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8A - BEINN A' BHEITHEIR

                  9.4 miles      1500 metres

Start                           Tuesday       18.13
Sgorrr Dhonuill                               19.24
Sgorr Dhearg                                   19.50
Finish                                                21.04

Time:    Estimated    2.29      Actual    2.51

Craig writes:

After an exciting drive with “Stirling” Ifor Powell I'm off up the forestry track through an area of desolate clear felling. Bulldozed tracks everywhere and it's difficult to know which one to take, they all push me toward the top of the glen slightly east of my objective Sgorr Dhonuill. Into the trees proper and eventually I pop out onto the open hillside on a narrow but definite track which goes up to the col east of my summit. The tops are lost in the mist and I strike straight up the steep hillside over surprisingly rough bouldery ground. Onto the shoulder and my path is improving, quite suddenly the summit appears.

Not much to say about this one, well not today anyway, it's no place to dally. One view of the inside of a cloud is much like any other, it's blowing very cold and distinctly damp. Away down to the col on the narrow rocky path, concentrating on my feet, a fall on these granite boulders would be painful. I break out of the cloud just before the col and am rewarded with a brief view. From what I can judge it must be a fine outlook on a better day.

The climb to Sgorr Dhearg is fairly uneventful with a distinct path to follow and little to look at other than my feet and the rocks, quartzite with a distinctly pinkish tinge now. The summit eventually arrives, my wristwatch altimeter having expected it some time earlier (the pressure having dropped considerably up here in the clouds,) I'm behind schedule. Briefing me before this leg Eddie has suggested that a direct descent from here is unpleasantly rocky so I double back west toward the col. Trying to force the pace now I eventually break out of the cloud and start to head more directly downhill.

Looking ahead trying to choose a good line my left leg suddenly disappears to above the knee as a thin covering of topsoil gives way to a hidden watercourse bed below. My leg may have come to a halt, the rest of the body however hasn't and there is a very distinct “breaking stick” like sound accompanied by instant searing pain.

“Shh.ii.tt, Shit, that hurts, Oh my God I've broken it.”

Having lain still for an eternal moment to let the pain subside I lift my leg out, the ankle joint is swelling up visibly before my eyes.The tears boil up, “I've really made a mess of it here.” Very foolishly I try to weight it and of course it immediately collapses. “Stupid prat,” I'm rewarded with further shooting pangs of pain. Must get it into some cold water.

I half slide on my backside, half hop down to a stream proper and in it goes.The initial pain of this action quickly gives way to relief but the ankle bone has all but disappeared. I can't believe it's come up so quickly. Anger wells up inside and I scream at the top of my voice at it all, why not, no-one will hear me up here at this time of day (8.00pm). I feel very sorry for myself.

Well there's nothing for it, I've got to get myself out of this mess and get to the changeover. Get up and get on with it, this is no time for self pity.The descent into the glen is a complete bastard, utter pain. It's a good thing that no one can hear my sordid utterances.

Finally I make it to the River Laroch and in I go, let's have a look at the map. What a strange sight I must be, stood in the river, water above my knees studying a map whilst cursing loudly. Well it's just up the hillside to the treeline just over half a kilometre with about 150m of climb then it's five and a half kilometres on easy tracks nearly all downhill to the changeover. Surely I can do that, I'm convincing myself, besides Eddie will be waiting on the next leg.

The cold water has done the trick and all I can feel now is a dull numbness. Dragging myself up the hillside the treeline on the crest of the hill seems to get no closer for a very long time. I arrive at the treeline spot on the path/ride line more by luck than judgement. It's downhill, well of sorts, try to create a rhythm. If my footfall isn't exactly flat, any slight deviation to the side is painfully rewarded. I try a bit more screaming and shouting it seems to get the adrenaline going, our bodies' natural painkiller.

I decide not to tell Eddie about my mishap at the changeover as he will only worry about it throughout his run. The track has improved and so has my running I seem to be managing pretty regular footfalls now. The short and normally easily runnable uphills however bring me back to reality as I'm reduced to a walk.

It's steady trotting now almost down to river level, must be getting near the changeover. There's the van, and with an almighty scream of greeting, E.D..D..I..E!! (which evidently wasn't heard,) I'm there. Eddie leaps from the van talking ten to the dozen as usual, I stuff the baton into an outside pocket of his rucksac as he asks. It pokes out and I'm sure he'll lose it, I manage to stuff it in a little further. He's away and suddenly it's all over.

Graeme is preparing to leave for his next run, I tell him about my little mishap. He stares horrified at the size of my ankle. Soon he's leaving on a bike, it looks like he's getting a night run taking over from Eddie who will return to the van. I go to wash in the river only to be forced back to the van by the thick clouds of biting midges, they have no sympathy for me.

I cook myself some dinner trying to ignore my ankle which seems to be stiffening up now. Having eaten myself, I prepare some food for Eddie's return and soon enough he arrives. Once his normal expansive and enthusiastic greeting is over I reveal my injury to him and for the second time this evening I am met with a total look of horror.

I'm a little disappointed with Eddie's initial reaction, he's obviously thinking about the situation. From the corner of my eye I realise he keeps having another look. I try to get him off the subject, plying him with food which he is normally only too glad to consume after a run but he won't be sidetracked entirely.

Finally he says it, “You can't possibly continue with that,” or words to that effect. Words I've been dreading. I begin to understand, I realise that it affects the status of the team, if I retire we would have to call on an 8th runner, the record attempt would be off.

I try to be optimistic, “It'll be alright tomorrow, I'll get some ice on it.”

Eddie's not convinced, his facial expression tells me that. He seems a little lost for words, that's unusual, there he's said it again, “... won't be able to carry on.”

I look up and he realises that his comment hurts me somewhat. He's implied defeat, retirement for me, (off to the knackers yard) I haven't even thought about it, it just hadn't entered into my head. As Eddie settles into the driver's seat of the van, starts up and begins to drive back to the mothership I'm left to think on my predicament.

Well there's no use worrying about it, it's done now. We will just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.

Peaks done    51      Hours elapsed    62      Peaks to do    226

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