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GLENS DESSARY AND KINGIE

       18.0 miles               2701 metres

Start                                         Sunday          09.10
Sgurr na Ciche                                               10.30
Garbh Chioch Mhor                                      10.45
Sgurr nan Coireachan                                  11.23
Sgurr Mor                                                       12.31
Gairich                                                            14.14
Finish                                                              15.05

Time:           Estimated    9.00           Actual    5.55

I was out of my sleeping bag and into my shoes within a minute of John's sudden arrival. I had been going less than a quarter of a mile across the wonderful flat grass and yellow iris when I remembered that I had intended to borrow John's water bottle. I knew there would be no water for some hours on the ridge. However his unexpectedly early arrival had sent my adrenalin soaring, and I did not want to waste any unnecessary time. As I reascended the inland path I cursed myself more and more. Dehydration could lose me far more than the odd minute at the start. However the weather did not look as though it would be as hot as yesterday's. Anyway I drank to bloating point in the last streams before the ridge.

In fact as I reached the summit of Sgurr na Ciche a steady rain started falling. To my great surprise I passed a man on the steep drop to the saddle, but was running as fast as possible because I was interested in getting the fastest time between two Munros, and I thought this might be a suitable place to do it. Any hope of this evaporated as I had to retrace my steps up a gully that had led to open space.

These wonderful hills proved more popular than I had imagined, (my previous visits being in cloud and heavy rain or snow,) and I begged three wonderful drinks in the next two hours. It may be an obvious ridge but the summits are big and steep protrusions, (like a series of less rocky Great Gables for those who only know the Lake District). I risked contouring round Sgurr Beag and hit a good line, but another time it easily might not work.

All the way I had been calculating the time required and revising it downwards, as I wanted to take more off the schedule than John had done on his. As I slogged, desperately tired up Sgurr Mor, I felt 7 hours was the best I could do. I was not too tired to get satisfaction from visiting the summit of Sgurr an Fhuarain, not a Munro but a new top for me, although I was unable to run up it as I had hoped I would.

Now came the biggest drop and reascent of the leg. I'd been going for four hours, and seven seemed definitely on despite my tiredness. The descent was much more enjoyable than I was expecting – the tiredness was general rather than in the thighs, and the streams at the bottom beckoned.

After a good fill of boggy water, I set off on the windy stalkers' path up Gairich. Experience of being tired was the only thing that kept me plodding slowly, but with barely a pause, to the ridge. I passed the summit cairn without pause, no doubt to the surprise of the dozens of people sitting there, but I had only been 5 hours and 4 minutes. A glance at the map showed 5 miles, mostly downhill, and I felt that 6 hours was possible.

The sharp rocky ridge made me realise why my heart rate had reached 200 here on an August day when I had only just managed to get up in blizzard conditions. But today, all tiredness had gone, and I sped down in a straight line for the mother of all Highland bogs south of Meall a' Chail. After the dry summer, it was mostly soft running, but the deep bits were, I discovered early, to be avoided. At one point I leaped for a tuft of moss which simply toppled forward leaving me floundering full length in orange muck. How had I once crossed this in a wet spell?

I hit the path with plenty of time to spare but was feeling too high to ease off – anyway I should not be doing anything tomorrow I thought! As I breasted the last hill the dam came into sight and no van. I though it might somehow be hidden, but as I sped on I became increasingly sure that it was not there. I hit the road, almost literally, as my worst fears were confirmed. Apart from the wasted time (relay) and effort (me), I was incredibly thirsty and longing for a cup of tea.

A passing motorist witnessed my despair, and offered to drive me down the road to find the others. I am afraid she did not realise how far it was to them. She had to drop into a croft and cancel their afternoon's outing, whilst her small boy in the back kept asking, “Are we going to the dam today?” Selfishly I did not offer to get out, and we drove, frustratingly slowly down the glen.

We arrived at the mothership, just as the car was waiting to set off, waiting for Rob who was still not ready. The car had recently arrived from Loch Arkaig with the news of John's time, and suddenly Alwyn's suggestions that that they should have, got through.

I believe that it was the desire not to see me that finally got Rob away. I was too angry to wish to see him. The whole thing was so utterly unnecessary as they could have had the van parked at the dam all day. At this time Diana's meal time ritual held sway, and having drowsed through the morning, a leisurely late lunch had then taken place. As the van was fitted out with food this was totally unnecessary.

Peaks done    31       time taken    1 day 11 hours       peaks to go    246

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