Anyway,
grinning like the Cheshire Cat I popped down to the Co-op and bought a sandwich
for my lunch. Good move, as over the
coming days I was to became profoundly bored with trail mix and cereal bars. Then back to the B and B. Full Scottish.
Re-sort pack (again). Up to the
West Highland Hotel to sign out at 9.10am, meaning my Challenge formally started
with a sit down, as I then had to wait until Bruce Watts weighed anchor at
10.15pm.
 |
| Mike Knipe contemplates a 45 minute boat trip before he can get to the pub |
As a whole
big bunch of Challengers waited for Bruce’s boat it started to rain lightly and
intermittently. Wanting not to risk
having wet clothing earlier than necessary, I pulled on cag and overtrousers. These were to remain on until I was finally
in my tent several hours later. I
spotted a ULA Catalyst pack on another Challenger, and thus I met “Reuben’s
Dad”, James Boulter, for the first time outside cyber space. I have a bad habit of “knowing” if I like
someone instantly, and I did. Thoroughly
nice guy. Also on the boat was another person
known, until then, only through the medium of wireless and fibre optics (although us
country dwellers should be so lucky to ever get fibre optics).
This was Superdawg’s Dad, Mike Knipe, him of the driest sense of humour
outside the Sahara. And our new Dutch
friends, Chaz and Dave were there too.
 |
| Crossing Loch Nevis on the way to Inverie |
45 minutes
later we arrived at Inverie to the organised chaos of packs being removed from
the hold (I am making this up as I go along, as the hold was just a blue
tarpaulin on the deck) and passed up on to the bustling quayside. Ok, this wasn’t Rotterdam but there was a
bit of bustle. Whilst James and I
faffed around taking photos and getting our Pacer Poles out, Mike Knipe and
various other old hands headed off at a speed of knots. Not to walk, of course, but to get to the bar
of the pub in Inverie before a queue built up.
That was my last view of Mike on the Challenge.
I walked with
James for the first 45 minutes or so until our routes diverged. I then headed off the LR track to get my
first minor taste (I was only in it for 15 minutes) of Scottish bog as I cut
across to Gleann Meadall and then started the gentle climb up to the col at the
top of the Glen. I walked this section
alone, although I was aware of Chaz and Dave someway behind me. The rain came on properly and its intensity
increased steadily. There were a group
of Challengers resting at the Col when I arrived. I believe some had left their packs there and
had just “popped up” a nearby hill.
I had no
intentions at any time on this Challenge of doing anything like that on my walk. I had one aspiration and one aspiration
only. To get to the east coast. Hills could wait for another time and another
crossing. Later in the Challenge, by the
time I reached Braemar, this aspiration had actually turned into a specific,
well thought out and simple strategy, which I shall elaborate on in a later
post for anyone sad enough still to be reading by then.
The path down
to Sourlies was far easier than I had anticipated; less steep than the
impression I had gained from previous Challengers. I walked across the bog and salt marshes,
admiring a few grazing deer, with two others – I think it was Matt Little and
Ian Somerville and the tide was low enough to allow us to walk round to the
bothy on the beach and so avoid a final stiff pull up over the headland.
 |
| That's my little Akto near the Sourlies Bothy |
There is some
lovely turf for camping on just before the bothy. I decided to avoid this and save later
arrivals the horror of my snoring by going on just beyond the bothy to a
smaller patch of turf near a stream. The
Akto was up by 4.45pm. The rain hammered
down. I hunkered down in the warmth of
my tent and sleeping bag and brewed up.
Dave and Chaz went passed (should that be past?) at 5.30pm planning to
walk to a bothy beyond Glen Dessarry (I later heard they walked until 11.00pm).
After my
first dehydrated meal of the walk I thought that was me for the day. Then I looked out of my tent. The stream was well up. The tide was in and the loch was high. Pools of water were developing all around my
tent. I packed most of my stuff in case
I had to bail out. The rain
continued. At 8.00pm I was taking the
tent down and moving to the turf the other side of the bothy which was on
slightly higher ground. Ian’s Duomid had
been near mine. He decided to risk
staying put. I had half an hour by the
fire in the bothy before bed back in the tent.
Ian was moving his Duomid in the dark at 11.00pm as the rain kept
falling….
 |
| After the move: this was a far drier spot |
