C2C once more 2

My train is running late, and I almost get off one stop too soon, because there have been no announcements about any delays.

But not to worry. I meet Ashley at McDonalds. I had no idea what she looked like, but she's the only outdoorsy-looking person who's smiling at me. Kat and Alan materialise as well, and we contemplate our options for getting to Shap, our starting point of the walk, while also getting the car to Orton, tonight's finish line. We agree on the most complicated and expensive (and probably only) option: Kat and I take a taxi to Orton, with A&A following us in their car which they leave at the hotel in Orton, then join us in the taxi to backtrack a bit to Shap.

Outside the George Hotel in Orton, A&A faff around a bit with their gear and their car, and a woman comes out to ask if we want to check in. On noticing us, her cleaner got worried because she hasn't  yet cleaned the place. We tell her we'll be back in a few hours. She says her cleaner is quite slow and we should take our time.

Day 1

In Shap, we finally start walking. Shap was our finish line when we did the first part of the C2C, five long years ago. I still remember the pain in my feet after a very long walk which also went over Kidsty Pike, the highest point of the whole C2C. The word "Erschoepfungsbruch" comes to mind - bone fracture due to exhaustion. Arriving at the ruins of Shap Abbey, we were feeling like ruins ourselves, and I didn't  appreciate the long walk to the supposedly best pub of the town.

But today, I'm still fresh, fairly fit, and well rested.  Also, the Lakes are said to be the hardest part of the C2C, so it should be easy from here on. The weather is pleasant, we walk past a farm where a woman is rebuilding a dry stone wall. She tells us that they have to tear it down and rebuild it every year to get the tractor through.

We meet a few excitable Americans who are looking for prehistoric sites. There will be many more to come: excitable Americans as well as prehistoric sites.

After a leisurely first day, we arrive in Orton and stop at Kennedy's, a chocolate factory. The showers and pub. We're enjoying our pints when suddenly a minibus-load of young farmers storms the bar and the loos. It's a boogie bus. A&A explain the concept. In the countryside, the young people go out this way: a minibus takes them from pub to pub, where they have a wee and buy a bottle of beer, which they then have in the bus on their way to the next village. It's a spectacle, and over as suddenl;y as it started. 15 minutes later no trace of the young farmers is left - although I'm not going to have a closer look at the loos.

We get sleepy, but take a wander around town before bed, visiting a dark church and an ancient graveyard, and watching the stars.

I can only guess what this means.

C2C once more 1

I'm still writing up my holidays. Having finished the Torridon bit, the Coast-to-Coast (C2C) Walk is next - and Kat is about to beat me to it (*click*)!

The C2C crosses the north of England, though well south of Hadrian's Wall. It's almost 200 miles (320 km) long, starts at St. Bees on the west coast by the Irish sea, ends in Robin Hood's Bay on the east coast by the North Sea and crosses three national parks on the way: the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales, and the North York Moors.

Kat and I started walking in St Bees five years ago, crossed the Lake District and finished in Shap, 120 km in. I took some pictures then (*click*), and told some stories about the people we met on the way (*click, click*). But we couldn't leave it unfinished with only 200 km to go, so that was the plan for 11 days in September.

Returning from Torridon, I have a rest day to wash my gear and pack my rucksack again. Tomorrow, I'll take the train to Penrith in the Lakes, where I'll meet up with Kat, and also with Alan and Ashley, our temporary walking companions.

Torridon 7

Today, I'm having a rest day. I've put the memory of my stressful drive up north aside and decide to drive to Applecross, a peninsula that can be reached via a legendary and very steep mountain pass to Bealach na Ba. At the bealach is a car park, and from there you can walk up to a mast and then continue along a nice little ridge to the top of Sgurr a' Chaorachain, a corbett.

I'm quite comfortable with single track roads now - it's easy to stay in my lane when that's the only lane there is! However, I've heard a lot about the steep serpentines on this road, and I'm a little bit nervous.

But no need! Traffic turns out fairly light, and my little car is strong and enjoys the climb. Up at the bealach, I walk up to the mast and turn right - and walk right up the wrong bump first. Oops. Eventually, I find the right ridge to follow - it would have been easier if the clouds were higher up. Two other walkers are ahead of me, and that's good to know. With scrambles, I seem to need permission to go, but if other people are doing them it must be ok.

There are a few small peaks to climb over, some of them very rocky and hands are being used. Such fun! It's like being a monkey child in the trees again.

To my left, I can see the next ridge with almost vertical slopes. To my right is clouds. I reach the end of the spur, which is the top, and have lunch. I turn back, do the scrambles again the other way, giving the bypasses a miss. The clouds lift and I see Skye.

Back at the car park I enjoy the view a bit more before driving over the pass to the Applecross villages. This side is less steep, and the views ahead are lovely - the sea, the islands, the trees and villages by the water.

I stop near the Applecross Inn and have a coffee outside, watching the sea. A little dog really really doesn't like the rocky beach and presses all four feet into the ground, against the pull of its owner. There is a stag in a garden next to the pub. I drive along the coast back to Torridon village, making many stops to let the ten Ferraris pass that have been following me, and enjoy the sun that has come out properly now, and the views.

A quiet day. Lazy. I'm getting ready to leave Torridon tomorrow, but I'll be back for sure. There are a few ridge walks with my name on them. I chat with someone in the hostel who texts his mum because he says she can sense it when he is out hillwalking, and she might worry. I call my parents too.

Torridon 6

After completing my first munro of the day, I leave the Cambridge guys behind and retrace my steps along the narrow ridge. Once back at the chute, I continue on, an easy scramble, looking very scary in places, but every single step is absolutely doable and not too scary.

I'm feeling like I am on top of the world. Only that I can't see the world, just clouds. This is so much fun. I reach another summit and leave it behind when the clouds lift, and I miss out on a spectacular view west over the sea, Ben Alligin, the islands. My view is mostly blocked by the summit I just left. Bummer.

I'm staying ahead of the other group, but comforted by their proximity, indeed very grateful to have them near. Without them I might not have had the confidence to do the ridge. This last munro, Spidean Coire nan Clach, is a short scramble from the trig point, but oh, so exposed. For the first time today, I'm properly frightened to move. There's no rockface to lean against for comfort. I'm not hanging out here but make my way back quickly to the trig point and walk down the zigzags in the scree, a clear path. It ends at a cairn, and my directions tell me that there's a footpath here, going left, leading down the steep slope. Well, there is a footpath, but it soons turns into a landslide, and I can't tell which of the muddy burns is supposed to be my path. There are no foot prints either and visibility is poor.

I wait, thinking that the other group might just be behind me. It's quiet. They don't come, so I keep going. The map says go downhill until you hit a stream. There don't seem to be any difficulties I could run into, although I do see some dark, slippy looking slabs further down, that I'd rather avoid. I carefully make my way downhill, and soon the clouds lift, I see a clear footpath down below, and everything suddenly becomes clear and very easy. The path goes all the way to the road, and some of the guys finally catch up, and we have a chat.

Back at the car I remove my dripping socks and boots and drive back to the hostel. The two guys I met at the Triple Buttress and who went back the way they had come tell me that they were watching me on the ridge while they were walking back down below. I chat with another guy, seemingly a mountaineering veteran, and we invent the midge-sock-dance. This is moving like you're trying to get out of your wet socks quickly when you arrive at your car after a day's walk, while also avoiding to get eaten by the midges.

This guy now sits with his glass of wine at the table next to me, every now and then spraying a bit of RAID in the air around him. I hear "fftt" and then soon after smell the chemicals. I don't mind, he gives me chocolate.

At 9 pm I'm having trouble to stay up any longer. I have tentative plans for tomorrow and nothing left to do, so I go to bed before 10 pm. A minute after closing my eyes I go out like a light.

Torridon 5

I wake up early after a restless night. Someone snored so hard that my earplugs didn't work. I boil a few eggs and make some sandwiches in preparation for a big day. Yesterday, I looked at Beinn Eighe, today I want to climb it if the conditions are right. The plan is to walk up the Coire Mhic Fhearchair, and if it clears up by then I'll go up and walk the ridge and the two munros.

When I arrive at the car park it's chucking it down, and I sit in the car for a while until the rain quietens down a bit. And off I go.

I get drenched by the rain and dried off by the wind twice before I finally reach the beautiful waterfall of Coire Mhic Fhearchair - a great water feature. It reminds by contrast of a very disappointing waterfall in Tasmania which had looked amazing in pictures, but lack of rain made it all thin and sad. No lack of rain here.

Climbing up alongside the waterfall I meet two guys who are also staying in the hostel. I think they're a couple, and they remind me of another couple I once met walking by that disappoining waterfall in Tasmania - although those two were naked (*click*).

"Nothing prepares you for the sudden view of the Triple Buttress as Loch Coire Mhic Fhearchair is finally reached" is what the walk description says. Triple Buttress my arse. I am well prepared for the sudden view, but the Triple Buttress won't show in the low clouds. The guys decide to turn back. I'm wavering, and then some of the clouds lift, and I can see the chute behind the loch which I'd need to climb up to get to the ridge, and it looks fun. I tell the guys I'm doing it. And walk off in the wrong direction. Oops.

The guys send me on my way, the other way around the loch, crossing the top of the waterfall first. This put them off, as the stepping stones are under water, and the water runs fast. But another group arrives, and I let them cross first. No one falls in, so I follow. They are a mountaineering club from Cambridge Uni and are looking quite confident and tell me they're doing the ridge walk as well, so I decide to follow them for a bit more. And then I realise that they are not going for the chute, but straight up the first munro.

I leave them and scramble my way across a steep boulder field to reach the chute. The chute is very steep and full of crumbly scree, and I need to use my hands, but it doesn't seem dangerous. Slipping might mean a bum-shuffle down, not a broken neck. It's good fun really. Once up, I look over the very narrow ridge, expecting views, but only see clouds.

I walk along the ridge to the westernmost top, the first munro of the day, where I meet the Cambridge group, and we shake hands and say well done to each other.

Torridon 4

It's day two in Torridon. I get up early - last night, I went to bed before 10 pm. This is good, I'll have a coffee and try to work up an appetite for my sugary muesli - the only type available in the little shop.

The Glasgow boys give me lentil soup and take off. It's chucking it down. I don't know what to do, but I have to leave the hostel for the day, so I decide to drive to the starting point of today's walk and then see how I feel. The plan is to walk a signposted mountain trail in the Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve.

I arrive at the parking lot and the rain stops. I walk and it's lovely. The rain comes back but it's mostly light now. The trail is very steep but excellent.

At the top it's extremely windy and I'm having trouble to stay upright. I have a snack in the lousy shelter of a large cairn and today, my plan works out: the sun comes out! Only for a few seconds, but it happens twice. And then the rain starts again. Wrapped up in all my layers I start the descent, past a few lovely lochans and across some bubbly streams in spate. They are wonderful. As are the waterfalls on the hills across Loch Maree. All this rain is really bringing out the water features.

I walk down a beautiful gorge, lovely Scots pine, tall and gnarly, all around. When I arrive at the car park I have five minutes in the sun by the loch before the torrential rain is back and I drive back to the hostel. Driving through the massive puddles is fun, and other cars are waiting to let me pass to not spoil the fun I'm having. I see a very wet couple walk along the road and offer them a lift. After 800 m they have arrived at their destination, so this was a bit pointless, but still a nice thing to do.

Back in the hostel I have a hot shower, a pot of tea, plan tomorrow's walking options, read my book and listen to the rain. For dinner I was looking forward to the soup but I forgot to label it and it's gone, which makes me a little sad. After some chat with the other guests I go to bed early.

Torridon 3

I arrive at the top of Ben Damh, there is a proper cairn and a little shelter built from rocks. My plan was that the sun comes out now that I'm up here, but it doesn't, so I don't hang around and turn back. I leave the ridge and lose the path. I wander around the rocky moor, every rock seems familiar but then isn't. Eventually I spot a cairn and find the path again.

Back at the bealach it starts to rain harder. The water is sloshing in my boots and I have to put on gloves as the cold wind is draining all the heat from my wet hands. Walking down, the previously wet path has now turned into a proper burn. Not that that would make any difference for my already soaking wet feet. The trouble is that my boots are waterproof, so the water isn't going to go anywhere.

I see a group of walkers crossing a river below me and joining my path ahead of me. I catch up with them. Turns out they tried to climb Ben Damh as well but gave up because of the weather. I tell them they didn't miss much and stride sprightly past them, feeling young, strong and not just a little smug.

Reaching the woods I spot a massive waterfall that I'm sure wasn't there before. The rain finally eases for just long enough to take a picture.

Back at the car, conveniently parked at the Torridon Inn, I empty my boots, wring out my socks, and get a soup and a coffee in the pub and check out my gear. My trousers are completety soaked as are my pants. But my jacket did a fantastic job at keeping me dry and toasty all day. My waterproof rucksack looks very wet but everything inside is dry. Strangely, the pocket in the lid at the top is not waterproof even though the rain usually gets there first... Other than that, I'm very happy with this purchase, it's comfy and roomy.

Back at the hostel I share my fruity tea with some Germans. They are on a supported mountain bike trip and got mugged in Nottinghamshire. Everyone is gathered in the panorama lounge, watching and listening to the rain together, Scottish, English, Germans united, drinking tea.

The Scottish boys are from Glasgow and give me their leftover chilli con carne - nice! I didn't plan my provisions well, and shops are few and far between. Now, instead of having spaghetti & pesto every night, I have two nights of spaghetti & chilli!

Torridon 2

The forecast for my first day in Torridon is rubbish. But the next days look even worse. The hostel asks guests to leave during the day between 10 am and 2 pm, so I have the choice between a wet walk or spending a day at the Whistlestop Cafe in Kinlochewe.

I'll save the cafe option for one of the next days and decide to walk up Ben Damh, a corbett with a bit of a ridge. It is a proper hill walk but shouldn't be that long a day, or too hard or too exposed (turns out I'm wrong there). And it's only a very short drive away, very appealing having spent most of yesterday in a car. I want to move my legs. The rain is a good opportunity to test my new waterproof rucksack and my new-ish Paramo jacket.

The walk goes up, up, up on a great path though Scots pine along a gorge, across a moor, the rain sometimes easing into a drizzle, a rainbow on my right and Upper Loch Torridon in my back. I reach the bealach, and the wind which was in my back going up now almost pushes me back to where I came from. I should be seeing Applecross but all I see is grey fog soup. How can it be that windy and foggy at the same time?

On my right, there is an optional peak to climb "for good views", but today is not a day for good views, so I turn left along the ridge towards the main peak. I follow a path and can't see where it leads as it disappears in the fog, but it's uphill so that's seems right. It gets rocky and very steep on both sides. It looks a bit scary, but every single step is perfectly doable. I do a risk assessment: What could happen, how likely is it to happen, how bad would it be if it happened. How can I prevent the likely things from happening. For example, turning an ankle versus getting blown off this ridge.

It seems a bit pointless to continue to the end with the wind blowing harder now and in gusts, only to return the same way, seeing nothing much. But I think I'm close to finishing and I can't go back to the hostel until 2 pm, and it's a way to pass the time so I might as well. It's probably a good thing that I cannot see how far down it goes.