Stuart and Jeanie`s Wedding Day on Stac Pollaidh Photo by Roddy

Transcription

Ochils Mountaineering Club
Newsletter September 2013
The Ochils Mountaineer
Issue 118
Newsletter September 2013
Stuart and Jeanie`s Wedding Day on Stac Pollaidh
Photo by Roddy and Elke
www.ochils.com
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NEWS & NOTICES
President`s Pontification
Editor`s Notes
Club Training News
OMC Meets 2014
Newsletter October 2013
ARTICLES
Ramblings and Rumblings with Jeanie and Stuart
Skye meet – May 2013
First French Alps Trip July 2013
In An Emergency – ‘Press’ Red Button To Stop!
Cottage Open Day and BBQ
A breeze round Assynt
X-Country skiing in Geilo, Norway
‘Cliffhanger’: the Bocchette way
Editor: Lucy McNee
Distribution: Jim Shanks
Deadline for next issue: 23rd January 2014
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President`s pontification
As the end of summer approaches for once we can look back at some very good weather. Some
of us decided to seek better weather at Ailefroide in south east France at a time when Scotland
was in the middle of a heatwave. Still you pays your money and takes your chance.
I hope everybody took advantage of the good weather here, and there were a lot of good hill
days. I look forward to catching up.
The French connection in Ailefroide enjoyed mixed weather but despite this a good few rock
routes were done with young Cody showing us the future of O.M.C. climbing. Less mountain
routes due to poor snow conditions.
Congratulations to Stuart and Jeannie on tying the knot on Stac Pollaidh despite a thunderstorm
in the offing.
The official opening of the cottage extension was very well attended with quite a few guests and
locals turning up to have a look round despite it being typical Crianlarich weather. Murray gave
a bit of historical background with Bill Bannerman performing the opening. Hats off to Colin
who managed to get barbecues going in pretty inclement conditions and lastly thanks to Shaw,
Christina, Sara and all others who contributed to making it a very successful day.
Now looking forward to this years programme inside and out plus the club dinner in early
November so remember your nominations for the Golden boot and best magazine article.
Davy
Editor`s Notes
Welcome to the October Edition of the OMC Newsletter.
The advantage of being is editor is getting to read all the articles as they arrive – I`ve thoroughly
enjoyed reading them all and sure you will too. Please keep your articles coming in.
Hopefully I`ve included everyones names this time - appologies to Ian McCabe who wrote “
Blown away on the Big Bad Ben (path)” and Ian McNeish who wrote “Mont Blanc - ‘Super
Dangereux!’ for the last newsletter but their names were missed out by mistake.
We have only had 2 newsletters this year but next year we will be back to the regular 4 newsletter a
year.
Enjoy.
Lucy
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Ramblings and Rumblings with Jeanie and Stuart
Thunder has followed us around since our wedding. Not in a fearful, menacing manner, but
adding excitement and drama to the experience of getting married on Stac Pollaidh then
honeymooning climbing in the alps.
The most fear-inducing time for us was not several days before our wedding, when the forecast
promised sun and heavy downpours (the latter timed perfectly for our ceremony!). A day of
turbulent weather leading to Plan B: making our oaths on a wild, sea-foam-lashed rocky platform
at Reiff, would have been memorable at least. Instead, our hearts sank when, 24 hours to go, our
anathema was foretold: a day of constant, no doubt midge infested, dank rain. Imagine our
incredulity then, on waking at Ardmair on The Day to brilliant sunshine and assurances that it
was to continue through most of the day! Once again the unforecastable Ullapool weather was
shining through!
As our diminutive wedding troupe ascended Stac Pollaidh in brilliant sunshine the heat was
intense and cumuli came into sight above the mountain. Our sweaty bodies welcomed the
fragments of mist that started to wrap themselves around the peaks. We need to thank Elke and
Roddy for being not only our witnesses and photographers, prepared to face whatever the
weather threw at us, but also Elke for what happened next: as she described a hutting experience
in the alps she opened her mouth to say the next word, 'thunder', and simultaneously a distant
rumble joined the conversation!
As we neared the col, a few further claps of thunder seemed to send all other hill goers scurrying
down, leaving us with an empty col and the most incredible atmospheric conditions for a
wedding. Having cooperatively held back for some wedding shots, the thunder let rip as the
ceremony began, making it abundantly clear who was in charge! Trails of mist continuously
veiled then revealed the landscape below us, captivating and diverting from the matters in hand
while the orchestral accompaniment couldn't have been bought! Our humanist celebrant,
Penelope, didn't bat an eyelid, embracing all, and performing a neat balancing trick between
ceremony and elements taking precedent.
Sadly, thunder doesn't visit without rain and having generously held off for our wedding, our
descent was met by the first splatters of rain and by the bottom one and all were soaked; the
bride's dress drenched and the groom's kilt heavy with the volume of water that wool absorbs.
While I'm delighted to say that our first week in the alps as Mr and Mrs MacFarlane was hot and
sunny, thunder lurked in the form of our poor attempts at translating the mountain forecasts, the
hotter than normal conditions foreboding hints of 'orages' that repeatedly came to nothing and
which we started to dismiss, as our inability to fully comprehend the forecaster's meaning was
cramping our style. Instead it seemed preferable to follow the forecast on the mobile, assuring us
of hour after hour of brilliant sun and low percentage of rain. This approach brought us, after
days of choosing short multi-pitch routes, to pitch 11 of the 14 (graded) pitches of Pets de
Rupricaprins, a line leading from just above Ailefroide to the Tete de la Draye some 500 metres
above. This is a varied route we'd coveted for years with a good mix of quality pitches ranging
from 4c to 5 c + and a smattering of scrambles and bushwhacking in between. As I seconded
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Stuart up through the stunning mountain scenery of pitch 11, our elevation appearing to bring us
face to face with the summit of Mont Pelvoux, what had previously been welcome cool cloud
cover now became undeniably a portent of rain and maybe worse. The first drops fell. With a
further three pitches of climbing; several unknown quantities of ungraded ground and a massive
hike back down the hill to go, I set off on the next mixed pitch at a sprint, the terrain being safe
enough for Stuart to follow unbelayed when I ran, literally, out of rope. As thunder once more
clapped around the distant peaks, far more serious than a week and a half before on Stac
Pollaidh, heavy rain drops pelted us. Even if we didn't become struck by lightening or benighted,
we had no escape route and still a 4b; 4c; 5b, and final traverse to negotiate on now soaking
granite. Spying a narrow, shallow and sightly overhung gully to the right of our next pitch I
yelled to Stuart to follow me through a forest of briars as I fled towards it, the rapidly increasing
rolls of thunder making me wonder whether I should shed the quantities of metal climbing gear
around my waist, while struggling to remember the safest position to be on a mountain in an
electrical storm. All this seems somewhat farcical in retrospect: we both arrived safely, if snarled
by savage briars, in the gully. The rain lasted benignly, as if to provide justification for our flight
and the time it took to stow our ropes on a totally dry overhung shelf nearby. It even changed
direction so that the roof above us no longer provided shelter and our jackets beaded up. It lasted
just long enough for us to coorie in as much as possible then, our burst of activity over, we were
denied the opportunity to sit and contemplate our discomfort and fate: instead the rain abated to
drizzle. Being around lunch time the bread, cheese and tomato came out and before we'd finished
eating the rock was steaming and drying nicely. No visceral experience for us then; no cowering
and clinging together beneath the fury of the storm...anticlimax?! Oh no! But we were concerned
(or was it schadenfreude?) for a couple doing a harder route nearby; they had started before us
but on the wrong route, having told us they were doing an easier route. When we had last seen
them the man was doing all the leading and they were about five pitches behind us. At least that
meant they would have been able to walk off when the weather broke as their route had an
escape option.
Our route ended uneventfully and we sat on the Tete de la Draye eating a second lunch and
taking in the views, steeply funnelled down to the improbable patch of civilisation that is
Ailefroide, perilously settled between rockfall and flood water (what finer place to spend a
honeymoon!): to the north east the aiuguilles de Costa Vieille and Aiguille des Freres Estienne,
then swinging north east to the Glacier Blanc; the eastern edge of the Barre does Ecrins and
swooping down to le Pre de Madame Carle...west to Pelvoux, round to Pointe Guyard and the
Pointe de Clapouse and then to the east down the precipitous switchbacks alongside the torrent
d'Ailefroide leading to hamlets then villages as 'civilisation' beckons.
As I write this two days later, sipping coffee, we wait for things to dry out after a 12 hour
electrical storm lasting nearly all the previous afternoon and night. How we enjoyed it from the
cosy birdseye viewpoint of the 'upstairs' of our camper van! How delicious those thunderbolts
rending the night as they slammed into the peaks surrounding Ailefroide...not needing to worry
about the sleeping bag making soggy contact with tent sides! How awesome, the east elevation
of Pelvoux being momentarily illuminated in its entirety by massive sheets of lightning, with no
helicopter call out required! And how satisfying those reverberations running through the van
when you don't fear the imminent collapse of your tent or the groundsheet's hydrostatic head
giving up!
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Here's a quick recipe for the quickest, laziest and yummiest thunder storm comfort food: boil
pasta along with some finely chopped onion and garlic if available. Once tender, add one
deliciously squidgy and pongy french cheese, in dollops. Stir until melted through then season
with ground pepper. Bon apetit! The dishes can wait till the storm subsides.
Jumping forward a few more days, looking for a short multi pitch we hadn't previously climbed,
we decided on the lower pitches of Ein Zwie Draye, escapable after the first six pitches, just
before an aid pitch. This was the route the other couple had said they were climbing on the day
of the brief storm. After an enjoyable climb things got really exciting when we tried to find
where the escape actually led; this being the route our fellow climbers must have taken almost a
week before when abandoning their route. The tiny, steeply transversing, faltering trail led us
hesitantly (well me, anyway!) through slippery dust and pine needles above massive drops,
interspersed with the odd tree so that if you slipped you might be saved or, less fortunately, be
ricocheted from one trunk to the next like some deadly pinball machine with the target the cliff
edge. We thought of those other escaping climbers fleeing the thunder and rain across this
terrain...maybe it would have been firmer underfoot when wet?! However it got 'better' still; the
guide book topo had simply shown the line of the traversing path heading towards the edge of
the page which we had presumed met a path going down...what presumption! As we managed to
navigate some form of route the terrain became all too familiar and I recognised it as the truly
'death on a stick' descent to the abseil point from a route we'd done the previous year! A
cautionary tale for those using even a recognised escape route in a storm! It has to be said though
that the path had improved considerably since last year, perhaps due to increased use.
As for the rest of our honey moon, the weather remained fantastic and we had a fabulous time!
One of our joys when climbing around Ailefroide is the abundance of wild berries. While Stuart
isn't exactly immune to their delights, he's also a focussed climber who, with an objective in his
sights, prefers not to combine the two! I meanwhile have opportunistic tendencies that inevitably
hold up proceedings...here's a little ditty that popped into my head while straggling behind on a
walk-in:
On the Joys of Foraging for Alpine Berries
My new husband and I
Don't always see eye to eye.
He looks up to the crags and hills
Whilst I look down for edibles.
He seeks out clouds in the sky
While I check the undergrowth's dry.
A pacifying handful he'll accept
But I know he only wants to get
Going. Going, going, gone...
Framboise, fraise, cerise, yum yum.
Jeanie MacFarlane
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Skye meet – May 2013
Eighteen OMC folk attended the Skye meet at the Glen Brittle Memorial Hut on the 3rd to the 6th May
2013. The venue was excellent as always, and everyone arrived safely in anticipation of a good
weekend. We even fitted in a potential new member, Steve, who managed to find a bed in the Harry
Potter cupboard behind one of the dormitories.
The weather wasn’t promising initially with high winds, rain, low cloud and snow on the Cuillin being the
order of the day (folk even having to drive through blizzards on the Clunie road to get to the Kyle of
Lochalsh on the Friday).
On the Saturday, the mountaineers kept the reputation of the OMC intact when they went off and did
Blà Bheinn. Another group enjoyed the walk from the Elgol road near Broadford past the old Marble
Quarry to the ruined village of Boreraig (and an extension to Suisnish along the coast for some).
Members also partook of some bagging of local Yeamans around Talisker Bay, an attempt at Bruach na
Frìthe, and of the hills surrounding the hut.
Saturday night was a very social affair, with Colin and Andy doing a wonderful communal meal for 13
folk of trout in white wine followed by cakes, plums in custard, and cheese and biscuits. Well done to
everyone for a wonderful feast – definitely worth repeating.
The evening ended with a great jamming session, the warden and her husband (that’s him with the
guitar in the photo below) kindly lent instruments to some members so they could join in the fun. Our
Treasurer couldn’t resist joining the band (and he even seemed to be enjoying himself).
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On Sunday the cloud was still down but at least the rain had stopped for a while, so the hardier
members of the company decided they would do Sgurr Alasdair which they duly bagged (with crampons
and ropes being required). Other members went for less challenging ventures into the great outdoors
with walks including the headland at the end of Glen Brittle, climbing more Yeamans and coastal walks
on other parts of the island.
Sunday night was a quieter affair, with a few of the blokes going off for a pint at the Old Inn at Carbost
early on. Later on the warder and her husband engaged a few of us in games, but soon realised that the
OMC were made of sterner stuff when they were trounced narrowly beaten at Bananagrams (although
yours truly let the side down a bit at Rummikub).
On the Monday there was still low cloud, so most folk decided to head home after the usual tidying up
of the hut (thanks all). There was a walk to the Camasunary bothy from the Elgol road, to see it before
it closes sometime in the near future.
So another great OMC meet, with great banter, music, and walks at all levels. A shame the weather
was not better, but I guess that’s the joy of living in Scotland and you just make the best of it. Defiantly
a venue worth going back to time after time…
Chris Gould
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First French Alps Trip July 2013 – by Cody Johnson
Who am I?
Hi, I'm Cody Johnson and my gran is Jean Moffat. I am 9 years old. I joined the OMC in March 2013 as
a junior associate member. This is my first article for the newsletter.
Flights and the French Tooth Fairy
My mum dropped us off at the airport and we got checked in in less than 15 minutes. Poor Andy W (who
was on the same flight and was sharing a car with us in France) had been there for an hour and a half,
and his queue had hardly moved!!! He shifted to our queue and was checked in in no time.
The night before we left, my tooth wasn't wobbly. It was sore. Then on the aeroplane, it was very
wobbly and I took soooo long to eat my bacon baguette because I didn't want to swallow it. We
collected our hire car and drove for about an hour and then my tooth fell out. When we got to Ailefroide
I put the tooth in a plastic bag in the car to take home. The next morning when I woke up, my gran
went off to brush her teeth and I found a 2 Euro coin in the tent and thought to myself it was my gran's.
So I put it on her side. When she came back I said, “I found 2 Euros and put it on your side, cos it's
yours.” Gran said, “I haven't had any money in here. My purse is in the car.” We couldn't understand it.
Then finally it dawned on me that it might be the Tooth Fairy. Gran said she thought it must be, and
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surely they would have tooth fairies in France. I felt really pleased the French Tooth Fairy had realised
my tooth had come out and had managed to get into the tent! :)
Climbing
I was in Ailefroide for eight full days and I climbed on three days.
The first day was single pitch and I did three climbs. Gran says I have to keep a climbing log, so here
goes.
Tuesday 16 July 2013 : Crag : Les Petites Dalles
1. Arrete! 4a (led by Nigel)
2. Le Poux Dingue 4c (top roped, originally led by Nigel? Or Simon? )
3. Tout Alu 3c (led by Nigel)
Saturday 20 July 2013 : A Multi-pitch day. Adios, Trepidentes!!, 5b+, 5c, 5b, 3a, 5c, 5a, 2a.
I went with Ian and Jim. I was in the middle all the time. Ian and Jim took turns at leading. Some bits
were easy, some bits were harder. It was fun and sometimes when I looked down, or to the sides, or
up, I saw Mhairi and Gran who were scrambling about taking pictures of us. The views were lovely – we
could see the glacier rivers and the camp site, which was huge, way below. I needed a very tight rope
on the second last pitch!! Ian had to help two climbers who'd got stuck on that pitch.
Tuesday 23 July 2013 : Crag : Ecole Buissonniere (beehive crag)
I'm not sure if I've got this quite right...
1. A mixture of Filou and Ouistit 4b and 3b (led by Lucy)
2. Then I led with a safety rope and Ian soloed beside me, then I led without the safety rope clipping
quick draws that were already in place, and Ian watched out for me again.
Thanks for climbing with me, Ian, Jim, Nigel, Lucy and Gran, and thanks to Mhairi for taking pictures and
giving me a CD to bring home.
Friends with Campervans and flats
On our second day there, after our climbs, we visited Moira, Colin and Jim in their apartment on the way
back. Moira invited us to stay for dinner – sausage casserole. It was lovely sitting out on their balcony
eating.
The next day we had a lazy day. We watched Ian and Nigel, and Jim and Colin B, climb Little Palavar.
We could watch them from the camp site. We also drove to Pelvoux. It started to rain about tea time,
so Mhairi invited us into her campervan to make our tea. We were in their campervan quite often.
Next day, on Thursday 17th, Moira and Colin, my gran and I walked up to the Pelvoux hut at 2704m and
when we got there we had delicious big bowls of hot chocolate.
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When we where having our lunch outside the Pelvoux Hut we saw out first marmots. Then when we
were walking down it started to rain. It poured. We got soaked. At the camp site, Lyn invited us into
her campervan to get dried off, cleaned up, changed, and I got my hair dried. Davy got kicked out into
Mhairi and Ian's campervan! Afterwards everyone went to Ailefroide for a meal to celebrate Moira's
birthday. My steak was the best ever.
We also watched the Tour de France in Lucy and Nigel's campervan.
We were lucky to have friends with top-of-the-range accommodation who rescued us from our tent when
it was raining or cold. Thanks. (Gran was getting more and more big-tent-envy and van-envy each time
it rained!)
Glacier Blanc Hut and Cute Marmots
Ian, Mhairi, Andy, Nigel, Gran and I went to the Glacier Blanc Hut to stay overnight. The warden was
funny. Gran said, “How much for l'enfant”. He said, “How old is l'enfant?” Gran said, “Nine.” He said,
“Eight”. Gran said, “Eight”. He said to me, “How old are you?” I said, “Nine” (Daah!!!). He said,
“Eight”. I said “Eight!” Phew! He said, “Free – for children of eight or less”. Later that day he saw me
again, and said, “It's not nice to tell lies.” We both laughed.
He asked if we had BMC cards. There was a lot of chat about the MCofS, then Gran showed him my
OMC card and he asked her if she was Cody Johnson. She told him I was Cody and was a member of the
Ochils Mountaineering Club in Scotland, and Mhairi and Ian showed him their BMC insurance cards. He
must have thought we were daft! He said, “Come back later, and I'll decide if you can get the discount”.
He did give us it, maybe cos we made him laugh, so we all saved a bunch of money. He gave us a room
all together, with just us in it. I liked the Alpine bunks. I tried out nearly all of them and had fun rolling
about on the mattresses.
Ian, Nigel and Andy had an alpine start and we saw them off about 4am. Mhairi, Gran and I went to see
the Glacier Blanc and go marmot hunting. We saw lots of them and Mhairi got great pictures of two of
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them play fighting. One of them was closer than a foot from me, under a boulder. We bought a chamois
and a marmot furry toy in the village to bring home to my wee cousins Freya and Zoe.
Bonfire, dinner, toasted marshmallows and home
On the last night before we left we had a bonfire. Everyone cooked something to share for dinner and
we toasted marshmallows in the flames, and Andy ate a whole black one. It started raining so we
wanted to move closer to the fire, but it was too hot so that made us move further away again. Some
lucky people had umbrellas!!!
We spent our last night with Gran's friend from school in Geneva. The apartment was really posh. We
had dinner, and the desert was strawberries, cream and meringues and it was the best desert ever in my
life!!!!!!!!!! :):):):)
I thought my first holiday to the Alps was fantastic.
Cody Johnson
PS Thanks to Gran for helping with typing and proof reading.
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In An Emergency – ‘Press’ Red Button To Stop!
Come to think of it, I’d only forgotten to pack a rack: and, as the saying goes, ‘who needs friends when
you’ve got nuts like us?’ Well, to be fair, it was me that was crackers, not Jere, and in the absence of
runners ‘n extenders there was no way, Towering Inferno was possible but what the hell, I had a devilish
plan forming.
I wanted to redeem myself and outside the blinkers of the infernal embarrassment searing up my neck, I
noticed an enticing line of sparkling light marking a Moderate. I convinced myself that I only had to
follow the beautifully clean, water-worn, crystalline Quartz & Feldspar whilst avoiding the algae
encrusted mica. So what, if the dancing diamonds of light were trickles of sun-warmed water?
With such careless preparation and deep in the Loch A’an Basin on one of the most perfect days of the
year, Jere remained benevolently patient; even offering reassurance that there were a myriad of walks
we could choose from. But as I started to jibber on about an alternative route, perhaps his muted
conversation gave lie to his dawning realisation that I was serious about climbing the irrigated
route…protectionless.
More likely, Jere was searching for rational answers to the unspoken question tripping through his
logical brain, ‘Will I get home tonight?’
I tried to downplay the niceties of climbing without runners although I didn’t fall into the horrible trap of
describing my proposal as just ‘nipping-up Escalator’. Nobody just ‘nips up’ anything: it’s a thoroughly
clichéd verb all too often used by writers turgidly attempting to express their laissez-faire or even
nonchalant approach to a quick climb on some well-trodden local crag. A writer who describes their
climbing as just ‘nipping-up’ intends to leave the reader in awe of the writer’s supposed casual approach
to what most readers would more likely find as terrifyingly arduous. Just try nipping up The Rasp, The
Bat or The Dangler and you’ll need more than a nip to quell the The Bells of your jangling nerves!
Anyhow, I digress: we weren’t about to nip up this miniature flume with three slings ‘n krabs but I had to
give the impression that it was at least a good idea and wouldn’t be too taxing.
Two pitches up and the opportunities for using the slings were exactly as I imagined…with one nerve
pressing problem. There were certainly pegs adorning cracks from winter ascents but they were colourmatched pegs.
Why the problem?
Well, if you’re not ahead of me already, just consider the pinky, red ‘n brown Granite. Fine if it’s rocks ‘n
sunsets were talking about but in this case the matching colours were with the rusty hues of the flaky
pegs.
Rust hardly confers confidence in the strength of any ferrous object but needs must for me and, by the
time it was Jere’s turn to unsling the pegs I would be out of earshot above.
My problem was not the slab climbing per se: because placing a PA on the sluiced pink Granite was fine;
my feet placements were sound. It was the heinous steps through intricate overlaps where every shade
of pungent Chlorphyta adorned the shadows. No room for error nor chance of respite: no ‘red button’ to
push on this escalator. Stopping was not an option; just calm, deep breaths.
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After four pitches of contorted balancy moves through the seams of hydraulic ooze, my back was
steeped in an equally unpleasant sticky smear of adrenalin induced sweat and my trousers were damp
around the waist from the continual wiping of my algoid hands. Hell’s Lum’s silent solitude was only
disturbed by my angst grunts which were soon quelled by a reassuring thread amongst a familiar clutter
of loose blocks close to our sacs.
The source of the sparkling leakage was close at hand too: a remnant patch of Winter’s mantle slowly
melting its way down the very line of our ascent. However, deft belaying, so as not to yank Jere off
balance, soon brought him quietly to our eerie and after a dousing of sugared-black tea, Jere was oddly
at peace with my piss-poor preparation.
His disbelief at following my stupidity, silenced him….now, there’s a ploy!
(Escalator, Hell’s Lum Crag, Moderate, 150 m, usually wet and sometimes brilliant: Climber – Jere Scott,
Numbskull – Andy Cloquet)
Andy Cloquet
Cottage Open Day and BBQ
It must almost have been a year ago that Colin and I put our name down on a seemingly simple list of
events next to the words August BBQ. Keen to put something back into the club we thought we'd help
to organise an event and being keen chefs decided that a cottage BBQ was the perfect event to start
with.... little did we know what a big event it was going to be!
The club wanted an opportunity to thank all the helpers and people who'd donated time and money
towards the cottage extension – and also to provide the locals of Crianlarich with an opportunity to see
around the cottage, that many of them have watched grow over the years. Combing an Open Day with a
club BBQ was the perfect solution. So team SC & CS (Sara + Colin & Christina + Shaw) got their heads
together and the planning began.....
Fast forward to Saturday 17th August and by 9am the cottage was full of activity. As a relative newcomer
to the club (I'm led to believe that you need to be a member at least several years before you're a
regular!) I think that one of the great things about the OMC is that everyone is so great at pulling
together and helping making things a great success. Before long the kitchen had been transformed into
a hall with stalls of books, gifts and a tombola. A marquee outside had been filled with stalls of tea,
coffee and home baking, and a second marquee had been set up ready for the games and the BBQ. All
too quickly 12 o'clock came and we set about wrapping up the cottage extension in a giant pink ribbon
ready for the grand opening . (well it was just the patio doors but hopefully the effect was the same!)
Sadly throughout all this preparation the rain kept reappearing and we kept looking hopefully towards
the horizon hoping some clear skies would head our way.
We all gathered around, huddling under our gortex jackets, umbrellas and what tent space we could find
and then as if by magic the sun came out just as we kicked off proceedings. With the sun shining down
the ribbon was cut and the cottage extension officially opened by our honorary member Bill Bannerman.
Official speeches were provided by our faithful President Davey Sadler, and long time member Murray
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Airth. They told us tales of the club of old, they narrated time of people falling down the stairs, they
passed on memories of various cottage extensions & then we all went inside to drink champagne and
toast the new extension. We'd no sooner got back inside when the heavens opened and it began to pour
with rain again!
The afternoon was all about enjoying ourselves and sharing the cottage with the visitors. The tour
guides were kept very busy showing friends, family, visitors and locals of Crianlarich around the cottage,
and the tea stall did a roaring trade, the Tombola was so successful that it had all but ran out of prizes by
4pm, and I'm sure we came home with more books than we provided donations for the other stalls... I'll
be having a word with that Jim Mckenna about that another time! It was really lovely to speak to so
many people about the club, particularly the Crianlarich locals who popped by curious as to what we got
up to. I heard mention of potential cottage bookings, and potential new club members, and I learned a
lot about the history of the club as well (which as a relative newbie was lovely too!). The local policeman
turned up, the mountain rescue team turned up, other climbing clubs turned up.. all in all it was a very
auspicious crowd.
Amongst all this sensible activity Colin and I were to be seen persuading folk to dash out between the
rain showers and try out the treasure hunt which had been set around Crianlarich. The aim was to seek
out the answers to 10 clues, and in 5 of the locations there were jigsaw pieces hidden which when
assembled would make up the cottage. Bonus points could be won by participating in the fun games of
Pitch & Splash, Fuzzy darts and Splat the Rat. The weather steadily improved throughout the afternoon
and eventually there were over 20 people to be seen dashing around Crianlarich. Tisos had donated
some brilliant prizes, and it all got very competitive... particularly between certain siblings! When it
came to counting up the points there were several close categories but there could only be 1 overall
winner... and the results were
1st Angela and Paul (not quite first out but definitely first back & exceptionally flukey at the bonus mark
games)
2nd Simon, Simon, Fiona and June (who only missed out by a splatted rat)
3rd Iain & Mhairi (who weren't even going to compete at one stage!)
and the bonus prizes went to:
Duncan & Jenni for the lowest scores and to Jean, Cody & Jim for the longest circuit (though a special
mention goes to Alastair who only missed out on the longest circuit by about 5 minutes and a
photograph!!!)
With all this silliness going on and towards the end of the afternoon as the weather continued to squall
there was a slightly hairy moment when one of the marquees tried to fly away and failed.. the result was
a lot of people holding up a fast collapsing tent. Thankfully the club is full of experts with tents in stormy
weather and the situation was quickly resolved by the speedy removal of the tent and everything being
packed away.
With the official part of the day done and the remaining stalls all tidied away as magically as they had
been put up, the final celebrations could begin. The BBQ for club members and their friends and families
was kindly sponsored by the splendid Skinners of Kippen. They had provided more than ample supplies
of burgers, and sausages; and we supplemented those with salad, & vegetarian options for those not so
keen on meat alone. In true Brittish Summer tradition the weather turned bad the second we lit the
BBQs but, as with the rest of the day, when the important business started the weather improved and
the boys were able to do their cooking in the dry.
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The crowds dispersed as folk who weren't staying in the cottage headed off to find their board and
lodgings, but the die-hards remained... sitting up talking and socialising and ensuring that the day will go
down in OMC history as another tale to tell at the next extension official opening.
Footnote: Thankyou to Skinners of Kippen (who can now be found in Dobbies & The Woodhouse too!)
and to Tisos of Stirling who generously sponsored the events... and thankyou very much to everyone who
contributed gifts, books, baking, prizes for the tombola, and who helped out in all sorts of ways. And a
special thankyou to all those who participated in the day – it was great fun and a huge success. Well
done to you all.
Sara Edwards
A breeze round Assynt
Thousands of words have already been written about that first moment the sun hits the tent and stirs
the body into wakefulness. Suffice it to say that with the aftertaste of garlic mushrooms, chilli crab
linguini washed down with a pint of Red Kite in my mouth, from the previous night's fine repast in the
Lochinver pie shop, my first thoughts were rather more practical than poetic. Outside the tent, all was
well with the world: neighbours kids splashing around in the inlet that our tent was perched above,
trying to keep as quiet as is decent for 7 a.m.; sun splitting the azure heavens; and a warm breeze
keeping the midge factor to low. Following a recovery day consisting of shopping for new boots in
Ullapool and playing on the beach at the campsite at Achmelvich, we were just about ready to stretch
our legs again and go for a spin on the bikes round the hills, lochs and coast of Assynt. I was (not so)
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secretly looking forward to this after two days of giving blood to the insect population of Fisherfield
forest on a 2 day trek into Carnmore to look at the crags and plod up a couple of Corbetts on the hottest
weekend of the summer. It had definitely been a case of cleggs by day and midges all the rest of the
time, waiting for the sun to go down and cool the atmosphere sufficiently to pile into the wee tent and
sweat a bit more – ah well, character-forming (grumpy in my case). Breakfast time entertainment took
the form of neighbour, a.k.a. “mother duck”, showing aforementioned kidlings how to take a morning
dip amid squeals of laughter (or frostbite, not sure which), this being the far more respectable time of
7.25.
We set off shortly after 8 and hit the first hill back out from the bay and along the pretty wooded lane to
join up with the Stoer road. Turning left, we headed over the first couple of hills to Clachtoll. It was a
perfect morning, warm, fresh, the lochans were sparkling and festooned with lillies in various states of
flowering, iris decorating the fringes, and views in every direction. Every twist and rise in the road threw
up something new at which to marvel. By Clachtoll, we congratulated ourselves on making the decision
to squeeze in on the campsite at Achmelvich as this campsite was not as attractive, being more of an
open field on the machair at the back of the beach. The villages of Stoer and Clashnessie sailed by in a
buoyant mood of joyous chatter. Crofts of all shapes and sizes in various states of abandonment,
dereliction, occupation and renovation reminded us of the tenuous nature of life in these parts;
beguiling on a summer day like this, hiding the harsher reality of the rest of the year. We stopped for a
bird of prey on a distant crag – peregrine or hen harrier perhaps? Further along the road, a more
familiar “pee-ou, pee-ou” heralded the flapping of a juvenile, hungry buzzard overhead, begging for a
parental feed, presumably the same bird as earlier. The road hugs the coast one minute, then climbs
over some wild moorland, before dropping back to the sea and another beautiful cove with views of
islands and the coast to the north, and then repeats several more times. This surely has to be the most
stunning road in Britain! We reached Drumbeg and realised that an early cafe stop would have to be
shelved as we only had £20 for the day. Someone had forgotten that the phone he didn't think he
needed for the ride also contained precious cafe funds. After the collection of cottages called Nedd, the
road decided to get serious with some tough steep climbs. However, only in the North-West of Scotland
would a lorry wait in a passing space on a hairpin for a couple of middle-age pedallers to struggle past,
then cheer us on with a friendly wave. The road carries on climbing round the northern shoulders of
Quinag, past high lochans with views up the coast to Handa island, before joining up with the main road
a couple of miles outside Kylesku. We turned right and headed for Inchnadamph over the much steadier
climb between Quinag and its Corbett neighbour Glas Bheinn. I decided to cut loose and go car chasing
on the descent from our high point of the day back to nearly sea-level at Loch Assynt, waiting for my
partner near the busy castle ruins.
The Inchnadamph Hotel (plan A) was closed when we arrived for an early lunch, so there was no choice
but to push on to Ledmore and the famous Elphin Tea rooms – famous in the sense that neither of us
had ever passed when it had been open. We took it in turns into the headwind hoping that our luck
would be in and we would be greeted by tea and other edible materials in a room or other similar type
of enclosed habitation that would in fact be open or at least not closed (as you might be able to guess,
this was now becoming somewhat significant in our fatigued brains). In fact, not only were the Tea
rooms open, but despite only offering snacks, the choice of jacket potatoes, sandwiches or soup was
more than adequate and provided us with a decent amount of change from our £20 note. Lunchtime
entertainment consisted of a Dutch mother and daughter industriously knitting some cashmere finery
accompanied by a knowledgeable discussion with the cafe owner on the merits of different fleeces for
spinning, weaving and knitting; where to go to learn each of these skills and who were the best
exponents in the north of Scotland and outer Isles – highly educational. It is even worth a visit to see one
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of the longest fly fishing rods I have ever seen stretching the length of one of the walls, plus lots of other
interesting memorabilia.
As a small boy chased the resident chickens away from the door, we trundled off southwards and up the
climb past the Knockan crags. On to familiar territory as we turned onto the Stac Pollaidh road, we
cruised over the undulations with the wind now at our back. The only disadvantage of this was that the
cleggs could now keep pace with us and find small sheltered bits of clothing in which to commence
drilling. Kirk to Scottie, “we need more power”! As we passed the famous hill at warp speed, and
marvelled at the changing aspects of the Coigachs, little did we know this was going to be the scene of a
romantic union of club members in a few days time – well done Stu and Jeannie. At last we turned back
towards Lochinver and the road provided us with yet more delights: stiff climbs to ever changing
viewpoints of Stac Pollaidh, Cul Mor and Suilven; swooping descents back to oases of woodland and
fields; more crags and lochans than you could shake a shepherd's staff at. At times it was impossible to
predict which way the road was going to take next as it twisted through the rough country. The final bit
of glen down to the sea had me dreaming of Spain – something to do with the warm dusty air in my
nostrils, the shady trees hiding hot rock in all directions, the long reed grass in the flat valley bottom
making waves in the breeze, and the blue, blue sea at the end of the road. You had to keep pinching
yourself, or was Assynt putting a spell on us?
We had promised ourselves a stop at the bookshop and cafe at Inverkirkaig, which we eventually
reached after a couple more hills. The final one up the drive to the cafe was surrendered to, definitely
not due to its steepness (honest!), but because of the dodgy looking cattle grid half-way up. We
negotiated a fizzy drink, a cake and an ice cream with our remaining funds and the promise of washingup if that wasn't enough, and had a good browse round what must be one of the most comprehensive
sources of Scottish literature, poetry and local cultural publications in the north – some fascinating stuff.
This was tea-time entertainment enough for us by this stage. Anything more exciting would have blown
our already spaced-out minds. The remaining miles back to Lochinver and on to Achmelvich were
uneventful, you know, the usual, a few more hills, more beautiful views, etc, but I have to admit to being
glad to get back to our tent by the sea. Hot food and drink aided recovery and our neighbour once again
kept us entertained as she wrestled with a superb example of an antique wooden kit kayak. She pored
over the original Dutch instructions and worked out where everything fitted inside the rubberised
canvas exterior, but baulked at the final snapping of everything into place in case until she had received
final confirmation from her dad, which I thought was fair enough given the age of the components. As
we let our eyes quietly glaze over in the glory of another stunning sunset, we reflected on a magical day.
I know I'm a bit biased, but if anyone can tell me of a better bike ride anywhere in the world, let me
know and I'll give it a go, but I can't guarantee I'll agree with it.
Adrian Gaughan
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X- Country skiing in Geilo, Norway
(swish swish swish- wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)
Simon and I went cross- country skiing to Geilo in April. We both learned to ski as
adults and luckily are as terrible as each other. After trying every type of skiing we have come to
the realisation that cross-country skiing is the perfect way forward for us (up, down, backwards,
and falling over).
We went to Norway to have a fun time swishing along the prepared loipe but also to try
out our ski touring skis and to investigate Norwegian hut-to-hut touring for future trips. We
chose Geilo since it has miles of prepared trails and it is on the train line which leads to the more
authentic frozen Arctic wasteland at Finse. Finse is where the Scott Expedition trained before
they went down to the Antarctic and their doom.
Geilo was described to us as a ‘lycra resort’ by Eric Wooller (some of you may know
Eric- he has been a x-country instructor and racer for ever). By this, Eric meant that all you need
for a fine day out is a stretchy ski outfit and your wallet. Coffee, lunches, cakes, hot chocolate
and Jägertee are all but a few swishes away around one well signposted trail or another.
We arrived the day after Easter and sadly many of the cake and coffee emporiums were
closed. In Norway end of Easter=ski season over. Okay, perhaps this is a slight exaggeration.
We had a brilliant week of well-prepared trails, blue sky and fabulous sunshine. Geilo may be
more of tiny town than a true ‘lycra resort’ but that adds to the attraction, and luckily the
efficient Norwegians provide a wee trail map to show which cafes/huts are open in the off
season.
Geilo lies in the valley and the extensive network of tracks is accessed by either slogging
uphill, using the downhill ski lifts or driving/ getting a cab a few km out of town. Of course
being determined but slightly dim, we followed option one. By the end of the trip we realised
that another option would have given us scope for traveling further out each day. Ho hum, you
live and learn.
On our first skiing day, we limbered up by touring the valley floor along a
winding undulating 10k loop around Usterdalsfjorden. We didn’t stop to ice-fish, but we did
pose for photos with the giant lake troll who looked quite friendly. We also met some super
keen husky sled teams that were out training in the sunshine.
Our metal edged touring skis were too wide for the cut tracks and so we skied along the
ridged groomed track. This was fine, although much harder work than being in the loipe. After
a brief foray uphill towards an open café we decided to leave that for another day and zoomed
downhill and around the 5km Geilo floodlit trail on the other side of town.
On day two we hired skinny track skis to make the most of the cut trails. The warm-up
was a bracing 3km climb out of the valley; herring-bone style almost all the way up. Fabulous
for the thighs, and slogging up steep hills through blazing white snow and pine woods did make
me feel glad to be alive. The view from the top out across the Hardangerviddanasjonal park was
stunning. The snowy mountain plateau dotted with trees rolled out all the way to the horizon
where it met clear blue sky. The route took us out across the downhill slope and towards the
Tindeflata. Miles of beautifully groomed undulating route lay ahead and our skinny skis fairly
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hummed along the trail and the 5.5km out to the nearest café. Sadly after Easter equals closed. A
quick turnaround and glide took us back east and to the Fjellstugu hut for hot chocolate and
lunch. We continued east in the afternoon through the hamlet of Kukut and beyond.
Going skiing after Easter did have real benefits. The trails were still beautifully groomed
each day and there were not many other people around. A few lone skiers who were pulled
along by dogs-in-boots and some lycra clad Norwegians skied effortlessly past us as we shuffled
along. Day two ended with an exhilarating whizz back into the valley with one ski in the loipe
and the other in half snowplough around the steep bends, all the way down from Brusletestolen.
Another day we came up out of Geilo on the same track (50 minutes herring-boning uphill), and
toured out to Ruperanden where we sat in the sun at tables outside the hut (after Easter = closed).
That day we lunched with a very jolly group of retired Norwegians who all looked incredibly fit
and happy - an ‘old Norwegian gits club’ on skis.
After a few days of swishing around the cut tracks on skinnies, I did think that I had
found my true love in terms of the type of skiing that I want to do. But then, we took the train up
to Finse where trails are not manicured but are marked only by willow saplings leading off into
the distance. True Norwegian ski touring.
Finse is breath taking. It sits at the heart of the Hardangeridden mountain plateau at
1222m above sea level at the highest point of the Oslo - Bergen railway line. From the station
platform you can look out across the snow covered Lake Finsevatnet to the mighty
Hardangerjøkulen glacier. Finse itself is tiny. It has the station, a hotel (The 1222), a
microbrewery, the luxury DNT Finsehutte and a small museum. The only way to get there is by
train (or on skis). In winter people go to Finse to ski. It has a small downhill ski area and is a
popular place for ski sailing. The frozen lake was dotted with skiers speeding along powered by
their big red kites. However, people really go to Finse to tour. From Finse you can embark on
your own hut-to-hut skiing adventure in any direction and for any length of time.
Skiing from Finse was the most incredible skiing I have ever done. The snow was
beautiful and it was like gliding along on soft pillows. We toured out across the lake and up to
the glacier with the sun sparking off the snow and the wind freezing our faces. It was much
colder up on the plateau compared to Geilo, and we ate lunch huddled out of the wind behind
some huge boulders. Our day’s skiing was only a simple out and back route, but it gave a taster
of how good Norwegian ski touring can be, especially when the sun shines all day long.
The station waiting room on that Sunday was buzzing with Norwegians who had been
touring on the plateau. Everyone piled onto the Oslo bound train when it arrived and we
recognised a small band of skiers – the Snow’ld Gits#2? We had first seen them about 25 km
from Finse outside a hut that morning and they had all waved madly at the train as we went past.
Still on a high from their fabulous skiing day out they kept us entertained with songs and
sweeties all the way back down to Geilo.
Great holiday, amazing place – we will be back!
Fancy Geilo or Finse? Useful info
We flew Edinburgh – Oslo with Norwegian Air, then took the train Oslo- Geilo. Geilo is
on the main Oslo- Bergen rail line with Finse at its higher point- 1222m above sea level.
Travel time- Late night 3hr flight out, night in Oslo and train the next morning, arriving
Geilo mid-afternoon. Return journey in one day. We went Tues to Tues and got five days skiing
for a one week holiday. The trains are great- roomy, comfortable and efficient.
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Our accommodation was half-board at the hotel Ustaleden which was good value with
friendly staff and great views. Food was eat-all-you-like buffet style with lots of choice. The
hotel is about 1Km from town and they pick you up and drop you off at the station. The ski trails
start about 300m from the Hotel.
Norwegian Air - http://www.norwegian.com/
Rail travel - http://www.visitnorway.com/Getting-here-and-around/Train-in-Norway/
Ustaleden hotel http://www.ustedalen.no/Finsehutte - http://finsehytta.turistforeningen.no/
Finse1222 hotel - http://www.finse1222.no/
Skiing Geilo, including trail map - http://www.geilo.no/en/winter/cross-country1/
DNT cabins and hut to hut information - http://english.turistforeningen.no/
Fiona Stewart
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‘Cliffhanger’: the Bocchette way.
Two weeks to go and the phone rings. It was Ewan, a friend I’d met on a previous trip to the Chamonix
valley. We’d been planning it since September, The Bocchette Way, one of the great hut-to-hut routes
of the Dolomites. The Bochette is an aerial traverse cut high into the cliffs of the Brenta and the
highlight, if what went before could be topped, would be an ascent of Cima Tosa (the highest peak in
the massif at 3173m).
Unfortunately Ewan was cancelling due to health problems. The kit had been bought. Hotels, huts,
flights and car hire had been booked, and now we needed someone to step in and take Ewan’s place,
fast. That someone was to be Graeme Wallace, who I can’t thank enough for jumping in at short notice
without knowing what he was letting himself in for.
Now I’m sure satnavs work well in northern Italy, unless of course you forget to set them up for taking in
toll roads. I learnt this from bitter experience! Squeezing ourselves into a Fiat Panda, Ian was on the
Satnav, Graeme on the map and I was, well, confused and in the driving seat. We eventually agreed it
was all a waste of time trying to get on the A4 motorway and instead went for the scenic option up the
side of Lake Como and over two mountain passes. Scenic it might have been but this turned a 4-hour
journey into an 8-hour journey – and it was an interesting one to say the least. At one point I remember
getting overtaken on a hairpin bend by a 6-birth campervan. I’m sure he went for the maneuver on the
hairpin because he couldn’t keep up with me on the straights. We finally rolled into Madonna di
Campiglio at 6pm, desperate to be anywhere other than in a Fiat panda.
Day 1:
It was Monday morning and day one. We parked at the Rifugio Vallesinella (at 1513m) in glorious
sunshine. The walk through the woods soon gave way to an open valley, with soaring peaks filling the
skyline ahead. On reaching the Rifugio Brentei, from the little church you see the Vedr del Crozzon, a
giant couloir that touches the highest point in the Brenta, Cima Tosa. Our hope was, by Thursday, we
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would be looking back down this same couloir. Now it was time to gear up and start the Sentiero
SOSAT, an easy warm-up via ferrata, and a prelude to the Bocchette Alte and the Bocchette Centrali,
that snakes its way round a buttress of rock. One steep ladder down climb, an exposed ledge and the
worst was over. Crossing a giant boulder field, we looked down on the Rifugio Tuckett. This would be
our overnight stop.
Day 2:
Tuesday began with a steady plod in crampons up the Vedr di Brenta inf. This is the remains of a glacier,
now retreated to almost nothing. We soon reached the Bocch del Tuckett, and got our first views over
the other side of the Brenta. Suddenly a realization that there’s no rolling hillsides on the eastern flank
of the mountain, no easy paths, just steep limestone dropping away onto a valley floor.
We made light work of the ferrata to start. Just easy scrambling, with the cables and staples getting in
the way, but this soon changed. We were now confronted with narrow ledges, and at one point rockfall
had taken out a section of cable, with loose scree and about 100ft of air below. The Italian solution to
this problem was a temporary repair using what looked like 20 meters of shoe lace. Most seemed to clip
onto this, but I just couldn’t see the point. The ferrating eased again until we reached the foot of a long
exposed ladder. Once over this we seemed to descend for an age, down loose scree with no protection
at all before finally reaching solid limestone walls where the fixings returned. A narrow downward
sloping ledge now lay ahead. This was followed by number of ladders leading into a steep walled little
col.
At this point we had a choice, a dilemma we’d been debating in the refuge the night before. Do we take
the easy route down to the Refugio Alimonta, or do we descend the Sentierio Oliva Detassis? This was
the highlight via ferrata for me –and the question had always been should we go up or down it? We
finally agreed, “down it is”. This was steep. Ladder after ladder disappearing out of sight.Rungs
vanishing into space, the whole structure seemed to wrap around and under overhangs of rock. Then an
exposed step led across onto another ladder, and another. Soon we were at the bottom looking up,
amazed at the steepness of the buttress we had down climbed. With arms aching and feeling the fatigue
it was just a short walk across a snowfield to the Rifugio Alimonta where a well-deserved beer, meal and
bed for the night awaited.
Day 3:
Wednesday was billed as Cliffhanger day. Yet another film location in the Dolomites that masqueraded
as Colorado. This was the Bocchette Centrali, a film director’s dream. Put Sylvester Stallone in a string
vest anywhere on this route and you can’t go wrong. Ledges wind their way round rock architecture.
Limestone pillars shoot up into the air like New York skyscrapers. You turn a corner and it’s like
monument valley, turn another and it’s the Grand Canyon. You really did feel like you were in a movie.
Wednesday was our easiest day, and arguably the best so far.I remember sitting at the Refugio Pedrotti
feeling happy, content, an excellent day.
Day 4:
Thursday morning we woke to a cloud inversion. Ian and Graeme were up at the crack of dawn, eager to
photograph the sunrise. Today we were ditching the ferrata gear. The objective was Cima Tosa, and the
small amount of climbing equipment we had with us was to come into play. We’d changed things
around a bit. By staying in the Pedrotti for two nights, we could leave unnecessary gear behind and
lighten the load for the climb. It meant phoning the Rifugio Agostini to cancel, but this wasn’t a problem.
All the hut wardens seemed to be easy going and there was a land line between the huts.
The walk into Cima Tosa was not the most memorable or scenic part of the trip in contrast to the days
previously, a landscape of rubble and scree. After an hour and a half we reached the foot of the climb at
the back of an high corrie. In true Italian style, there was CimaTosa painted on the rock and a big red
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arrow pointing the way. The first pitch, known as the fireplace, climbs a chimney to about half height,
and then you step out onto a short wall with fixed gear before reaching a belay stance with slings in
place (25m of about v diff). We kept the rope on for the top part of the climb but, looking back, it wasn’t
really needed (maybe 20m of moderate at most). The rest of the ascent, about 200m of easy scrambling
over limestone terraces, led you to edge of the summit plateau. Cairns guide you to the 3173m mark.
So we finally stood on the top of Cima Tosa and it was spectacular! The whole of the Brenta in view and
cloud from the earlier inversion bubbling up from below. In the distance we could see the snowcapped
peaks of Austria and Switzerland -closer still, the rugged northern Dolomites. Most of the glaciated cap
we’d heard about on Cima Tosa had now gone, just the far end of the mountain still hanging on to its icy
cloak. We were on the southern edge of the alps, looking in, and it was magical - and yes, I got to look
back down the Vedr del Crozzon and see the little church!
We sat on the summit for a while longer aware that, after a week of unbroken sunshine, the weather
was finally turning. Cloud was rolling in from the east and knowing there was still the matter of an
abseil, it was time to go home.
So that was our adventure over. Maybe it didn’t have all the excitement of a Sly Stallone action film but
the Bocchette way and Cima Tosa proved pretty close – and we would recommend it to any experienced
climber. Ewan, we’re sorry you missed it mate – but there’s always the sequel to look forward to!!
Written by Matthew Tams , 21/09/13
www.ochils.com
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Cub Training News
A mountain bike course was organised in July of this year at Glentress - attended by 6 folks.
Reports were of good instruction having been offered, and an enjoyable day out. One club
member managed to brain himself while apparently trying to keep up with the girls!
A first aid course is planned for January, confirmation and details to follow as soon as possible.
Winter is on the way and your training crew needs to know who is interested in basic Winter
Skills, advanced winter skills and navigation courses.
How these courses are run (home grown or otherwise) will depend on numbers. It would be nice
to have a winter skills course organised towards the start if winter, but not too early. I am
thinking mid January. Can I have a show of interest from folks please?
Ditto navigation and night navigation.
So please, make your interest known for:
- Basic winter skills (ice axe and crampons work, avalanche awareness)
- Advanced winter skills
- Navigation
- Night navigation
Jere has kindly offered to run a day nav course on the 12th or 13th Oct. Who would be up for
this, and would the sat or sun suit? It would most likely be local in the Ochils.
If this is not suitable for enough folks or too soon, then the next date is 30th Nov/1st Dec.
Prob a better chance of favourable weather in October though, and prob more pleasant temp wise
for a day nav course too.
Takers? Speak up!
As ever, your suggestions for other courses are always welcome.
Regards
Your Training subcommittee
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Ochils Mountaineering Club Meets 2014
Meet
Organiser
Opening date
10-11 Jan, Crianlarich, Club Cottage
Nigel Webber
14thNov 2013
14-15 Feb, Ben Nevis, CIC Hut
John Keith
12thDec 2013
28Feb/ 1 March,Creag Meagaidh,
Pottery Bunkhouse
Mhairi McCabe
9th Jan2014
14-15 March, Northern Cairngorms,
Nethy Station Bunkhouse
Jackie O’Neill
16th Jan 2014
19-21 April, Arran, Camping
Colin + Sara Edwards
N/A
2-4 May, Gairloch, Sands Camping
& Cabins
Davy Sadler
7th Mar 2014
13-14 June, Ardgour, Ariundle Bunkhouse
Nigel Webber
17thApril 2014
18/19 July, Snowdonia, Bethesda,
PMC Club Hut
Colin + Sara Edwards
22nd May 2014
6-8 Sept, Skye, Coruisk Hut,
Elke Braun
10th July 2014
20-21 Sept, Northumberland,
Wooler campsite
Simon Nash
N/A
31 Oct/ 1 Nov, Lake District, Brathay Hall,
Ambleside
Lucy McNee
4th Sept 2014
15-16 Nov, Lochaber,
Loch Ossian Youth Hostel
Jean Moffat
18th Sep 2014
12-13 Dec, Crianlarich, Club Cottage
Shaw Murray
16th Oct 2014
TBC, Ben Nevis, CIC Hut
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TBA
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Stuart and Jeanie`s Wedding Day on Stac Pollaidh Photo by Roddy

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