TGO 2021 I'm Not Paranoid I Really Am Being Followed

Frightened rabbits aka JJ and J on the refurbished Queen Street station. More challengers in the background

 This was The Plan:

Actually the plan was planned in 2019 for 2020. 2020 was cancelled, obviously, and so, we were to use 2020's plan for 2021, except that in 2020 there would have been three of us - Me, JJ and Margaret aka Beryl. This was to be a shortish route so that Beryl aka Margaret could get back to a wedding which meant we needed to finish on the Tuesday. However, both the wedding and Beryl aka Margaret were cancelled, or at least, postponed so we had a short route for just me and JJ. This was just as well since JJ had some surgery five weeks before the Challenge and a short route would have been needed anyway. It's an ill-wind wot blows your recycling bin away, as we say in Crook.

We began by heading West by mistake

McCain's tower. A bit chipped in places

And so, it came to pass, that after almost six hours in Wetherspoons in Oban and a night in Oban Old Fowks Hostel (aka YHA), me and JJ set off at a blistering pace back to  Oban Wetherspoons for a well-earned breakfast.  And then, and only then did we seek out McCains Folly which was badly placed up a steep hill. The we got lost a bit and eventually found ourselves in Glen Lonan for the long road walk to Taynuilt. Our plan, as amended by Section 3, Para 2 (b) of the Big Plan For 2021, saw us walking only eight of the Queen's miles to a lovely spot just off the road, quite a bit short of Taynuilt. This was NOT A MISTAKE, given that most people would head for Taynuilt at least on Day 1, but our plan was to get there at lunchtime on Day 2. For lunch, see? Smart eh?

Midgies can't find us under this bridge

Glen Kinglass

Loch Etive

The Wobbly Bridge of Taynuilt

Shopping

Now the odd thing about Blugger is that it loads the pictures in exactly the wrong order and if anybody tries to move a picture, it immediately disappears.  But anyway I shall try to continue without having ANY KIND OF WOBBLY.....

We progressed, exactly as planned unto the fleshpots of Taynuilt where we had lunch in the tearoom there and shopped, diffidently and inefficiently with a lurking and almost seething disappointment around the lack of midgies.

We managed to put this right late that evening in the wilds of Glen Kinglass, where we found a bit of a shortage in the area of camping spots and , due to industrialisation of the place, a completely inaccurate set of maps. This wasn't much bother since, to save weight we had shrunk our maps to such an extent that we couldn't read them anyway.  Lots of lovely midgies in Glen Kinglass anyway, which cheered us up no end and resulted in kilt-abandonment and the donning of leggings for the next day which was rainy. The midgie followed us up the glen but gave up as we crossed over to Loch Dochart. It seems that midgies are a bit lazy when it comes to crossing contours.

Time for more pics IN THE WRONG ORDER... (Doesn't bother me at all........)

Loch Rannoch brew

Aaargh.... trees........

JJ following the tracks

Gorton Bothy

Camping near Gorton bothy

JJ on the drove road to Crieff

Wobbly bridge number 2

Loch Dochart

Camp at Loch Dochart

Midgieless once again, we battered on to Lochart which, in a warm summer breeze and on a little isthmus, we had a fablious camp. Worra lovely spot....  At some point around here we might have discovered that it was now verboten to travel to or from Manchester. This prompted JJ to mention to anybody he met that he was from Manchester. One person fainted. Another called the police. Most just smiled weakly and took a step or two away.... 

We were soon in the bar at Victoria Bridge, talking to West Highland Wayfarers, playing a guitar and drinking cold and fizzy stuff - and then, not too long after, and finding a spot by the River Shira (named after a Geordie footy player, I expect), we camped with a view of some Big Hills, just a bit short of our target of Gorton Bothy.

And in the morning we bashed on through a gap in the forest to Loch Rannoch for a shoreside camp - a bit off-route, but it was hot and we'd marched for a long time through brain stultifying forest.  

The plan was to hit Kinloch Rannoch at lunchtime the next day. (Can you spot the pattern here?)

Loch an Oiseanneach

JJ looking unjustifiably happy

Heading around the back of Schiehallion

Rob Roy Way

Aberfeldy distillery

Fishing hut rain shelter

Good grief, what on earth is that?

Camp around the back of Schiehallion

Schiehallion

Ian Cotterill turns up in Kinloch Rannoch

Our plan was to do some shopping at Kinloch Rannoch - which we did - and, as a change to the dehydrated we bought some almost proper food in the form of corned beef, sweetcorn and rice (we couldn't get spuds). So our camp under the slopes of Schiehallion was a bit better fed than normal. In the morning we had a bit of a scrap with a lot of contours but managed to cross the hill to the banks of the River Tay, where it chucked it down but, luckily there was a fisherman's shelter, so.....  we dripped along to Aberfeldy for dinner and decided  to stay in Aberfeldy for the night at the campsite. This allowed even more drinking , eating and shopping, so the next night's menu was to be stewed beef, baked beans and more rice...

Breakfast at the cinema and  a sort of lunch at Ballinluig, which wasn't at all pretentious, being soup served in a bowl on a damaged Welsh roofing slate and a bit of bread balanced on a pebble. 

After a chat with Dan at the Halfway House, who remembered us from 2018 (lovely chap, noisy dog) we trundled over to Loch an Oiseanneach Mor (Loch an Oyshenach, according to Dan). This is another quite lovely spot as it happens.

Oddly enough, from here on, in this pieblog, the pictures out of Blogger are now appearing in the correct order. The text is in the wrong place, though.

Getting warm in the tussocks

Steve at Kirkmichael

JJ on a bridge

Belties

Camp above Glen Dajackson

Last hill

Dogs aren't allowed on a TGO challenge, but the rules are silent on the subject of rabbits

Loch of Linthrathen

Its bloody shut. We'll just wait.....

Up The Jungle

And so, shotly after leaving Loch an Oisenneach, it all went a bit wrong. The path, which appears on some maps, disappeared and some off-piste Pennine-like countryside appeared. Happily, it was mainly downhill/ But for a while we bashed through Tussock, Heather and Bog (capital letters used to make it sound like a firm of accountants) - until, proper knackered, we reached forest paths which lead us all the way into Kirkmichael where there is a lovely village shop which does hot pies and tea. Here, we met challenger Steve, last seen being followed by a clutch of midgies in Glen Kinglas. 

We progressed - passing 2018's camping spot and entering yet more rough stuff to Glen Shee, then up Glen Dajackson or whatever it was called (look, see - we were getting tired and fractious, so we didn't care at this point and on to apparently waterless moors. 

Eventually a spring appeared near an ancient settlement site and we could settle anciently into our tabernacles for minced beef, carrots and spuds followed by fruit cocktail and Bell's whisky. A noisy night of snoring and calling after Kylie in the night followed....

And in the morning it was all sweetness and light for half a mile then the struggle with the landscape returned until we hit the roads in Glen Isla.

We had a brief incident in Glen Isla when we noticed that we were being stalked by a small domestic rabbit. At first, there was a frission of fear at being followed by an animal, who's motivation could only be guessed. Did we appear to be a tasty alternative to the usual dandelion diet? Or did our packs look ideal for a stowaway and what damage would this do to our finely balanced and healthy diet of fresh vegetables wot we were carrying?  Apparently, it was on a romantic mission to a nearby cottage which also had a rabbit. The farmer and two of his sons appeared on an ATV and, after some chasing about, recaptured the waskally things and returned it to it's pen with an instruction not to let it out again.....

We headed for the Wee Bear Cafe just by Loch of Lintrathen. Miles past. Shoulders ached. Grumpiness and sweat was the order of the day. And when we arrived.......... it was closed till July 1. We could have waited. We waited for a bit, in fact, consuming water and cheese as the pitiless sun beat down on the bit between the bottom of our kits and the top of our socks. Eventually, it was time to go. I had identified a bijoux camping spot not too far away by a river. More eventually we arrived and found...... a jungle. Lots of nettles and deep grass and fallen trees and blackfly and the rumble of herds wilderbeast thundering magnificently over the Plains of Angus. Actually, the last bit isn't true. We had a lovely, quiet night. Nobody in their right mind would camp in there....

Roads.....

Kirrimuir (mainly closed on Mondays)

Forfar campsite

Heading for Kenny's cafe in Forfar

Lovely path near Dunnichen

Battle memorial

More roads

Friokheim

Marion's lawn

Yet more roads

Must get the wife's mother a birthday card.......

And now it was time for a couple of days road walking. We decided to re-route to Kirriemuir, which wasn't too far away and which would have hot tea and pies and other delights. Here, we enjoyed a huuuuge bridie or Cornish Pastie. But as big as your head. 

And then we plodded on to Forfar where we camped on the campsite, joined by Mr and Mrs Skipp. We ate well in a proper eating-place and drank beer and in the morning, we got butties and strawberries from a bakery and had a big breakfast before plodding on once again to Lethem where the Picts once won against the Northumbrians 2 - 0. Lethem also provided yet more scoff.

And so did Friokheim where we joined the Skipps once again to watch the Englend- Germany match. Watching England play footie in a Scottish pub may seem a risky thing to do, but the natives in Friokheim are gentile and friendly and let us play their guitar (this is not a euphamism by the way)

TGO Challenger extraordinaire Marion also offered us a section of her lawn to camp on as she lives nearby. So that's what we did - a short bus journey, more snoring, a lovely breakfast and a lift back to Friokheim and we were on our way once again. More road plodding brought us to Lunan Bay and a dip for me (the only time I wore my undies!) and tea and a taxi to Montrose. The End. 

This was my 16th TGO challenge and a very enjoyable one. Maybe, in a week or two I might begin planning a 17th.

Thanks to JJ (he's from Manchester by the way) - for the socialising with the various people we met along the way - when I walk solo, I don't tend to talk to many people and for putting up with the string of very poor jokes, occasional sulks and playing all the right chords, but not necessarily in the right order (Sloop John B was, frankly, murdered in Friokheim.

If you enjoyed this, send me all your money. I'm in the middle of a campaign to rid the world of malt whisky and funds are needed. Thank you in advance.

The end. That's me in the middle

February Fill Dyke

 

February was quite snowy and mainly sunny and quite beautiful in lots of ways, but I felt that travel restrictions ought to confine me to Crook and, maybe, at a push, Wolsingham. As far as fitness is concerned, things did come together quite a bit - there's another chart below which shows that finally, or maybe , eventually in week 4 I managed more mileage than in the same week last year. Other weeks were..er...weak. It rained in week 3 and the snow melted and the dykes filled....  I put this increase in activity down to Li Yang. Li Yang poo-poos the idea of a walk which is less than 15 miles and would much prefer 20 or 25. We walked quite a bit together up to the summer of 2020 then lockdowns, holidays, fine malt lassitude and, general couldn't be arsed took over. But she popped up again, and some longer walks have started taking place since then.  

The chart below shows miles walked each week during February  in 2020 and 2021. Week 3 was pathetic but week 4 won the prize. (Doesn't include LTD's routine doggy walks)

In other news, the TGO challenge has been postponed from early May to mid June/end of July. JJ is OK with this, subject to the timing of some medical interventions and, if I'm honest, I prefer June in Scotland, partly becasue it doesn't really ever go dark. I like daylight. What can I say? The timing of this has squished up against my 70 hills plan and, I've been considering this and..... (picture of car crash follows...)

...I've been considering this at some length and it strikes me (the idea, not the car...) that the Lake District will be absolutely heaving in the summer of 2021 and, not only that, but that many of the heavers will be feckin eejits and many of these will be fly-camping  or, as some would incorrectly label it, "wild camping" And they'll be doing their usual thing about abandoning their cheapo tents and general stupid amounts of debris and, frankly, shite, often in the true meaning if the word and, basically, I can't be doing with this. So I've decided to have a go at the 70 hills in 2022, hopefully with a May 2022 TGO challenge as a fitness- enhancer.

So, this means that I have more time for jaunts in May and July 2021. I'll be doing some Crook Rambler stuff, but most of this is on Sundays, leaving midweeks free to wander freely , providing pandemic becomes endemic....

The picture of the burned-out vehicle by the way was taken on Doctors Gate road. It was one of three. Apparently, the fashion at the moment is to drive at a stupid pace over the bumpier bits of the moor - quarry spoil heaps, in fact, until the car becomes disabled or otherwise irrecoverable.... and then set fire to it. Given the comments above about the prospects for Cumbria in the summer of 2021, it's hard not to conclude that the British are a nation of moronic arseholes. I do know that this is mainly not true, although, it has to be admitted, that the arsehole population is quite high and, in 2021, they probably won't be going to Spain for their holibobs. 

But now, spring is springing. The sun has finally appeared through the Pietowers bathroom window, the snowdrops are running to seed and some of the daffies are flowering. The Pietowers population of sparrows (there's about 40 of them in the hedge) are attacking each other, there's a cheeky robin and a couple of little wrens and I've just bought fifty quid's worth of dehydrated food just in case I might want to nick off and camp somewhere a bit discreetly. Its probably best if this isn't mentioned to anybody just yet and I wouldn't go anywhere too far away or anywhere dangerous..... 

January - Sick and Tired You've Been Hanging on Me

 

January, mainly was a "propah" winter as far as globally-warmed winters go. Plenty of snow and plenty of ice. This was Just Rubbing It In. Perfect hard neve formed towards the end of the month as a result of some freeze/that cycles and a large amount of snow over on the Weardale Fells, all of which shone bright white from a distance in any sunshine that happened to be going.  And that was the problem with January. The temptation to sneak up to the far-distant parts of Weardale and go and play on the deep and hard snow was...er..... tempting. But I didn't. Instead, me and LTD were confined to the immediate vicinity of Crook, with the odd adventure from Wolsingham. This was doing my training for a BIG walk in July no good at all.

The chart above (which, I believe is the first chart ever to appear in this Pieblog) shows this year's mileage as compared with last year's mileage by week. As you can see, whilst there was a good start, fueled by enthusiasm and some remaining Christmas cake and booze, things didn't really get going. This was partly due to some really poor weather and partly due to the shackles of Covid 19 rules and partly due to an inability to get up early enough to do a long walk. I did manage a couple of ten-milers and even a fifteen mile walk, but 2020 had a 20-miler.......  The Christmas cake and fine malt whiskies are now used up.  The bottom lines are that  in January 2021 I walked 116 miles as opposed to 159 in January 2020 and I need to do more, not less.

The task ahead is further complicated by what appears to be a further complication. The idea was to do a walk covering 70 mountains in my 70th year in July, starting on the 10th of July (10X7=70). Part of the training regime would be the 2021 TGO challenge which is planned for May 2021. But now, the organisers have announced that maybe, only maybe, though, that the TGO challenge could be moved to June or July. My priority would be to do the TGO challenge whenever it happens and, I believe, JJ has the same view. So, I'd have to do the 70 tops later on - probably September when the schools are back and the warmth and daylight are still with us.

I have the list of hills and a provisional route (the second attempt at a route) Thus, the attempt would begin at Haweswater and end at Langdale after performing a kind of figure-8. I would probably camp, mainly wild camping but with the odd campsite and fish and chip shop. I would aim to take LTD with me, which also provides another logistical challenge.......

This challenge involves Lucky's supply of kibble. The problem is that kibble can only be bought in quantities which are too big to reasonably carry. LTD can carry about 3 days supply and I could carry a similar extra amount, but at some point, re-supply would be needed. I might have to suggest to Mrs K that trips to Keswick  and Eskdale in September (Or July) would be Just The Thing.

Its all still in the planning stage - I might add a day or two as rest days. In the meantime, I think I need to do a really long walk or two....

Finally - the charity bit - last time I did this sort of thing, I managed to raise a fair amount of spondoolies by using those "reviews" that bloggers used to get to do, in which they got given free kit and had to write about how nice  and sploshingly good value for money whatever it was a company wanted reviewed. The companies were really very open to the suggestion that they send two bits of whatever kit it was and let me sell one and keep the other.... but nobody asks for reviews any more....  So I'm occasionally having a "trying-to-think-something-up" session and not being very successful about it, yo be honest. Some people raise charity cash by just asking for it, but I'm not really keen on that. I like people to get something in exchange.... other than a brief feeling of smug saintlyhood...  Not that there's anything wrong with a brief feeling of saintlyhood...

What Should I Do With My 70th Year?

One thing is for sure that I'll never have another 70th year. I might well be at the summit here and, as it's probably all downhill from now on, I was thinking that I should mark the year with something special, somehow. And maybe do something charitable such as re-establish my fundraising for Mind wot I did a few years ago and which was mildly successful, though I say it myself. The idea that I came up with, one boozy Christmas night whilst being locked-down, was to climb 70 2000 foot hills in one continuous expedition. Withe a tent. And a small black and white dog. The most convenient place to do this would be the English Lake District. This is because it's quite handy for knipetowers and the hills are generally (that is to say, most of the time)  grouped together in closely-packed, friendly groups. And in-between there are outdoor shops where dehydrated food and equipment can be bought should the need arise. These outdoor shops are also in small towns which are fully equipped with hostelries, pie shops and off-licences. I though this was a smashing plan.

And then I had a desultory look at an on-line map of Cumbria with all the Hewitts and Nutalls marked on it and added up some of the distances and ascent. And I thought....."bugger"  This looks quite a hard thing to do for a 69-year-old, fat, type 2 (the best type) diabetic with a dicky ticker and a lazy dog. And, not only that, but the entire country is currently in lockdown and we're not supposed to travel very far for exercise, so access to hills with closely-packed, not to say over-friendly contours is not only verboten but also anti-social, unpopular and a bit dangerous. So training for this could be difficult. Training needs to be up big, steep hills with lots of uphill and over several consecutive days and this sort of thing isn't available just now.

But we travel in hope. In May 2021 me and JJ are booked in to do the TGO challenge and, whilst we don't have a specially hard route, 14 days of walking with big packs should be really helpful. This is planned for May, so the big hope is that it will actually go ahead. It will be a close-run thing I suspect. All digits are crossed. In the meantime, I'll just have to walk as much as possible. Maybe I'll be able to sneak up Weardale soon for some walking in deep snow.

As far as the charity fundraising is concerned, I'll try to use the same strategy as last time - the philosophy being that whatever I do will avoid the "sponsor me on a jolly" type of thing in favour of a presumption that contributers will actually receive something in return. I'll need to think about this. Last time there was some level of sponsorship for my involvement in the North East Skinny Dip. If people paid enough, I would keep my pants on. Just like everything else, the event might take place, and, if it does, all other things being equal, I will take part.

 All the pictures in this post are from very recent local doggy walks. None of these are enough to get fit enough for climbing all those hills. I need to walk further at least and, hopefully, I'll get enough mojo to work on this starting now.. or at least, soon.

Lucky The Dog Escapes From The Fireworks Damply

England went into a sort of semi-ignored lockdown just before Gunpowder Plot (we nearly forgot) - and so, we had to do our anti-firework camp a couple of days early, which was a shame because the weather on our re-arranged date was, frankly, 'orrible. On the A66, it blew a hoolie and chucked it down with the wipers going on Very Fast. But at Dufton, the air was still and the sun was shining. This was Good. We set off up the Pennine Way aiming for High Cup Nick. The intention was to camp at Maize Beck where there's a beautiful little limestone gorge into which we could insert ourselves for a couple of nights out of the way and sheltered from any further windy blasts.

Oh no..

Our Akto very near Maize Beck. Hillfog rolling in again

The Gorge at Maize Beck

We weren't more than a mile and a bit out of Dufton when it started raining. Bits of sunshine promised that this was Just A Shower. But it wasn't. The sky darkened and the mist rolled up the hill. And the rain battered down. Iy had rained quite a bit in the days before, so some little becks which normally, a little fat beardy bloke with an old black and white mongrel could just stride across with one mighty stride, became a gamble. Like a spillage of alphabeti spaghetti, a slip could spell disaster and a wet tumble over the whin sill crag into oblivion (the word "oblivion" should ideally be delivered quite a lot like Riff Raff in the Rocky Horror Show. Practice it now..."Oblivion"

When we arrived at Maize Beck it was in spate and it was still raining with a Big R, so instead of camping on one of the little beckside platforms I opted for a little dip next to a cave a few metres awat. The cave had a short section of beck emerging , running along for ten metres or so and then disappearing down a hole, presumably to emerge in the wall of the gorge a bit lower down. The akto went up smartish, the wet dog installed, water collected, brew on, shot of rum, tea and darkness. It rained  heavily all night and a new spring appeared just behind the tent. LTD moved not at all, other than to shuffle into a new position. The long night wore on cosily but with some drippy condensation. And in the morning it was raining. We were all clagged in. Doggy walks were short and taken reluctantly. Snoozing was the best thing. Brewing was the next best thing. And eating. And reading. And the radio. All with the constant nearby roar of the becks, the machine gun fire from Warcop, and the occasional boom of artillery. LTD doesn't seem top mind machine guns and artillery..... and he snoozed on.

Another night past. The drizzle stopped and the moon and stars appeared, the rushing clouds making them seem that they were on their way somewhere quite quickly. 5:00 a.m and brewing up followed by a moonlit doggy walk, followed by a return to cosy bags and a grey and creeping dawn for another snoozette - Interrupted at some vague, semi-concous point by the sound of shouting , grouse calling and shotguns. Then machine gun fire again. I peered out. Half a mile away I could see a bloke with a flag tramping through the heather. There was a grouse-shoot in progress. In the cold and sunny morning and to the warlike sounds and booming Maize Beck, we left.  The odd thing about this stuff is that when you're leaving the hill and everybody else is just setting off, it feels as if I'm doing the wrong thing. Lockdown would start at midnight. There would be no more of this kind of stuff for a while.

 Incidentally - I just couldn't get control over the justification of the first paragraph of text and one picture had been selected by blogger to be ignored when it came to resizing it. So the text is all at one side and, as far as I can tell, is determined to stay there and I've deleted the picture.