaps put together a pitch for him to star in his own mini-series on Netflix. Maitre d’, Mein Host, the Spirit of Smiddy House, eccentrically entertaining, idiosyncratic, on the edge… yes, Robert most certainly added to the dining experience.
We went back to Distant Hills for some convivial last drinks and chat at the end of a cracking evening. It had been a great week which had far exceeded my expectations and I’m confident that everyone else had really enjoyed it too.
Breakfast (I went for the smoked salmon), and my fellow guests started to depart. One turned right for Aberdeenshire, but the rest of us turned left for Fort William and the south; Telford, Kenilworth and Crawley. Sussex seemed a very long drive in a day! I looked it up. Five hundred and twenty-five miles which would take a hundred and seventy four hours which can’t be right and then I realised that this was walking. I’m not sure a Spean Bridge to Crawley long distance footpath will ever get off the ground!
The Americans were flying to Venice, and were expecting less wind and rain! They had planned to see their son who was in the USAF there. Unfortunately a few weeks earlier he had been transferred to Romania… but they’ve got a good story to tell back in *Battle Creek, Michigan, about the time they flew to see their son in Venice, via a walking holiday in Scotland.
I drove south through Glencoe. It was raining. I slowed. People were setting off up the path up Buachaille Etive Beag. I glanced up at my second Munro, Stob Coire Raineach, climbed fifty- three years after my first, Beinn Alligin. Six done now, so two hundred and seventy-six to go. I’d better get a move on… before I shuffle off this mortal coil.
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