A Jolly Jaunt

It's Summer again and time to don the old walking boots! On Saturday just gone, myself, my brother and my eldest son set out for a 46 mile walk around 4 of the wartime (WWII that is) Pathfinder airfields in Cambridgeshire. This is an annual endurance walk organised by the RAF to commemorate the Pathfinder Squadrons who had to circle over the targets in Germany, dropping flairs to illuminate the target for the main bomber force. These airmen are absolute heroes. For the last decade or so I have met some of the survivors at their annual reunion. They risked so much in such terrifying circumstances, the mind doesn't even begin to comprehend. Many thousands of these brave men lost their lives in order to secure victory over the Nazis. It is right and fitting that their memory should be commemorated by this walk. The walk is a painful and punishing affair. It is designed to test a person's resolve and will power. I have completed this walk on 3 separate occasions and can speak from my own experience of just what a challenge it is, and if you are the sort of person who likes to be tested in this way, then I recommend it.

We set out at 4.35 am on what promised to be a really pleasant morning as far as the weather was concerned. Then, black clouds started to appear on the horizon. As they drew nearer , streamers of falling rain were apparent, so we knew we were in for a soaking. I put on my waterproof top. My brother wore his for some of the time, but after a spell of sunshine without it on, he got soaked from head to foot in a sudden downpour. Thunder rumbled around us. Our feet got very wet. This meant our socks lost their springiness, and this probably had a lot to do with the blisters my son developed. What started out as a happy, jaunty walk, gradually deteriorated into a painful slog across boggy countryside from one heavy shower to the next. The weather forecast I checked "on line" the day before said "Light rain" - yeah, right!! Even so, undeterred we plodded on, only stopping in one pub for a coffee and the chance to dry a little. At around 17 miles into it we were pleased that we were feeling pretty good, as this augured well for our forthcoming attack on the West Highland Way next month. However, after about 20 miles, we really started to feel the strain. At around this point, you have used up most of your blood sugars and you start to burn into your body's energy reserves - fat. We struggled on for a total of 33 miles until we reached the fifth checkpoint at Bluntisham, where we were apologetically told by one of the organisers that we were not being allowed to continue and were to be taken back in the comfort of the minibus. The reason for this terrible blow was because it was now getting late in the day and the amount of time and weather conditions made it an unwise option to continue. For that reason the option was denied us. What a tragedy. My son really wanted to hobble on despite the excruciating pain of his expanding blisters. Myself and my brother were also gutted at not being able to continue despite feeling utterly exhausted and near to collapsing. What a shame!!! Next year maybe - maybe not!

Climbing Mount Probable

Just over a month ago I climbed Mither Tap in Aberdeenshire. I climbed Mither Tap because it was there, and also because it wasn't Ben Nevis. I have climbed Ben Nevis so many times now, that I feel I know every inch of it and it doesn't float my boat any more. The views are all so familiar; I know what's around every corner, how tired I should feel at any point. I've climbed Ben Nevis in various weather conditions from bright sunshine, to pouring with rain, to just downright cold and uncomfortable. Its all too familiar - that's why I climbed Mither Tap.

When I speak of climbing, I mean it in the loosest sense. I am not speaking of scaling vertical rock faces or shimmying up overhangs, using crampons and ice picks. I leave all that kind of thing to the heroes, those who have no nerves and feel no fear. When I refer to climbing, I mean it in the sense of walking, trekking, hiking - in a manner which results in a change in altitude, namely up or down the mountain.

I had been meaning to climb Mither Tap for a couple of years or so - ever since I first visited my youngest son after he moved to Aberdeen. Being a lover of mountains himself, he was keen to show me Mither Tap. This is because Mither Tap is the most prominent mountain, though not the highest, of the Bennachie Range of which it is a part. Its more a mount than a mountain; a mounlet perhaps. Whatever you choose to call it, it cries out to be climbed, standing there, beckoning and inviting.

Parking in the tourist car park in the forest at the bottom, we walked the path towards the base. At first, there is only a slight slope, so not much energy is expended. However, once out of the woods, the track becomes much steeper and you start to feel the beginnings of a challenge. It doesn't take long before you are able to stop and take in the awesome views of the surrounding countryside. Because the Bennachie massif stands alone in a gently rolling, but otherwise flat landscape, the views stretch onwards seemingly for ever to the sea. Looking northwards, features of Aberdeen can be made out.

The mountain - I will call it a mountain from now on - attracts a lot of fellow climbers. They range from toddlers barely able to walk and mainly carried by Mum or Dad, to the fitter kind of senior citizen who refuses give in to age. I'm getting a bit that way myself. Mither Tap looks like an extinct volcano; its got that conical kind of shape. I thought it was an extinct volcano. Following our descent, we - that's my youngest son and me - went into the visitor centre and looked at the displays informing visitors of the natural history and geology of the region. I was wrong. Its not a volcano, extinct, alive or just sleeping. It was actually formed over several ice ages, or glaciations. The original range was some three times the height of what we see today, but successive glaciations ground down the range and the landscape to mould it into its present form. That's an awful lot of rock to grind down! This brings home the realisation that everything is changing. Forget climate change. That is a mere blip in the greater scheme of things. Moving geological ages ahead into the future, the landscape will change again, out of all recognition to what we see today. The earth is indifferent to our efforts to control it.

Nearing the top, we found ourselves walking between walls of stones. These are the remains of defenses to the ancient hill fort dating from three thousand years ago which was built on top of the mountain. The ancient fort surrounds the granite outcrop at the summit, though only vague traces of it remain today. From the summit the views are magnificent. Looking out towards the other parts of the massif, the landscape is carpeted by hardy vegetation, dark in hue, and criss crossed by the white tracks of walkers and ramblers. There is more than one way to reach the top, and a lady stopped by to recommend approaching it from the criss cross paths below. Another day perhaps. The summit is a place to linger and ponder the beauty of the countryside around. The sky was cloudy, but not without gaps through which the shafts of sunshine painted their fleeting patterns on the countryside below. People came and went, and the the temperature seemed to drop, though probably didn't. We had ceased to move cutting off the warmth of generated body heat. It was time to go. All too soon, we were back in the car and heading back.

I do plan to revisit Ben Nevis. However, I plan to approach it not from the familiar tourist track as before, but this time from the other side, along the ridges. Maybe then, my boat will float again!