Day 1:
The TGO had long loomed for the previous few weeks prior to departure, and after days of frantically dehydrating various meals for the road, we were finally here, at the morning of departure.
We woke early, eager to fly out of the blocks and get on our way to the east coast … before remembering we couldn’t actually ‘sign out’ until 9 am, the competition rules precluding early starters who bugger off at the crack of dawn instead of respecting a more civilised schedule.. . Instead, we decided we’d much rather spend a leisurely couple of hours taking photos and giving ourselves plenty of time to have breakfast at a gentle pace.
After the cooked Scottish breakfast (it looks remarkably like an English breakfast, but got to get the branding right), and much extra toast from the Dornie Hotel, we wished the other Challengers well – meeting an American family, the Jacksons, with the youngest member of the Challenge amongst them, and signed out. In the process, we spotted two cheaters who had deemed the 9am start far too late for them, before we too penned our signatures and headed off. G was struggling with his cold, apparently also having little-to-no sleep the previous night, forcing us to take it carefully. This was likely not helped by the colossal pack (23kg of kit, 51lbs in old money), which he had bravely, or more likely fatally, refused to cut down the day before when we passed Dornie Post Office.
In a previous post on the trials of actually getting to Dornie, I mentioned there were a few calamities involved in actually getting here – but do not fear, there was to be yet more (unwelcome) excitement on the way! During our first climb out of Dornie – a relatively casual gradient considering what we were to face later – we were both contemplating the large distance of hills and valleys ahead of us. Barely a couple of kilometres from Dornie, Gabe winced and pulled up, turned his head and said: “I think I’ve pulled my calf”. I remember a brief pause, swearing a little, before asking if he’s joking. It turns out he was quite serious; I helped him get his pack off whilst he concentrated on massaging the offending leg – we were certainly off to an eventful start.
At this point, there was something ridiculous about it – thirteen hours of travel to get to Dornie, planning every Challenge day impeccably down to multiple choices for campsites, even potential places to stop for lunch (with cracking views of course); on top of bothering to do training weekends with full kit .. and yet still managing to put the whole thing at risk before seeing the first proper peak.
G had admittedly been struggling throughout the night with a fierce cold, but for that to be compounded so quickly on the morning of our first day had a Murphy’s law feel to it: what could go wrong, was going wrong. That said, in the moment I stand by finding it rather hilarious and had to take the piss a little. After I had finished laughing, I decided to leave G massaging his leg (it wasn’t going to get magically better anytime soon), drop my kit with him and blitz the 2k back to Dornie proper and tag us on Social Hiking, a social route planning tool with interactive maps which would let friends and family follow our progress, something I had neglected to do whilst using the Dornie Hotel’s Wi-Fi (and Dornie, like most of Scotland, has atrocious mobile phone coverage). Satisfied with our first geo-tag, I left to rejoin him in the hope it would ease a little for him after a short rest.
On my way back up the hill, I was acutely aware that muscle pulls don’t heal properly for a few days and considering we were going to be on our feet the majority of the time this was going to be a tough situation, especially as calf muscles are absolutely key for hiking. I wondered whether Gabe would need to abandon or delay if he was in bad shape, or whether we would instead alter the route for our subsequent days to hit lowlands only and protect him.
Arriving back, Gabe seemed much more relaxed, having apparently non-stop massaged the muscle aggressively. He knew how important it was he was back moving properly, and seemed confident to continue provided we took it steadily. We eventually left at around 10:30am at a (much) slower pace, making doubly sure to not aggravate it further.
Leaving behind the tarmac road, arriving at the entrance to the Coire was a welcome step in to the wild. We ascended through the steep sided valley with the sun shining, feeling like this was a proper beginning. The river was extremely low, more a large stream due to a lack of recent rainfall, making the jagged rock cut away slowly by millions of years of water and ice even more prominent. The sun-tan lotion made an appearance, despite being ridiculed by friends for even considering bringing it to Scotland, and we slowly made our way through the valley and marvelled as the hills unfolded before us.
This particular route out of Dornie was discouraged by our route vetter, preferring we took the River Glennan route (where 80% of Dornie Challengers appeared to be going), and having now been there I can understand why – the terrain is extremely rugged once you exit the relative easy walking of the Coire path. ‘Rugged’ has different connotations for different people, but rest assured this is very wild country indeed with undulating terrain which will make you work for the views. Even despite this rough ground, it was truly an excellent route with an immediate sense of scale and over all else, space – with this part of our route originally conceived after reading Alan Sloman‘s blog about a Challenge of his which started with the wander through the Coire, and how struck he was by its’ natural beauty.
We were both enjoying ourselves, Gabe more comfortable yet still taking it steadily, both making time to take photos and basking in the sun. We had stepped barely a few kilometres from the road out of Dornie, yet it felt we were in another world. Nobody in sight, no paths, no roads nor vehicles, just glistening waterfalls, trickling water, hills in every direction and a spring in our step. We were making progress towards Beinn Bhuide, something not on our original route, but with such a beautiful day we wanted to add a high point to truly appreciate the panorama – and this would handily give us a viewpoint towards Gleann Gniomhadih and trace the beginning of our ridge walk planned for Day 2, intended as the highlight of our route.
Heading over the saddle towards Beinn Bhreac, there was a definite shortage of water due to all the sources we passed having dried up, and the remaining little pools which were still somewhat present were fetid. We dropped down a little early to Loch na Leitreach to the north of the Falls of Glomach, originally intending to camp above it – it’s worth mentioning this is a steep descent on precarious ground, so give yourself plenty of time and/or light if you want to take it. We followed the river for a little at the bottom of the valley before crossing it to join the much quicker track on the north bank – letting us make quick progress in hunting for a campsite at the head of the Loch. It was almost a perfect campsite, a flat area with room to two convenient trees to hang a clothes line from, and even a ring of stones and few scattered logs if we wanted to get a fire going. There was even a small stack of logs left conveniently by a tree, something we felt was a sign, and after setting up camp we started collecting some kindling.
There was plenty of long grass in the area and ticks were a concern of ours, so I rolled my trousers up and kept an eye for little black specks crawling around – it was approaching dusk and I’d rather not be taking extra critters to bed for the evening!
By the time we got the fire going to the point of a decent blaze, it was quite late in the evening and getting dark. Firing up both of our stoves, I rehydrating my pasta and drank a cup of coffee – enjoying the peaceful spot by the river as the fire crackled, sun gradually falling until it disappeared behind the fells, leaving us with a superb feeling that we had made it to (roughly) our intended campsite and just had to fall gracefully in to our sleeping bags later. The clear sky and the rich smell of wood smoke drifting over us made it a fine end to the evening. Resting muscles and deciding how best to tackle our substantial day 2 would come as we approached the Falls of Glomach tomorrow, and our principal hill day with 6 Munros looming.
TGOC 2017: Day 2 – A ridge too far. (Falls of Glomach to Carn Eige)
L|ve the Outdoors 