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Not Letterewe at Midnight
Anna and I had missed the last few Midnight Walks (“you
were lucky!” – I can hear some survivors muttering) but we were determined to
join the fun this year. Letterewe is a favourite area and neither of us has
been along the side of Loch Maree to Letterewe House. We watched the west
coast forecasts in growing trepidation – would the weather be as miserable as
being predicted?
But, thanks to the timely intervention of Steve and Graeme,
we knew the walk was being switched to the east. As we assembled in the Atholl
on Friday evening, everyone seemed to know of the change – except Derek – but
then he was only the walk organiser! Glen Tilt, south to north was the new plan
promising better weather than the west, maybe even dry.
 Gordon delivered us speedily and safely to Old Blair at
2.30am and, without further ado, approximately 22 walkers set off up the Glen
Tilt road. In true Stocket fashion, the leaders were immediately averaging 5mph
while those at the rear were struggling to reach 2mph – a tradition well
maintained. This meant several regrouping stops throughout the night which
seemed to work well in the favourable conditions. As “black marker”, I never
did discover who were the leaders – they were always just out of sight – Glen
Tilt is fairly straight.
At the first food stop around 4am I could not find anything
to eat in my rucksack. Had I left my food on the kitchen table? Announcing
this possibilty to everyone meant that I ate well throughout the walk – many
thanks for all the offers of snacks – many more than I could accept. During
this same stop, Liz helpfully pointed out that by fidgetting on a tussock, I was
trampling the waist belt of my rucksack into some fresh sheep sh**. Onwards
then to a second relaxing stop beside the Bedford bridge where a gentle breeze
kept the midges down. Committee members seemed to sleep peacefully through most
of the comments made about them.
 Anna and I thought that the south to north route was more
scenic than the opposite direction even though walking northwards always feels
like going “uphill”. The crossing of the Geldie was a slippery affair. From
the apparent safety of the bank, I was busy watching the last of the party
across when I managed to fall backwards into the water. Only Alex appeared
concerned and he was too polite to say that the back of my rucksack was now
plastered in yellow-green slime.
By this time light rain had set in and was to continue to
the end of the walk. It was happily on our backs but it was in the faces of the
large number of walkers and bikers heading west who greeted us with “Good
Mornings”. Where did they think we had been all night? The rain brought out a
rash of plastic over-covers on rucksacks, some in discreet colours but bright
yellow on others. What would Ann Anderson and the fashion police of yesteryear
have said? In this politically correct age, there is an absence of the abuse
and outright derision which used to voiced about fashion failings.
By 12 noon, approximately 22 walkers (and perhaps the same
walkers) were back on the coach at Linn of Dee with the door firmly closed
against the rain and the midges. Derek alone showed enthusiasm for an immediate
BBQ down by the river. Gordon kept his head in his book; the tachograph said
that we were not moving anywhere until ten past one. Indecision set in. In the
hope of finding a decision, the coach set-off at ten past one and within two
miles the day was looking more cheerful prompting a bright mind to remember the
big lay-by just down the road and overlooking Linn of Quoich. It proved a
perfect spot with views up the Dee to Mar Lodge, an ever brightening sky over
the main Cairngorms and enough breeze to dry us out and flatten the midges. The
absence of genuine warmth meant that the lack of an ice-cream shop was not a
problem this year.
How many Stockets does it take to light a BBQ? What is
essential to light a BBQ? Both these questions were eventually answered (thanks
Michael) while jokes were shared amongst the famished onlookers. The high
standards of Stocket BBQ food were maintained (thanks Derek) – all appetites
were satisfied before the food and fires ran out.
All in all a good humoured outing which left Letterewe
still to come.
Alan Smail.
PS – my food was in my rucksack all the time – I had been
fooled by my state-of-the- art liner bag.
Another PS – the rucksack went in the washing machine.
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26/01/2008
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