Carn Aosda

Sunday November 4th 1984

The party was hardly over as Mitch, John Watson and I breakfasted.

Sudden sun and biting cold air and snow peaks peeping above the golden Glen Shee woods were too good to miss.

It was amazing how much snow had fallen during the wild, wild, night (weather-wise I mean)

The snow line was at 1500’ – the ploughs had been out, and as Mitch surveyed the hills from the Cairnwell car park he positively beamed with delight.
‘Now they are beginning to look like they are supposed to’

The wind was still strong, out of the North, chasing big blue patches of sky.

Carn Aosda was blinding white in the sun and every crest around us flew a banner of spindrift. Up we went, direct from the café; a helluva plod of course in deep new powder, but only a thousand feet to the top.

The slope was alive with mountain hares, terribly conspicuous because the snow had caught them still in their brown coats.

We didn’t spend long at the cairn – it was Arctic.

First glissade of the season swooshed us down, and we were back for lunch after ‘cornice practice’ in a gully. i.e. overgrown kids playing in the snow.

Eric Scott

Ben Vane

4th March 1984

Happy Ramblers

Alan, Elizabeth, Sheila, Pat, Drew, Bruce and myself

Having chickened out of the Glenshee trip on Saturday (see previous article!) bad weather, road closed, I was prevailed upon to accompany the above group to Ben Vane next day. Alan solemnly informed me that tradition dictated I should write a few lines on the day since I had weaseled out of Glenshee!!

We set off up the Loch Sloy road from Loch Lomondside at about 11am, enjoying the fine weather and views. Once we were actually on the hill, about 1000ft, the inevitable mist had closed in around us making visibility about 60ft.

Fortunately we had Alan “bleep bleep – it’s 4am in San Francisco everybody” Waugh along with us to keep us going in the right direction. “It must be up,” says he consulting “my” map and his direction finder every two minutes.

Ice axes, or picks as Drew described them (sorry Drew, but I must be honest!), were soon in use and everyone seemed to be enjoying the experience.

Talking about experiences, we did run into a rather strange character who had been dogging our footsteps for a while; an Inspector Clouseau type individual, wearing dark glasses through which he claimed he “couldn’t see a thing”, a map flapping about on a piece of string tied to his jacket and crampons he had on and off more time’s than Linda Lovelace’s…….. well, you know what I mean!!!

He asked us where we thought we were, then, in which direction the top lay. When asked if he belonged to an association he mumbled something about an alcoholics and cripples club; I was inclined to believe him as I could have sworn I spotted two men in white coats chasing him down the hill with nets shortly after!!

Once our pieces were eaten and drink drunk, we made for the top and a rendering of “the hills are alive with loonies” from Drew together with his even worse jokes about Tommy Cooker and Henry Cooker.

As there was no view and the cabaret was terrible, we started down, pausing for a moment to take an action shot of Sheila, leaping the rapids, reminding us that spring is just around the corner and the March Hare was really quite a sensible fellow after all.


Nicky McGranahan

The Aonach Eagach -- Do's & Don'ts

14th April 1984

Hares - Bruce, Clark Kent and partner
Hounds - Alan, Bill and myself

If travelling in more than one car from Glasgow, do reassemble at Tyndrum for rolls, tea and a headcount.

Wait at the top of the glen until everyone arrives and set off together: it is not a good route for a cross country run especially for the more rotund, elderly members of the club trying to keep up with Bill “Flash” Gray and Alan “Piston Legs” Waugh, desperately striving to keep up with Ian “ is it a bird, is it a plane,……….. no it’s Dr Dolittle” McMenemin.

I’m quite sure Stanley didn’t have as much trouble catching up with Livingstone!

As you will have guessed by now, dear reader, we were not the best organised party to have done this walk, although we mountain men of the Moray fraternity did eventually catch up with the advanced party, I for one lost half a stone in the process and gained a considerable number of grey hairs (note – not Gray Hares! There’s only one of him!!) which, unfortunately accentuates the rather deciduous nature of my head in general.

When we reached the first top, Am Bodach, Bill and Alan allowed me a five-minute breather, they having been there considerably longer! The day was perfect, blue cloudless sky, great visibility and matchless scenery.

Not being a geography freak like Bill, nor a stickler for the Gaelic vernacular like Eric, I took Alan’s word for it that Bidean nam Bian was over to the left, doing goodness knows what to the three sisters, and Nevis to the right, all capped in snow.

 The ridge stretched out in front of us, about as inviting as a panel saw balanced across a couple of multi – stories to a flea! “Easy” said Alan, “I’ll give you a pinkie belay” quipped Bill, but I was not convinced. However, spurred on by taunts of “Jim Murray did it”, “We’ll tell Drew”, I (most reluctantly) followed my tormentors, teeth firmly clenched, one eye closed, arms held out laterally, mentally reminding myself to make an appointment with my “shrink” as soon as possible, if I survived to reach a phone

Stopping periodically to rest the exhausted body and tortured limbs, many I’m sure, excellent photographs were taken recording our epic journey, not, by the way, recommended for the elderly or dugs; I think I only just qualified myself!

Photographs, I’m certain cannot match the splendour of one’s own eyes but I hope you will catch something of the awesomeness of the surroundings, perhaps at the next club slide show…….that’s just a wee plug, couldn’t resist, ed.

There were so many people on the ridge; it was like Ben Lomond on a bad day. The amazing thing was, they were all smiling and it set me to wondering if they had all escaped from the same institution all at once!

Anyway, we arrived at a fearsome looking structure Bill called “the pinnacles” where I was goaded up first to “get wan fur yer mammy”. The facial expression will, I’m certain, convey the horror I felt sitting astride yon cone-like-rock, nae parachute, with 3000ft plus drop on either side (ok, it was only 10ft, but I get vertigo climbing into bed every night!).

Ridge negotiated, Clachaig beckoning, Bill Gray on the bell (no money as usual) we started the decent following our intrepid leader Alan, well to the north of the path everyone else was using, but Bill had made the original mistake of saying “pap of Glencoe” which sent Alan in that direction looking for a buxom local teuchter – silly boy!!!

 A good day, an enjoyable experience and excellent company without whom I’m sure I’d never have attempted, let alone done it, and as for my rather romanticised and uninformed suggestion of a year ago to Alan “Let’s do it in the snow when there is a full moon”

FORGET IT!!!!

Nicky McGranahan