There's always a way

I hesitate to inflict more of my medical history on you, but my need to boast about my latest  ingenious achievement leaves me no alternative.

The wound on my shin inflicted last September took five months to heal; it was complicated by accompanying cellulitis. The residual redness and flaky skin has now been diagnosed as some kind of eczema necessitating the knee length compression stockings previously mentioned.*  I also have to daub the area with Epaderm (an emollient). That is enough of the medical stuff which I do not want to discuss further.

The Epaderm comes in a weighty (500g) plastic tub. I hope to set off on another backpack on the 19th of this month and do not want to carry that. It is not sold in smaller amounts.

My current tube of toothpaste has just finished. I cut off the bottom, cleaned it out and stuffed it with Epaderm. I then folded the bottom edge back on itself and stapled it closed then put insulation tape round the bottom to protect myself from possible staple lacerations and to complete the seal, et voilà.

To avoid brushing my teeth with gungy ointment, I attached a label.


* The stockings are not worn at night. I thought I was doing ok with the difficult task of donning them in the morning having developed a good technique, then the last medic I saw told me I should do this whilst still in bed, before the blood rushes down the leg !  That task is at the limits of my body's pliability. I am hoping that my aforementioned ingenuity will develop an easier technique. 

BRORA MARILYNS SLIDESHOW

Here is the slideshow for my recent twelve day trip to Brora (north east coast Scotland).


CLICK HERE

Click on the first photo to continue as full screen slideshow.

Day 12. Saturday 2nd May

Brora.

I spent the morning reading then drove into Brora and had a little walk round. Here are a few photos.




Immaculate garden


Brora harbour. Not a lot going on these days.


The old ice house


Brora war memorial




Carrol Rock across Loch Brora. Very craggy - intend to research re rock climbing when I get back - no Internet moment. Photo too dark but can be lightened with Photoshop.


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Day 11, Friday 1st May

Creag Thoraraidh, grid ref: ND 040 187. Via transmitter Tarmac service road from Navidal, north of Helmsdale.

Over breakfast I continued to read The Bradford Fire by Martin Fletcher (see my post: Day 9, 29th April). Showery weather was not encouraging, I carried on with the read until I finished the book at 11:30. I was expecting more circumstantial evidence to emerge about Heginbotham's involvement with the fire; he was the chairman of Bradford City Football Club at the time. His numerous businesses over the years had scored eight insurance claim fires, and the author brings this to our attention and quite rightly questions such unlikely coincidence, but no further evidence, circumstantial or otherwise is offered. Martin Fletcher does ponder why there was no police investigation into this man's affairs. Heginbotham's business dealings were often questionable, and he was proved to be an out and out liar regarding his declarations of ignorance about correspondence regarding safety requirements from various public bodies, and also regarding his announcement of plans for rebuilding the stand for which he said categorically that steel had already been purchased. All that was fiction.

The overwhelming facts emerging are the non-implementation by various governments over many years of recommendations made by various official enquiries into similar disasters at football grounds and other sporting events.

With all that rambling round in my head I jumped in the car and set off up the A9 to Helmsdale and did this final Marilyn (eleven in total I think).

I know I am not going to climb all the M's but I would like to think that I have done a good share of fairly difficult ones and that has been the case up here so far.There are many Ms that you can win by a very short walk and some where you can actually drive to the top. From the map today's hill appeared to almost qualify for "easy" albeit a four mile steep walk there and back, but on a Tarmac service road for transmitters on the summit.

There were two lots of masts on the summit plateau about quarter of a mile apart with a trig point plonked halfway between, but a couple of hundred yards across rough moorland off the road. To add to the confusion the Harold Street website (my source for the M's list) put the highest point in the middle of the moor between the first mast and the trig. On arrival I couldn't tell visually which was highest point and spent some time wandering about the moor visiting them all. GPS confirmed I was standing on Harold Street's grid reference but there was no cairn or other indication - anyway I have no qualms about giving this one a tick - 'twas a bit more a tricky than first indications from the map suggested.

Back in Helmsdale I found Thyme and Plaice, a free wi fi café. I hadn't noticed the name on entering, just the wi fi notice. I asked the girl for the password and got no result when I typed in "timeandplace", but all was resolved with a little smile. Here I met a father and daughter from California who were cycling round Scotland with good road bikes fitted with Ortleib pannier bags carrying their camping equipment. They had already been all the way up the west coast - a far cry from many foreign tourists who drive up the motorway and think they have seen our country. I do recommend Thyme and Plaice if you are passing by here.

Why, in all cafés, do they place your cake on top of the paper serviette so that it has often become messed up before you use it?

I am typing this on Saturday and I have decided to chill-out for the day before going home tomorrow, so no more Ms for the moment folks.




The Tarmac road - about halfway up


The most distant of the masts


Morvern from the undistinguished summit


Thyme and Plaice


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Day 10. Thursday 30th April

Beinn Mhealaich - NC 961 149

From track from A9 near West Garty.

That is now ten consecutive hills without seeing anybody. A few hundred yards up the track from the road I did meet a Polish guy who was doing some work for the owner of a holiday cottage, but it was hardly on the hill. I haven't specifically recorded with all these hills, but have been aware of hardly ever seeing any footprints despite hundreds of boggy locations where they would have been unavoidable, and today I took particular notice and definitely never saw one.

Sunshine, blue sky and big billowing white clouds were with me until arriving at the summit. It is a cliché in articles about hill walking when they say weather can suddenly change, but change it did and quickly. Just after getting a couple of photos dark clouds formed, wind whipped up to gale force and snow came. I set off back and within another fifteen minutes the wind subsided and I was back with the blue sky and sunshine.

The track I had followed for the first kilometre from the road wended its way through extensive gorse before emerging onto the open hillside. I took careful note of the point of emergence, but on my return, although I knew I was within a few feet I couldn't find it, just a wall of gorse. I plunged in at random. I could see a mini windmill generator sticking up above the cottage only about a hundred feet away, but had to battle through gorse a small clearing and then some more gorse before finding the path.






Looking back down the track to the sea on the ascent


Looking to the east and the sea from the summit.


South from the summit




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Day 9. Wednesday 29th April

The rest day was enforced. Rain all night and nonstop since precluded me from venturing on the hills - I may set off if rain is threatened, but the days of doing so when it is in full swing and likely to persist are over.

I had a leisurely breakfast and finished off MAMista by Len Deighton. The setting is in a South American country jungle with a dictator government and Marxist guerrillas in the south engineering the revolution. There is a British ex doctor turned business executive, a spoilt idealist American brat and another American all mixed up with the guerrillas. The U.S. Government have found oil in that jungle and their amoral involvement is frighteningly depicted.

The quality of writing shines through with exquisite cameo character descriptions and situations described with such acutely observed minute detail one can only wonder at Deighton's imagination. There is a superb sketch of the U.S. president being briefed by his chief advisor whilst having his early morning shave. He has cut himself and keeps attending to this at the same time as listening to his aide.

I have now read the first fifty pages of "Fifty Six - the story of the Bradford Fire" by Martin Fletcher. This relates to the fire at Bradford City Football Club in 1985 when 56 people died. Having been born and lived in Bradford until I was over thirty, and knowing some of the directors of the club personally at the time this is of particular interest to me. The chairman of the club was a prominent business man who had been involved in various enterprises, and coincidentally connected with eight other fires - I am fascinated to learn more of the author's conclusions.

By 1:00 pm I succumbed to cabin fever and drove to Golspie for some shopping then back north up the coast to have a look at Helmsdale. That turned out to be a rather drab little ex fishing town with the saving grace of a pretty little harbour, but in the relentless rain and poor light most places would look drab.




Helmsdale harbour


This coastline must be the best place anywhere for gorse. Photography does not have to depend on bright sunny days.

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Day 8. Tuesday 28th April

Beinn Domhnaill - NH 679 967 and Creag a'Gobhair - NH 655 939

From track south shore of Loch Buidhe - NH 661 983

and from Clashcoig - NH 639 940

Being solo on a trip/holiday like this does give me freedom. Last night I had talked myself into having a rest day, but on awakening to glorious weather and feeling that sleep had given me sufficient rest, I decided to set off, but only with the intention of climbing the first of the above Marilyns.

Back at the car after that ascent it was still only 12:00. I had pre-plotted all the Marilyns in this area on iPad Memory Map and it was only then that I scanned to see if there was another modest ascent nearby. I was away again on a ten minute drive to number two. It is difficult to explain, but I sort of rebel against planning, and I find satisfaction in this kind of free-flowing decision making based on my own experience and whims.

These two Ms were a bit nondescript, well relatively; what a joy it is to be back in Scotland with good weather and remote and diverse hills. When I step outside the car here at some remote spot and take a deep breath something powerfully invigorating happens to my being, "...I get no kick from champagne, mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all..."

The terrain is hard going with hardly a footpath, but that adds to the sense of wildness - it is not for the faint hearted and navigation skills are constantly put to the test. Finding that featureless point in the edge of a forest where you emerged onto the hillside on the ascent when you are returning is a source of satisfaction and perhaps smugness, but if you mess it up there is only you who knows and you can choose whether to find your own way of dealing with the humiliation, or maybe use it as a self deprecatory post on the blog.

Yesterday I had ascended the first kilometre on a track before striking onto the hill from its terminus. On the return I had to use a compass bearing to find the end of the track again and despite it being a sizeable feature in the landscape it was not visible until I was within twenty yards.

Including Burnhope Seat which I climbed on the way on my first day I have not seen a single person on nine hills. I am not saying that is good or bad, but from memory that must be some kind of record for me. I don't mind meeting people now and again but in larger numbers the attraction for me of remoteness and peace and quiet is spoilt. Walking on a lowland backpacking trip is a different kind of experience altogether.




Just for the record - from the summit of Beinn Domhnaill



From Creag a'Gobhar. I think this zoom shows Sron Gharbh and Scaraben





Summit of Creag 'a Gobhair


From Creag 'a Gobhair

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A NOTE TO FELLOW BLOGGERS: Posting comments on blogs is a problem with the kind of signal I have most of the time, but I am more easily able to read your posts, and rest assured I am doing that. Will try to catch up later.




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