A Wild Vista

On more than one occasion, I’ve embarrassed myself my mislaying, forgetting, or otherwise losing track of some important item or other, resulting in unwanted stress, and potentially costly reparations. Driving off having left my walking boots behind in the car park at The Green Welly Shop (and yes, it’s been rebranded as “The Green Welly Stop” now) at Tyndrum is a particularly fine example.

My most recent absent mindedness (or just piss-poor planning if you prefer), put paid to what had the potential for a fine day in the hills. This was to be a solo effort — for reasons that will become apparent — and it was in seat 1A of the “seated sleeper” carriage on Scotrail’s Caledonian Sleeper service that I scribbled out the following route card at twenty-to-midnight, in preparation for the following day:

Route card

At around 9 the next morning, the train approached Corrour Halt. This is a request stop for the Sleeper, so I was paying close attention to the goings on in the guards’ carriage as we approached the stop.

I’d already told a guard I wanted to disembark here, but the train crew had changed twice since we’d left Edinburgh in the early hours, so I was by no means certain that this information was still with the people that mattered (namely the driver, and the guard). If it wasn’t for the fact that a friend on the same service had been inadvertently whisked straight through Corrour under exactly the same circumstances some years ago, I might have been a little more relaxed.

But things were a little more complicated than this. I’d also arranged for my large rucsac to stay on the train at Corrour. The guard had instructions to drop it off at the next station — Tulloch, about 10 miles north of Corrour — where it was to be picked up by the proprietor of Tulloch Station Lodge (my home for the weekend).

And it was into the lid of said large sac that I placed the aforementioned route card. I was to be walking by myself, with the rest of the group I was staying with not expected to arrive until the Friday evening or Saturday morning. Thus, I’d let the Lodge owner know that I’d be leaving a route card with him, giving me at least half a chance of being rescued if anything went badly wrong.

Everything went swimmingly. The train slowed, and stopped, at Corrour; the (new) guard was happy with the rucsac drop-off arrangements, and I now had a great day’s mountain walking ahead of me. But not before I’d refuelled at the Corrour Station House Restaurant and B & B with a full English breakfast.

Full of tea and sausages, I paid, made my way out to the porch, and began final preparations for the walk in alongside Loch Ossian. Which is a long-winded way of saying that I started digging around in my daysac for my waterproof. Which wasn’t there. Because it was in my big sac which was now (I hoped) waiting for me at Tulloch Station Lodge.

continue to part 2…