WALKING on up the track, going dusky soon but still a long way to go. Round by the old lodge and up the hill to meet darkness on the ridge. One torch, a lot of stumbling down slabs and falling into bogs. At last the comforting sight of the Dubh Loch which is probably worth a few lines of poetic meanderings. I suppose it’s beautiful. So what!
We pitched our tent on a higher bit of bog than the rest and cooked up a meal, then a cup of coffee, half of which is drunk and half spilt an the groundsheet in careful abandon.
Now a well earned rest and then morning. Adding egg to the coffee, we scrambled up to the foot of the crag. Climbing seems to be the thing to do when you’re in the mountains and although less satisfying than other activities (like what? – Ed.) we felt like a change and uncoiled the rope. Jimmy led up and I followed with a cold wind blowing excuses at us up the valley.
Jimmy was not to be put off and up he went. His mind must have been wandering because he had to belt a linger with his peg hammer to remind himself what he was doing. On a bit more and .html mistake. He let go of the rock and ended up ten foot from the stance. He was still a little determined as he climbed back up, banged out the peg and climbed back down again. Abseil back down again and that’s the end of the day’s climbing Oh well! We wander over and have a look at the slabs.
The meal is cooked in the dusk. The rice is emptied out of Jimmy’s rucksack into the pan and we pick out the bigger bits of glass and two fag ends. We eat the meal, both engrossed in our thoughts which often seem fairly similar. (What about rolling a joint? – Ed.) We reckoned we should have brought a couple of fur-burgers but hadn’t and we managed without as usual. (Modesty.– Ed.)
Next day, leaving a drop of evaporated milk on the floor, we head off up to the slabs to do "Pink Elephant". This time a bit more success. Just as cold but we must be getting used to it. It was really good climbing and we were having a great time despite losing the route around the terrace. We start up the upper section to a big overhang and some very nice traversing to avoid it, with the ropes making nice patterns on the rock. (F. Far Out.– Ed.)
And so it starts to snow. Just lightly but I was impressed. It was only September but Jimmy reassured me. It often snows in September so I was set at ease. The flakes got thicker and the rock got wetter and hands number. Jimmy climbs the pitch in the shower and it stops as I start. It’s good having GOD on your side. I go through. One more chimney and we’re up.
"Bloody great."
We have a fag and descend happily into the dismal gully with still plenty of energy left for the night.
Another meal and we flake stale bread onto the floor to make the chunder more solid. In the morning, well stuffed, we set off up the mountain. King Rat today. More great climbing. This time steeper with a nice dangle from an overhang with a rusty old leeper as a prize. We are slightly surprised to do 2½ good pitches in one rope-length and 300 ft. of easy gully at the top in 150 ft. which explains why climbs are longer in Scotland.
Yet .html night and we head out for Glen Clova. Seeing a Landrover after a couple of hours we are disappointed to find that it’s not the Queen or Princess Anne but instead a couple of game- keepers dressed in the height of fashion. We ask the time. 10 o’clock. This comes as a shock. We must have been getting up at about 7 every morning. They wish us on our way in a friendly manner. "You shouldn’t be on the hill at this time of year y’know. You’ll get a bullet round the ear!"
And so down to the valley and after a couple of pints we head back on the road.
Punch-line: Craig an Dubh Loch’s the place where they say "Take a walk on the Wild Side!"