Meet The Fatdog!!!

I know a number of you would like to meet The Fatdog…well here she is in action !  This is why she’s leashed up anywhere near a crag or ridge when there’s snow on the ground !

The Taking of Tea, Scones and Strawberry Jam

As the years pass by I have become increasingly edgy when I find I’ve led The Fatdog into an exposed situation.  Narrow summit ridges are a case in point.  Narrow summit ridges covered in snow promote me to a superior league of “edginess” altogether.   As we neared the final push up the white covered ridge to the summit of Binnein Mor I was feeling very edgy indeed.

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I hadn’t even considered doing a Munro when I scanned the weather forecasts during the week.  In fact I hadn’t been thinking much about hillwalking at all (“Burn the Heretic” they scream!).  For me and The Fatdog November is a time when thoughts turn to easier pursuits so I was quite surprised when, on Thursday evening, I began to plot a major outing.  The forecast had an optimistic feel to it with potentially a bit of brightness and a reasonable chance of walking cloud free Munros in the west.  Too good a chance to miss really.

The alarm went off at 6am and by 9am we were off on the wrong track from Kinlochleven to Loch Eilde Mor.  As usual the most difficult part of the day is getting out of the car park and once more we had failed the most basic of navigation tests.  Still we ended up almost where we had intended, we had just taken the roundabout tourist route to get there.  It did however give us our first photo of the day…

Loch Leven with the Pap of Glencoe (left)

I have no intention of detailing the route for the next couple of hours – follow track is about as detailed as it gets.  I couldn’t call the route scenic other than the early looks back down Loch Leven..  Mostly it was relatively bleak moorland on the right with the uninspiring south slopes of the easterly Mamores to our left.

We gained height as the path climbed gently across the south face of Sgor Eilde Beag, the panorama to the south gradually expanding in all its glory.  From Beinn a’ Bheithir in the west past the dramatic Aonach Eagach Ridge all the way to Schiehallion in the east, mountain top after mountain top became etched on a clear skyline.

It's a very nice path...

I found a great path!  Not just a good path…a great path.  On my Harvey map I noticed a zig-zag line, climbing from the main path across the south face of Sgor Eilde Beag.  It was where I wanted to go but I was dreading it.  I imagined a badly eroded trail with death defying scree.  Much to my amazement it was in perfect condition with the type of finished surface that allows you to ease your way upwards with barely any effort.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  The Fatdog and I virtually flew up the face of Sgor Eilde Beag to the ridge beyond!  It was there we caught our first glimpse of Binnein Mor…and the snow.

(Centre - unnamed top) - (Left - Na Gruagaichean) - (Right - Binnein Mor)

If you look at the photo above – we headed straight for the top in the middle – then cut east (right) to the summit of Binnein Mor.  But first I wanted to have a quick look down to Coire an Lochain and Sgurr Eilde Mor (off right of photo).

Sgurr Eilde Mor and Coire an Lochain below

A confident Fatdog demonstrated how to “arrest” in snow without the aid of an ice axe.

Sometimes you get the light, and sometimes you don’t.  Today we were lucky.  Although the sky didn’t look too promising on the way up when we gained the east –west Mamore ridge a localised band of sunlight floodlit both the Mamores and Ben Nevis on the opposite side of the glen.  The low, late autumn sun brought the panorama to life.  The mountains gleamed.  From the car park it had taken us 3 hours to reach this point but as I looked west along the Mamore ridge I had to admit it had been 3 hours well spent.

The Mamores

The Mamores and Ben Nevis

As we stood admiring the view the bright sunshine began to dull and the colours on the surrounding hills began to fade.  It had been spectacular while it lasted though.  For FD and I it was time to get down to the serious business of the day, the ascent of Binnean Mor.   I looked at the approach for a wee while trying to anticipate any problems for the Fatdog, but it looked a straight run in with only a couple of places nearer the top where things were narrowing a bit.  On went Maisie’s lead and off along the ridge we tramped.  I realise that the lead won’t stop a fall (which I really don’t anticipate) but it does at least stop her casually wandering near the edge or rushing off to the summit cairn in search of discarded food.

The east end of the Mamore ridge heading for the summit of Binnein Mor

Nearly there!

It went pretty much as expected with no real dodgy bits other than at the very top but it did narrow “interestingly” a couple of times.  I imagine it would feel nothing on a summer’s day but with a little snow on the ground there is always that wee doubt at the back of the mind.

Looking back

Na Gruagaichean

Summit done!  Hmmm…now, could I be sure that the point at which we were uncomfortably perched was the summit…or was it at that pile of rocks 20m away…at the far end of the rocky arête?   I looked closer…it didn’t matter.  No matter if it was, there was no way I was taking The Fatdog across that snow covered knife edge of jaggy boulders.  As it was feet and paws were jammed together while we shuffled around on very top of the mountain in an area some 600mm square with large droppy-off bits to either side.  It was time to beat a snappy retreat.  We stepped down.  I checked my watch 12.45pm, time for nibbles.

The summit arete - where Fatdogs fear to tread!

I scraped the snow from a flattish rock to make way for my foam mat and began removing various items from the pack.  Flask, lunch box, choccy bar, Labrador head…I retrieved FD’s goody bag from the bottom of the pack and gave her a chew to keep her occupied whilst I sorted out my snack.

The snow was a tad deeper near the summit...

...and the weather was having second thoughts about behaving itself - but it cleared!

The Fatdog was trying to stare me out.  I glared back, my fruit scone with strawberry jam wedged firmly in my gob. From somewhere behind us, hidden by the summit rocks, there was a determined scraping noise.   A lone figure appeared, slowly clambered off the arête and made its way down to where we sitting.

“What a great day!” the stranger exclaimed.

“Absullty fashntshc!” I responded, my mouth crammed full of scone and jam.

“Houw, Houw, Ho-uuwww!” added The Fatdog, totally ignoring our new acquaintance, eyes firmly fixed on the remains of Asda’s finest home baking crumbling in my hand.

“Shooshhk!!!” I spluttered at FD, fragments of semi-chewed scone spraying into the chill mountain air..

“Houw, Houw, Ho-uuwww!” insisted The Fatdog completely ignoring my unintelligible command.

With no discernable hesitation the new arrival continued to pretend he was talking to a normal human being and continued the conversation as if I hadn’t covered the summit in a fine layer of scone crumb residue.   I swallowed a big mouthful of tea to clear the last of the bun from my throat and made a stab at coherent conversation.

The Fatdog, persistent as ever, continued the demanding “Houw, Houw, Ho-uuwww!” until her gob was firmly in possession of the last drop of strawberry jam from the last crumb of scone.

Our man from Greenock was heading off to Na Gruagaichean and from there back down the corrie towards Mamore Lodge.  It would have been good to do the circular but I had no idea how difficult the rock section of Na Gruagaichean would be for FD.  We had had a good day so there was no point in pushing our luck.  We sat and watched our brief acquaintance quickly make his way along the ridge towards the adjacent Munro.

The "Man from Greenock" bids farewell...and heads west.

A quick look at my watch told me that, at our sedate pace, there was no chance of us doing another hill anyway, so for me and The Fatdog it would be a straight forward walk-out the way we had come in.  It was now 1.10pm and it would take us until roughly 4pm to reach the “Tank”.   I packed up the non edible remains of lunch and whipped my walking poles from the back of the rucksack.  Then, for FD and I, it was the long empty descent back to sea level at Kinlochleven.

Our homeward journey down the ridge to Sgor Eilde Beag - and from there to pick up the path back to Kinlochleven

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It’s 3pm and FD and I are sitting at a granite memorial bench just off the estate track looking down on Loch Leven.  Unfortunately the sun isn’t far enough round yet for a classic sunset and is lurking behind the dark solid mass of Beinn a’ Bheithir, but there’s a growing shine to the loch’s surface.  I pull out the camera for the last time today.  In the distance I can see the mobile phone mast just along from the high perch of Mamore Lodge Hotel so it’s time to call home.  J’s pleased that I’ve “clocked in” early (still daylight) and we have a chat as I pour the last of the tea into my cup with the light gradually dropping over Loch Leven.  I munch yet another choccy bar and The Fatdog pillages the pack for another Bonio.  We’ve about an easy hour’s walking to the car but it’ll pass pretty quickly as we drop back down through the native woodland to Kinlochleven below.  Another 5 minutes and we’ll start back down the track but for now we’ll just sit here and take in the view.

A View from a Bench

Bigger photos for Binnein Mor

I have uploaded a number of the photos of Sunday’s trip onto Flickr.  I think they look a lot better LARGE.  For those not familiar with Flickr – click on the link below, click on the thumbnail of the photo you want to see, then click all sizes on the menu – you should then see the big photo !  I hope.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fatdogwalks/sets/72157622777139350/

Not a Bad Day Out !

It was a pretty good day!!!  .  We only did Binnein Mor – which fitted into the alloted timescale just fine.  Here’s a few photos to whet the appetite   .

"Big Ben"

That's a Munro down there!!! (left of picture)

The Fatdog on Summit Approach

On the Summit of Binnein Mor

The Mamores it is!!!

Decision made – we’re off to our favourite hunting ground, The Mamores.

Fancied doing the Devils Ridge as we only got half way over the last time before Cap’n Jack took a wobbly.  But I think I’d want an extra minder for The Fatdog for the crux…so maybe not.

We’re going for a Kinlochleven start (so we can walk through the woodlands) taking the track for Sgurr Eilde Mor, cut up Sgor Eilde Beag and head for Binnein Mor (1130m).  We may follow the ridge back to Na Gruagaichean (1056m) depending on time.

I’ll figure out how to get back down later .

Sunday’s Lookin’ Good

Friday 6 Nov.

The excitement mounts!  The Fatdog and I haven’t “done” a hill since The Cobbler in mid-September but at last a walking day and (what looks like) a weather day coincide .

FD and I are Goin’ West…and it’s getting colder!

Now, all I’ve got to do is decide where we’re going…

Sat 7 Nov.

Really getting excited now – weather lookin’ even better!

“Go West”…

…Life is peaceful there

“Go West!”

….In the open air

“Go West!”

…Where the skies are blue

“Go West!”

…This is what we’re gonna do…

A “Challenging” Thought

A couple of days ago I had a dig at the geocachers…again. 

“Unfair!” you cry.  “Pick on someone your own size!”

So, being a caring organisation that is prepared to take into account the views of its readers, The Fatdog Broadcasting Corporation has taken the not so difficult decision…to have a go at the Outdoor Bloggers instead .

The OB’s are buzzing just now with one topic in particular – next years TGO Challenge.  The event, organised/promoted by the walking magazine TGO, appears to be organised so that walkers from south of the border can be invited to participate in their own cross country walk across Scotland in the merry month of May.  

May!  The midges are only just beginning to flap about ineffectually in May.  Call that a challenge!  Why not tackle it in July or August then we’ll see how hard you are . 

I digress. 

Oddly enough I’ve never noticed anything about the TGO Challenge on the Scottish hillwalking forums so maybe it’s less frequented by us Picts.  I’ve no doubt some of my distinguished fellow bloggers will keep me right on that point…or tell me I read the wrong forums.

The excitement exuded by the OB’s is equal to that of nervous weans waiting for their exam results to pop through the letterbox. 

“Will I get a big envelope?” A thought which appears to bring big happy smiles to their eager little faces.

“Or, will it be a little envelope?”  Sounds of uncontrollable sobbing can be heard in anticipation of this unspeakable possibility.

Well, the results are now in and the weans are posting up faster than a bunch of 13 year old girls on the subjects of clothes and boys.  It’s time for congratulations and consolations.

There was one comment that caught my eye.  An unfortunate soul had been given a D- and as a result had been told that they were not being allowed to go on the school trip.  Fair play though, the miserable creature recovered well and through the sobs pointed out that there were lots of other trips that could be done instead.  The others crowded round patting shoulders consolingly.

My forehead thumped rhythmically off the desk in front of me.

Am I being totally dense here?  So you can’t be registered but what difference does that make?  I’m sure you’re still allowed to walk across Scotland with your mates when you want, or is nobody else allowed to walk across the country in May other than TGO participants? 

Hmm (scratches head and studies the resulting un-housed parasites), I’ve never thought about it but maybe it’s against the “rools” to walk with someone who is registered.  Worse still, maybe you’re not even allowed to talk to someone who is registered?  In order to maintain the purity of the event has Mr.McN resorted to snatch squads stationed across the country ready to descend in dead of night and silently remove unregistered rejects? 

Aaaarghh! 

I’m baffled.

All in all I think I’ll leave them to it.  For those of you with the big envelopes have fun and for those unfortunate enough to have small envelopes well…be little devils…sneak along for the walk.

Autumn in Devilla Forest

Balmy is not a word usually associated with the weather on Halloween, yet hear we are on the 31^st October and I’m walking through Devilla forest near Kincardine (on Forth) in my wafer thin, blue checked, Columbia walking shirt with my softshell tucked safely away in the bottom of my pack.  Short sleeves this time of year?  Shouldn’t happen, it’s unnatural!  Mind you so is geocaching but The Fatdog and I are busy following the whim of our prima donna GPS as it swings its needle dramatically this way, then that, pretending it has some idea in which direction we should be travelling.  I threaten to put in back in the pack inside FD’s food supply.  That seems to work and it grudgingly stops faffing about and points with gun dog certainty towards a spot near a boundary wall at the edge of the trees.

Once again we find ourselves avoiding the hills.  It’s becoming embarrassing.  My available walking days are just not lining up with good weather windows (not that there’s been many of those) and the whole situation is exacerbated because Cap’n Jack and I can’t sort out a suitable date for our regular monthly hillwalking fiasco.   We managed to miss October altogether and there doesn’t look like much chance of an opportunity for another couple of weeks.   Hopefully we won’t be tempted into attempting one of our more “cram as much in as possible” walks, like we did at this time last year.

But returning to today’s dog walk – we are in Devilla Forest chasing a geocache.  Strictly speaking we’re looking for 2 geocaches – well we were – until I discovered that some “eejit” had forgotten to download the second set of coordinates into the GPS!  So one geocache it was and this particular wee box had been hidden near the site of what is known as the Standard Stone where it is said that standards were raised during the Battle of Bordie in the 11C.

With our less than trustworthy GPS leading the way The Fatdog and I stomp across the stone heading in the general direction of the edge of the forest.  The GPS beeps and I groan.  I hate looking for wee boxes in long grass.  Collapsed rubble from the wall suggests a hiding place but sadly there is no sign of recent disturbance.  The Fatdog lies down waiting patiently while I crash about in the undergrowth muttering darkly. Ten minutes go by and still no sign of the cache.  Disgusted, I reach down to pick up the pack and that’s when I stand on the box.

It was where it was supposed to be so I can’t complain.  I think the near mandatory out of place stone had been moved and was thus not covering the entrance to the boxes hidey hole.  I had lifted this stone at least 3 times but stupidly had not thought to look to either side.  Oh well, another lesson learned.

Here’s a few photos…

And remember…

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If you ever throw a Bonio into a forest for a Fatdog to chase…there will be consequences!

10,000 Up!!!

I’ve just noticed that today (4 November 09) the blog has crawled past the 10,000 hit mark (massive round of applause), which may be pathetic in the overall scheme of things but does give me a fragment of hope to cling onto.

But, wait a minute…

I’ve now to decide whether I’ve attracted 1 viewer 10,000 times – or alternatively – 10,000 viewers…once.  Hmm, either way it’s a bit of a worry.  Don’t you just hate statistics!!! 

“Mocking” the Geocachers

As cold November has arrived I think I fancy doing a hatchet job on the geocachers again.  With winter fast approaching this is the time of year when I begin to think about geocaching as an alternative to battling up mountains, not that I’ve done a lot of that recently mind you. 

Why could I be so cruel as to pick on the geocachers yet again?  Well, every time I make a left-field comment I always find some intense geocacher has to take it literally.  Hell, I don’t even have to make the comment in the first place…I can even create outrage by proxy.

Take the time, for example, that a geocaching friend of mime kindly took the trouble to post on a geocaching forum that I had started a blog to cover the exploits of my travel bug (don’t ask) in a “who can do the most miles in a year” race.  You’d have thought that that would be fairly safe.  Oh no, not to some geocachers.  One managed to kill the post stone dead (and any chance of attracting a readership) in his solitary reply.

Because the race was based on one team from Scotland and one from England I had playfully suggested that we might want to soundly thrash the “auld enemy”.  The reply came up to the effect that he refused to comment on the blog as it might offend our English neighbours.  And that was that, there were no further comments on the post other than the posts originator.

Looking on the bright side, the good news was that my blog had, at minimum, managed to offend at least one person so, on that tenuous basis, I reckoned I might be asked to take over Frankie Boyle’s spot on Mock the Week!