Our Euro Bike Tour Day 1-3

Saturday 17 aug 2013 Home- Nice.

What a mammoth journey. It started with a three hour drive down to Newcastle Airport then the stressful business of getting the bike box checked in and then the relief of seeing it disappear down the chute of the outsize baggage counter, somebody else's turn to worry about it now. Another three hours later was the relief of being reunited with it in Nice and discovering it to be undamaged in transit.

Rebuilding the bike, Nice  Airport

It always seems rather bizarre opening a huge box in a busy airport concourse and starting the rebuild job of a big tandem all under the watchful gaze of machine gun totting army security men before brazenly abandoning aforementioned box and skiddaling of down the darkening streets of some European city, in this case Nice. I really hope we've never caused a security alert with our abandoned suspicious packages that we've randomly abandoned here and there around Europe.
Despite the hour being late we were very well looked after by Margaret and Bernard and were soon in their flat devouring copious quantities of cheese, pate, bread, and Margaret's excellent home made rabbit  pie before turning in for a well earned kip. Only problem being the outrageously hot temperatures (well for us folk from the frozen north it was bloody hot anyway)

Sunday 18th Aug 2013 Nice - Cuneo

let the journey commence

So this morning after a leisurely breakfast came more travel stress as this time we switched our travel mode to rail. Nice to Ventimiglia in SW Italy. We'd been assured by Margaret and Bernard "don't worry all the trains will be quiet on a Sunday afternoon you'll get yourselves and the tandem on no problem, aye right, I have never in my life seen such a busy train station and subsequent train. Ok there weren't people riding on the train roof like in more exotic countries but every possible space was taken up with hot sweaty humanity all eyeing our large tandem with distaste as we completely ignored their disapproving glowers. What was worse though was we had been cast into the wilderness, so to speak and were well and truly on our own.
Now, we new we were going to have to blag our way onto the next train as we knew that tandems were not particularly  welcome on Italian trains. I was also fully aware that my knowledge of the Italian language consisted pretty much of two words, bellisimo and pizza. I knew this would severely impact on any meaningful blagging so restricted myself to a less subtle approach and kinda barged my way slowly but forcefully onto this equally packed train and concealed the tandem from any nosy officialdom by surrounding it with hot, tetchy Italian fellow travellers.
  Remarkably, and with little trouble all things considered and against all the odds we have now reached Cuneo, the train ride having offered us loads of mountain views just interrupted now and again by tunnels. Of course being now in Italy we felt compelled to eat pizza, anti pasta and all that Italian good stuff before heading back to the hotel room for a well needed rest.

Monday 19 Aug 2013 Cuneo - Asti

Cuneo

65 miles

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/369017121

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/369017073

Had a fairly lazy start to the day fannying around on FB and a leisurely breakfast. One of the reasons we delayed was we really weren't sure where we were making for that day. I sort of had 50 -60 mile in my head  but it really depended on the weather ie how hot it was and what the terrain was like. I thought it looked fairly flat but it remained to be seen.

Once on the road though it was pretty level, at least for the first 25 mile and we covered that quickly, in fact we were bowling along on flat smooth roads for ages with a cross/tail wind that had us eating up the miles. Until that is we reached Fossano where we hit some hills.

They were proper switchback hills too and it was bloody hot,  32C and little wind. The scenery here was the best of the day though with villages full of ramshackle buildings that looked impossibly old. Some great descents too where we reached our highest speeds of the day, just short of 40mph (68kph) on lovely smooth roads with wide sweeping bends so no braking was required.
We inevitably hit the flat again though as we swiftly moved on towards Alba. Sadly it proved to be a bit of a dump and we were neither of us too keen on staying there, particularly as we'd got there in good time and didn't feel any need to stop. So we headed off again aiming in the general direction of Asti. On route though the weather was changing and starting to get pretty wet. We first tried a nice little village hotel but it was shut so moved on to the strangely, randomly named, Fairy Queen hotel. This was a weird place, it was actually closed, the hotel and restaurant shut for a holiday? In August?.....er, ok then. We were offered a room though and the hotelier assured us there was a place to eat only 20 metres away down the road. The thing was though we felt like we were reenacting The Shining in the deserted hotel. cries of "Here's Johny" could definitely be imagined.
What with that, no Internet access and as we subsequently found out no nearby food we decided to leave. This excited the hotelier no end and we were subject to a barrage of anti-English abuse and threatened with the police unless we handed over 20% of the room rate which would have meant handing over €18 which we didn't and just to annoy him we smiled and told him we were Scottish not English, a wee lie but seemed to score a point for us. We pushed on another five miles or so and got ourselves into a hotel in Asti (Genoa Hotel) that turned out to be a gem. Thoroughly quirky and with excellent food in a lovely, if oddly and randomly decorated restaurant we were fed with what, to us seemed to be a really authentic Italian meal of ratatouille followed by beef in wine sauce served with salad. It was really delicious and capped off an eventful day.

Devil o the Highlands and Pasties

Devil o the Highlands and Pasties

OMG! OMG! cried Sarah, you’re running the Devil tomorrow! Sure enough it was you know, the day of reckoning had finally arrived. Tomorrow I would line up with 150 other runners all intent on running the 43 miles along the West highland Way from Tyndrum to Fort William climbing some 6000 feet over mountain track and bleak, lonely but beautiful wilderness. The journey to here as many will know has been plagued by injury having been out for over a year with knee trouble then after getting back for four months only to be hit by an Achilles problem. So getting in seven months of good training that has got me to the start line has been a huge achievement in itself before the run even got started. Huge thanks are due to Amanda for being my training buddy and for keeping my legs in good shape with her magic hands.

The week prior to the run had been pretty fraught. Tapering doesn’t sit well with me and I stressed about every little sensation in my legs and even managed to catch a cold at the start of the tapering week, then finished off the week by breaking a tooth and having to make a hasty visit to the dentist. The final pre-race run with Sarah and Helen though confirmed I was good to go and firing on all cylinders. I knew I’d had great training and got the long runs in, I was feeling fit and had even been on the wagon for a month and probably more importantly my head was in the right place figuratively speaking so I was confident about how it would go.

Friday night was a bustling scene at BTW campsite as everybody started gathering and the atmosphere was buzzing despite the wind and rain periodically hammering the site. So glad we were in our cosy chalet. Amanda and I arrived first followed by Helen and John. Then, after much cajoling and abuse came world champion ultra-groupie Sarah herSelf (see what I did there SarahJ ) followed by our new buddy, Ewan. A happy hour of banter and chatter followed before we all turned in for what we knew was going to be a short sleep.

The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast, shot at dawn were all analogies that seemed vaguely appropriate as I got myself out of bed although unlike the man to be shot at dawn I didn’t have the luxury of staying in bed till dawn as the sound of runners rousing at 4am began filtering through into my unconscious bliss and cries to the effect of “kindly elevate yourself from your place of slumber” from Sarah got me up and about (she might have worded it slightly differently). I had decided on cheese on toast for my “condemned man’s” breakfast. Somehow over the last few months I’d arrived at the conclusion that cheese was my rocket fuel and would see me float effortlessly across the line in FW, more about that later.

Finally we all vacated the chalet and headed for the registration at the Green Welly where it was great to finally meet the big bearded wonder that is David Etchells. By now the wind was howling and the rain was lashing. Much as it was going to do for much of the day in fact. The clock marched on though and soon there was no avoiding the fact that it was time to go out in the rain and get some running done. Strangely I have no recollection of the actual start itself but it must have happened because I found myself running out of Tyndrum and up the West Highland Way thinking “OMG! OMG! I’m doing it, I’m doing it!” (I say everything twice when I’m panicking for some reason). Now don’t panic DON’T PANIC! (see), keep your pace down you’re not running a 10k you know” I did settle down though, eventually seeing both Noanie and Amanda gliding along and running comfortably. I wouldn’t see them again till the end as we all ran our own races.

I soon settled down though and began running smoothly myself and started enjoying the sights and sounds of people doing pretty much the same as me, heading out on an adventure. On rounding a corner I came across a surreal site of five gentlemen standing randomly positioned on the hillside all having a pee but looking for all the world like a group of meerkats. Still, needs must but I thought it was only the ladies that went together.

The run down to Bridge of Orchy was lovely and seemed effortless and I was surprised how soon it was we arrived at the checkpoint. Loved seeing all my Daftie friends there, this was a real surprise and the fact that they kept popping up all over the place was amazing and lifted me up no end. In fact on leaving the village I had my first of many emotional blips I was to have during the day as I trotted up over Mam Carraigh.

Glencoe

The run over Rannoch Moor was wild but if I thought that was bad there was much worse to come. At least on there I had the wind behind me as I trotted along on my way to Glencoe chatting with folk as we ran together briefly on our journeys. Arriving at Glencoe I was actually ahead of my predicted time which was more to do with my lack of experience in estimation than any surprisingly high performance. Once again there were plenty of Dafties on hand to ensure a lovely welcome as I met up with my support team for the first time. I munched on my err.., wonder food, a cheese and onion pasty and guzzled some coke and water and then carried on my way. 

starting up Devils Staircase

The next stretch was the run through Glencoe where the wind became a headwind and the ferocious rain really hit hard as I arrived at the start of the Devils Staircase greeted by Tim Downie, Ringo and John Munro. The big climb was the place where the weather really gave me a beating. On the summit and down toward Kinlochleven it poured down, the wind was fierce and the rain often turned to stinging hail.

So far though I didn’t feel like yielding although throughout the run I was questioning whether or not I really was going to finish. I kinda felt that if I got through KLL I’d go on and finish and when I did get there I knew for definite I’d make it. I was feeling ok at this point and David Moonie and John cheered me in which gave me a great lift as did seeing my fantastic support team of Clark and Adrienne what with Clarks customary abuse and encouragement J and Adrienne searching frantically in my bag for items that in my imagination I had packed but in reality had forgotten. The only disappointment was I’d forgotten Sarah was going home at Glencoe and she was soo missed at the KLL checkpoint and I missed the big hug I had for her. It’ll keep though Sarah, I owe you one. Also I felt a bit sad for David Meldrum who I knew was itching to run a few miles with somebody but to be honest, when I’m suffering I just need to run alone. My spirits were a little low now, punished by the weather as I had been, even my cheese and onion pasty was limp and soggy but hey, it was my wonder food and will power me unstoppably to the finish right? Erm…. 

battling across Lairig Mor

And so came the big climb out of KLL a long, twisty, steep and energy sapping climb that gave me a texting opportunity although I think it was at this point that the wheels started to come off. If I thought it had been raining thus far, I found out at the top the weather had only been toying with me. As I crested the top of the climb the headwind was incredible and the rain was driving into my face. I could barely run at all now and sort of stumbled and blundered my way across Lairig Mor feeling very sorry for myself. Jeff and his rescue vehicle was a wee oasis half way along and I briefly chatted and drank irn–bru while he reassured me I wasn’t last despite there not being another soul in sight in either direction. All the while I was eyeing up the end of the Glen where it swings right and the wind would come onto my back and willing it to hurry up. Although then, the desolation caused by timber extraction and the foul conditions were just adding to my feeling of misery just briefly lifted by seeing John at Lundavra who told me Helen was still going fine and not far behind.

The overriding memory of my last seven miles on the race was the growing and inescapable feeling that perhaps my beloved pasties had deceived me. Over the months of training they had built up this belief within me that like Barclays Bank they would always be there. When the going got tough they would come to my aid. Alas I was deceived; their promises were built on sand. Soon I found myself in the mire both physically and metaphorically. Energy levels had plummeted to a level below an AAA battery that’s been powering the Wallace Memorial flood lights for a week. I simply couldn’t run. I kept trying but the legs just would not go. The journey down through the zigzag forest tracks was a nightmare. I could not understand why my body was shutting down when I hadn’t got to the end yet. I couldn’t even run downhill and could only walk. A couple of miles from the end Helen flew past me like a thing possessed and asked me how I was. I said I was mobile but couldn’t run. I couldn’t even jog in with her. I marvelled and envied how lightly she could run after traveling so far and how soon she would be at the finish. I just had to dig in and carry on but there was no way I wanted her to wait for me. She had achieved what she had set out to do and I was so happy for her.

Yes I'm crying. Raw emotion. Pain, relief, joy!

the finish

The track seemed to go on for ever as I slowly closed in on my goal but eventually I hit the road leading to Fort William and then came the final interminable walk in to the finish. On rounding the final bend though I saw a group of people standing by where I knew the finish was. They put up a cheer as I saw them and I responded with a wave back to them. At this stage I thought they were just random kindly people at the check point but as I got closer I realised it was largely my Daftie friends. Noanie, David Mooney, Julie, Amanda, Clark, Adrienne, David Meldrum, Helen, John and many others who I knew from fb too. The tears were barely controllable as I got closer and impossible to control as I crossed the line having achieved a dream I once thought had passed me by.

Little further of note happened that day. A slight problem ensued at the leisure centre when it appeared I’d lost my trousers but Clark was able to reunite me with them as I sat shivering in the changing room. The finale to the day was to wearily pick up a takeaway Indian and get home to enjoy my curry with a long awaited glass of wine to end a thoroughly memorable day.

The coveted reward

Thanks to John and anyone else whose pictures I've stolen, hope you dont mind :-)

The Stats

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/353063036

The Hoka Highland Fling (from a supporters viewpont)

Wow what a roller coaster of a last few days it’s been.  The week’s highlight beyond doubt was seeing my best running pal Amanda finally realise her dream and completed the 54 mile Hoka Highland Fling foot race.  As did my other lovely friends from the Ultra Dafties fb site Noanie, Davie Mooney and Peter Hunter. Soooo unbelievably happy for all of you.

Have to say it’s been a nerve wracking few days. I honestly believe I felt more nervous for you all than you felt for yourselves, the butterflies were running riot in me on the lead up. Saturday morning arrived and I was awake at 6 knowing you were all up and getting underway.  Setting off to come out in support did not get off to a good start. Dunno why but on occasions like this I always forget vital kit like my phone. So back I went and picked up the offending gadget off the sideboard where I left it while I was busy hunting for my missing van keys. Hey ho, self-organisation failure today.  What’s this? A txt from Amanda, She’s reached  Drymen already in 2hrs 13 and I’m thinking OMG she’s going too fast. Based on our other runs I thought she’d be around 2:30 but hey, given her finish time what do I know J

Anyway, I got to myself without further cock up to a vibrant Balmaha and checked out all the bags checking them off according to my list. PH nope, Davie he’s gone, Amanda, she’s still to come as is Noanie. So I settled myself in to wait and enjoyed the atmosphere. Wasn’t long actually that Amanda bounded in looking thoroughly in control. Suddenly I’m thinking, on the telly in these circumstances the trainer always comes out with some gob-smackingly motivating speech that has their athlete bounding into the distance with renewed vigour but all I could think of to say was “you’re doing fine” original eh, sorry Amanda J

Next came Noanie, or was it Noanie before Amanda? I can’t remember but in she came all bubbly and happy and we had a big hug before she raced of in a blur of effervescent glee into the distance. Nothing much changed with Noanie on the entire run. If she was a dog shed be a spaniel whose tail would be in permawag mode. A person who has and will many times to come make me smile even if I can’t see her such is her infectious laugh that carries so far.

Next stop was a battle against the traffic on the road to Rowardennan and a brief but futile hunt for a parking space.  Luckily I had my bike with me so parked back down the road and road back.  So there I was, peering at the mass of bags checking the numbers when I became aware of an official giving me the hard stare. I’m thinking “hold on, this guy thinks I’m sizing up the bags seeing which one to nick. Don’t make eye contact and he’ll bugger off” “BOB!” he shouted “jeez!” I jumped as the realization that the official was in fact the Gannet and I hadn’t even noticed. Sorry Alan J

Happily the wait for the gang was made all the more pleasurable as John and Helen Munro arrived and got my second hug of the day. Once again Peter had “just gone as you arrived” a phrase I heard a number of times during the day and was flying along I heard. Soon came Dave who was clearly not in the best fettle but there was a look in his face that left me in no doubt that this man would be a finisher that day.  Next came Amanda looking relaxed and confident. I never once saw that confidence slip all day as she just got on with it. Finally in bounded Noanie still waggy-tailed and full of happiness and soon they were all on the way.

So off I went heading for Ben Glass and again the bike came in handy as parking at the farm was permit only and I was far too tight to possess such a pass.  Helen and John had arrived first and were able to confirm that once again I’d just missed Pete who was going along nicely.  My biggest fear now was with the other three on the hardest part of the route, what shape would they be in when they emerged at this check point. Would I be compelled to think of a gob-smackingly motivating Churchillian speech to get them home where thus far I hadn’t exactly shone in that area. I shouldn’t have worried. These guys were so determined it didn’t matter what I said. First Noanie bounded and wagged her way through and deposited a ton of gel wraps that others had littered the route with. Shame on you others and you know who you are.  Off she went in no doubt that she was soon to be a finisher.

Then came Amanda, steady and confident as ever. Thankfully she needed little from me except a few words of encouragement but I was so relieved to see her going so well I gave her a big hug as much for myself as for her and sent her on her way.

Finally come David a few minutes later, going well but clearly feeling it. As I said before though nothing about this guy  would make him quit.  All my friends today will have had the voice in the head telling them to stop but they’ve all told the voice to stick it up the arse and they’ve beaten it.

My time was up at that point and I knew they were all on the last leg, Clark was on his way out to meet Amanda at the finish and all I had to do was wait for word to come in that it was done. Peter who stormed round was already in. Then came a text from Clark, Amanda was 5 mile from home and on for a sub 12hr finish. Then came a text from a delighted and emotional Noanie who was there, job done. Then Amanda, a fantastic 11:58 finish, and then David rounding up a full house.

What a fantastic thing to have been part of and I’m ridiculously happy for you all. Seeing all these folk on this run and the atmosphere of happiness and sportingness it truly restores my faith in humanity.

Fall and Rise of the Pheonix Runner

You know, I really thought that I’d buried this blog, so deep that I would never ever return to it. Nearly two years ago now, Christmas 2010 in fact, something happened to my leg, I don’t know what it was but it wouldn’t let me run any distance at all. It all started with the most innocuous of slips that didn’t cause any immediate problem, Just that the following morning my knee felt strange. Hard to describe it really but it felt not right. If you remember, at that time we had weeks of really heavy snow such that it was difficult anyway to do any proper running, more like just plodding through mush. All the time my knee just carried on feeling strange. Running on it didn’t really seem to bother it though; it certainly didn’t make it worse so I just carried on hoping it would sort itself out.

Then, back in Feb 2011 it went totally belly up. After an 8 mile hill run I could hardly walk on it the next day. From then on I was forced to rest it. That was my last proper run for over a year. Trouble was even resting didn’t do any good as after a couple of weeks off with everything feeling fine when walking I’d try to run, only to be in pain within half a mile. This process of rest then a gentle try out went on for ages with the same frustrating result.

I couldn’t understand how I could walk perfectly fine, including a five day walk of the WHW. I could cycle fine too but could barely run half a mile. The doctor had sent me for x-ray and with that came his damning verdict. “You got degenerative osteoarthritis in your knee, you’re going to have to consider yourself more as a cyclist than a runner from now on” What he was saying was that everything that defines who I am was now gone. I’m a runner, always have been and I couldn’t get my head round not being able to say that anymore. Seeing other runners out and about was torture too as I felt I’d never do that again. In short I felt old.

I love cycling though and so at least I could keep my fitness levels high but I never quite got the same buzz out of it as I did from running. During 2010 I managed many long rides with no problems at all. I even managed a ride from Montpellier to London hauling full camping kit over the Midi-Pyrenees with no bother at all. Meanwhile the running had stopped altogether. I just couldn’t bear the frustration of setting off feeling like I could run forever only to grind to a dejected halt in half a mile.

You know what though, there’s an old adage, probably one I invented but many others will have used before. “Once a runner, always a runner”. Inevitably I tried again a few months ago, and ran two miles with no problems. Hmmmm I thought, this is good but how long will it last? I then started doing a little bit more and soon I was doing 3 miles two or three times a week. Weeks of this went by and gradually my mileage came up and the frequency of runs went up too.

A few weeks ago I completed the Ochils 2000 Hill Race, something I thought I’d never be able to do now, ok so I came second last but I did it with no problems. Speed is not important to me at the moment I’m just loving running again. I’m also starting to feel if I can do that, I can do anything. I’m loving running with new running friends too, Clark and Amanda Hamilton and Alan Doig, got something lined up with Tim Downie for October too.

So somehow by some means I seem to be back. I don’t believe that my injury was arthritis. I feel arthritis may well have shown up but I don’t believe it was the real issue. I believe there was something else that was undiagnosed and hopefully I have recovered from it. My knee still feels very slightly different to the other knee and maybe always will, I just hope the wheels don’t come off and it all happens again but as time goes on I’m thinking less and less about the knee and just enjoying my new found ability to run.

Deep Atlantic Low

Well that’s what they call it; don’t know why ‘cos I was high as a kite after my run yesterday.

Looking out of the window it didn’t look too promising. The rain lashing against the windows and the wind regularly gusting up to 50mph. So what do you do on a day like that? Go for a run of course, just a short on up my local hill, up onto the shoulder of Craigentaggert then down by the modest 1400” top of Kinpauch.

Running through the catchment area of Highland Spring was reasonably ok if a little slow, the wind occasionally bringing me to a complete stop. Then rounding the shoulder into the glen the wind swung to a tail giving me a good helping hand up to the gate at the track top.

The final push up onto Craigentaggert shoulder was where the fun started though. It was wild and I found myself running steeply uphill, at times completely out of control. Then on the ridge I started to feel the power of the wind like I’d never felt before.

The only way forward was to turn sideways to my direction of travel reducing cross section area and at the same time leaning forward at 45 degrees. I was then able to carefully inch forward a bit at a time. Even then I had to keep throwing myself down flat or be blown goodness knows where.

Running was impossible along there, except for Moss the dog that is. She took it very much in her stride. She gets excited by the smallest of air blasts from my bike pump so in this wind she went insane completely. She was racing round in crazy circles like somebody had let go a balloon, nipping annoyingly at my feet and tugging my trouser leg as she passed me.

Passing the cairn on Kinpauch the wind got even stronger and I had to slither down the first 50m on my backside as it was impossible to stand. Moss was way down the hill at this point standing watching in abject disgust at my pathetic attempts to make headway.

Reaching the track again was blissful as the wind finally reduced to manageable proportions and I eventually got back to the road feeling absolutely thrilled by my experience.

It may have been a Personal Worst time but it was a Personal Best in terms of how much I enjoyed it.

Maggie's Millions

Well that’s what they used to call it, finding yourself without a job. This week my employer who's been a lame duck for a couple of years now has finally had the rug pulled from under them and the lights are about to be turned off for good.

It's really strange, I mean this has by a long way been the best job I've ever had and I'm surprised how I feel. I don't feel sad or even apprehensive about the future. I feel fired up, happy and excited. To be honest a couple of months back I'd pretty well decided to move on and then a week ago I'd fully committed to going and I think being in this frame of mind already has undoubtedly helped when this hit a couple of days ago,

So it's a case of moving on to pastures new but luckily the job I've been doing is fairly specialised and not many are out there doing it so I'm hoping a competitor snaps up me and all my fantastic work mates who are like a family and at least some of us can work together again. If not I'll do something completely different and as an electrical engineer there's plenty of scope for that.

So, heyho the jobs gone but now I can’t wait to see where my life goes next.

Let the Train Take the Strain...

....Or at least some of it anyway. That was what we did on Saturday. We’d camped overnight at the Victoria Bridge car park and set off to walk over the hill to Bridge of Orchy station, catching the 10:45 train just for one stop 20 minutes down the line getting off at Rannoch Station.

Conditions were perfect as we headed west across Rannoch Moor, a bright sunny, warm day with a brisk following wind and as we’d had a nice long dry spell the marshes were fairly dry underfoot too. We were in the woods to begin with walking on a good track that formed the first few miles of the route. The packet of sandwiches lying forlornly by the track spoke of a poor traveller ahead of us who maybe even yet had to discover the loss of his lunch.

Moss, the dog plumbed new depths of depravity today discovering a pile of poo, possibly human in which to roll. Later on a dead deer gave another roll opportunity and an abandoned cow horn complete with scalp provided a tasty snack to accompany the deer thigh she’d been carrying for some while.

Once clear of the woods the route strikes out across the open moor with a temperamental path sometimes there sometimes not though one thing not to desert us was the view. Looking across toward Glencoe it felt almost Tolkienesque like we were marching across Middle Earth on route towards the mountains of Mordor. I fully expected Gollum to pop out of a peat bog at any moment.

This is a thoroughly wild area with very little shelter. The lonely ruin of Tigh-na Chruaiche provides a roof and walls making a good lunch stop. Despite the lack of path, navigation is easy. In good weather, heading west aim for the distinctive Buachaille, heading east aim for the equally distinctive Schiehallion. In bad weather there’s a handy power line to follow. The track suddenly reappears a few miles from Kingshouse and guided us quickly into the Climbers Bar for a welcome break.

The rest of the way followed highly familiar West Highland Way route back toward Victoria Bridge. Strangely, in all the times I’d done that section I’d never done it north to south so taking in the views this way on was a very refreshing change.

A thing that struck us along the route was the number of dead deer. There are loads of them all over the place, a testament indeed to the harsh winter just gone.

Forest Lodge was a welcome site and the motorhome even more welcome. A great end to the day involved much red wine and hot shepherd’s pie watching the sun go down behind Beinn Suidhe.