Almost the Last Bothy Trip...

Sorry, I've no pics - didn't take my camera.

I recently went back to Ben Alder Bothy (that's the scene of my bothy debut) only this time Granda tried to kill us all (including Bilbo). We started with a 10 mile cycle with full rucksacks (containing coal) both Granda and myself were lucky not to have to call in the chopper after potentially bad falls. After the 10 miles we discovered that we had taken the wrong road but rather than go back 6 miles (which we should have done) we decided to plod on ditching the bikes by a different bothy as the land rover track disappeared. We were still pretty fresh on the flat (different muscles ye see). But when we started to climb my quads were found wanting because cycling with a full pack means you can't stand up or lean forward when pedaling up-hill so you thighs do an awful lot of work. At this stage though we thought we had maybe 5 miles on a fairly level track mostly round a loch. If we had taken the time to look at the map (something I did about an hour later) we would have turned back and cycled the extra 12 miles. About 3 miles in we arrive at the loch and to my horror, I am completly surrounded by Munro sized mountains, this is when I check the map. (Holy shit!!! look how close all those contour lines are...NOOoo) The track goes over 900m. (a munro is 914.4m) This is with heavy packs remember. Fair-enough we were over half way up at the loch. The climb wasn't too bad with plenty of rests taking in the magical views of the this ring of peaks patched with snow on an amazingly warm and beautiful day (even at 900m it was still warm enough for a vest and shorts) It was at this point though the my will was beginning to strain, we had to decend pretty much the whole 900m. The weight came down on my right leg locking it straight three times, again I was lucky not to severly damage it. Granda was really stuggling having hurt his hip falling from his bike. It was truely the hardest thing I've ever done. Especially the last hour when you can see the bothy, but it's not getting any closer. At this stage I was resolute that this would be the last bothy for me, never again.
Sam and Alec had just arrived ahead of us coming in the less insane 9 miles from the other side. All in all we did about 17 miles including a munro carring a ton.
Bilbo seemed fine until he sat down, paws blistered, muscles acheing. I truely thought he wasn't escaping Ben Alder with his life.

The next day was rest day, although I had the exciting experience of climbing a tree for the first time in years (there was a dead limb high up so I cut it down) I was shitting it though, I had to meditate for 5 minutes just to stop my legs shaking. In my defence, if I had fallen, I wouldn't have been able just to stand up and brush off the twigs.

The whole weekend I was scared of going home. However, when it came to it, it was a doddle. I arrived at the bikes without feeling even a mild burn in my legs. We decided that it was best for me to wait with Bilbo and the bags, and wait for Granda to bring the Landrover to us. Thus saving Granda's marrage by returning with a living dog. Not bad though for a dog who has just spent 6 months in hospital. Didn't get back to Edinburgh until after 11pm obviously Granda still had another hour to go it alone back to Glasgow...