20 to 29 September - Scotland

(This is a long post, covering a week and a half in one go. I didn't have time to do a daily blog, as all the time that I wasn't out walking, I was writing recce reports for the TGOC-East Coordinators. I'm afraid I've not taken the trouble to add photos.) 

I'll start with a little catch-up:

It was 22 June that Erica broke. She took a brief diagnostic trip to the garage in early July, but they weren’t able to book her in for repair until 4 August. In the meantime, Bertie’s windscreen wipers broke, and we needed Bertie to be serviceable in order to go and get Erica’s high-pressure steering hose repaired once it had been removed, so instead of taking Erica to the garage on 4 August, we took Bertie.

They quickly established that the problem was with Bertie’s wiper motor (not his controller or a wiring fault), but couldn’t source a new motor. Two days later they’d still not had any joy, so we went and retrieved Bertie and delivered Erica.

I got on the case with Bertie and confirmed that his wiper motor is discontinued. I found a replacement part number (Bertie has a separate wiper control unit and wiper motor; the new part is combined), but couldn’t find a source for that either. However, I also read that there’s a common problem with the internal electrical contacts being fouled by a migration of grease, so I whipped the motor off, opened it up and the contacts were indeed covered in grease. Twenty minutes later we had perfectly functioning windscreen wipers again!

News wasn’t so good about Erica. We knew that the owner of the garage was off on holiday the day after we dropped Erica off, and that no-one would answer the phone in his absence. So, after a few days we drove over there. They hadn’t started on Erica. On 19^th August, with the owner back off holiday, we phoned to find they still hadn’t started – a combination of staff holidays and sickness. They assured us she would be on the ramp the following Monday (25^th August).

This was becoming rather inconvenient! Two months without a car, and two weeks of sitting at home in anticipation of a phone call to go and pick up the duff part to get it repaired.

“What if we asked them to delay starting on Erica until 1 September?” I said to Mick, “Then we could go up to Scotland for 10 days.”

Mick is working on a new sister event to the TGO Challenge, and we had intended to go and spend a month in Scotland recceing routes. As we no longer had a month spare, it was ten days now or nothing, so we grabbed the chance. The garage was very happy to postpone for another week (allowing all staff to return from holiday – it’s a little family business with just three mechanics), and by the end of the day we had Bertie packed. We were off first thing last Wednesday morning.

Wednesday 20 August - Travel

Where was Bertie? He spent the night in a little parking area in Glen Esk.

We seldom drive all the way to Scotland in one go, but wanting to make the most of our time up there, we did on this occasion. Goodness, it’s a long journey! Even more so when part of the M6 that you need to use is closed.

By the time we arrived evening was upon us, but we had positioned ourselves so we were all set for our first outing on Thursday morning.

Thursday 21 August – Glen Esk & North Water Bridge

Where was Bertie? He spent the night at Dovecot Caravan Park at North Water Bridge at a cost of £30 including electricity and good wifi.

Jumping out of bed after a gloriously quiet night, after breakfast we both set out in the direction of Hill of Turret. At the turn for Stobie Hillock, I peeled off to take a foray into upper Glen Dye, whilst Mick went to have a look at something a little further up the track. By the time I hauled myself back out of Glen Dye and onto the Hill of Turret track, Mick was already back at Bertie. Technically, I had now done what I needed to do in this area, but I’d decided it would be remiss to be so close to Mount Battock, an unbagged Marilyn, and not visit its summit.

There was a bit of moisture in the air on the final ascent and it was quite cool in the wind. I had my jacket on and would have donned gloves if I’d had any with me.

I’d plotted myself a circular route to get back to Bertie, but I also wanted to do at least one more recce that afternoon, so went for the quickest option: retracing my steps (albeit without the foray into Glen Dye).

Back at Bertie and after lunch, down the glen we went, with me keeping my fingers crossed that we could find somewhere to park Bertie somewhere near the bridge just N of the Rocks of Solitude, as otherwise I was going to have to cycle up to the road end on the other side of the river from Gannochy. Happily we found a pull-in barely big enough for Bertie, and off I trotted, across the bridge and up tracks to the Mooran Burn. A trog along the burn, a bash through bracken, an bit of cow herding and a few more tracks took me back to Bertie within an hour and a half.

I had wondered whether I would have the energy and enthusiasm for one last 4km outing in the day, and I certainly could have summoned the energy. However, given the choice between that or sitting and watching cricket for the rest of the day, that’s what we chose.

It was quiet at the campsite at North Water Bridge, with just us and one caravan. It’s a good campsite with all facilities, and even though Scottish school holidays were over, it was surprising there weren’t more people there. Perhaps they should actually advertise their existence?

Friday 22 August – Edzell, Brechin & Kinnaird Park

Where was Bertie? He spent the night in a track entrance in Montreathmont Forest.

Mick had a scheduled phone call on Friday morning, so rather than us recceing one bank of the River North Esk each, from Gannochy to Edzell, Mick dropped me just N of Edzell Woods (not to be confused with Edzell Wood, on the other side of the river) before driving around to Edzell, and I set out on foot to meet him there.

I was rather glad about the change of plan, as if we’d stuck with Plan A I would have only walked the east bank, and it turned out that the west bank is far nicer and more interesting.

I arrived in Edzell to find Mick sitting on a bench in the park, having been unable to find enough of a phone signal in Bertie. Due to that lack of signal, and with logistical plans needing to be made (this trip being so last minute, we had limited time to plan before leaving), we relocated to a car park in Brechin for lunch.

Dropping me at the west lodge entrance to Kinnaird Park in the afternoon, Mick retreated back to that car park, whilst I took a lovely (although partially thwarted, due to a ‘biosecurity hazard’) outing through the park. If only I’d known about the riverside track back in May when I passed this way!

Picking me up from the north entrance it was back to the Brechin car park again, to watch the women’s cricket.

Our relocation to Montreathmont Forest didn’t go to plan when we found an HGV completely filling the track end I’d scoped out (on StreetView) for our overnight stop. It looked like he was just taking a break there, but whilst waiting for him to vacate, we needed somewhere else to park. As it turned out, we opted to stay in the alternative that I found, and we had a perfectly quiet night there, with almost no passing traffic.

Saturday 23 August – Montreathmont, Brechin & the Caterthuns

Where was Bertie? He spent the night at the parking area between the two Caterthuns.

We had a number of paths in Montreathmont Forest to check out, so we took a route each, mine 12km, Mick’s 7km (but he also needed to drop me off and pick me up from different sides of the forest). It was an ‘interesting’ morning, proving that whilst the intention behind the Core Paths network was good, the paths themselves are not always particularly feasible.

I had realised on Friday night that it had been careless to have spent so much time the previous day in Brechin and yet not go shopping, as Bertie’s fridge was starting to get depleted in some departments. Thus with our Montreathmont outings behind us, back to Brechin (barely out of our way) we went. With Bertie’s fridge looking a bit healthier, back to the previous day’s car park we went, for two reasons: 1) we knew we had a phone signal there to watch the cricket; and 2) we didn’t want to arrive at the Caterthuns until the day visitors had left.

After four visits in two days, this was Bertie’s final stay in that car park.

A perfectly quiet night was had in the elevated position of the Caterthuns car park, which we had to ourselves from about 7pm.

Sunday & Monday, 23-24 August - Fern

Where was Bertie? He spent two nights at a little campsite in Fern at a cost of £20 per night including electricity.

The plan: I would set out from the Caterthuns for a route over Mowat’s Seat and an out-and-back to Mount Sned, before heading down via Afflochie to the campsite in Fern, where Mick would meet me. On Monday I would head out on the bike and recce the Afflochie ‘Old Road’ route.

It was a superb weather day and I was having an excellent time having these hills all to myself (30k, 5.5hrs, and not a single other person seen). It was as I was between Mt Sned and Afflochie that it occurred to me that, as I would be passing the end of the Afflochie Old Road (which is only a road at its ends, in between there is some track and a section where even the track no longer exists), it would be far more efficient to add a few km to my outing than to get the bike out and cycling out from the campsite on Monday. Unfortunately, I conveyed this news to Mick a few minutes after he’d phoned the campsite to ask if it was okay if he arrived at 1pm, rather than 3pm, based on me being ahead of schedule – and I now wanted him to pick me up on his way to the campsite.

The Afflochie Old Road took me about an hour longer than anticipated. None of the terrain was hard going, but some of it was mightily steep and I was feeling the tiredness of the last few days’ efforts.

Having completed Monday’s recce on Sunday, and having already booked into the campsite for two nights, that gave me a whole day off on the Monday. We could have driven out to look at something else on the list, but I felt due a rest day. The biggest activity of the day was a fifteen minute stroll around the campsite’s woodland, before scurrying back to Bertie to watch yet more cricket.

I’d like to say that perfectly quiet nights were had, but the campsite has peafowl and they operate as effective early morning alarm clocks!

Tuesday 26 August – Glen Clova

Where was Bertie? He spent the night in the car park of the Glen Clova Hotel.

We had a few things to look at in Glen Clova, so Mick dropped me off where the B road splits, before he continued on to the car park opposite the Glen Clova hotel. From there he did a route up to the Glen Doll visitor centre and back.

Meanwhile, I yomped my way up to Sneck of Corinch to make my way along the ridge and pick up the Ministers’ Path. I tried, and failed, to save a sheep on my way (I managed to haul it back to its feet, but it must have been stuck on its back and struggling for too long and it just fell back over; I left it in a position such that, if it regained some strength, it should have been able to get back up, but I suspect that it wasn’t long for this world by then). The Ministers’ Path has, as expected, suffered from storm damage, as a result of which I spent quite a bit of time in and around the forest finding the easiest way through (and, incidentally, brushing ticks off my clothes every few paces).

Further down the hill I met a group of four old geezers, who had been trying and failing to find the very path I had just walked. Having told them where to find it, and what I’d found there, I left them looking at their map, deciding what to do. A short distance further on were the remaining three members of their group, who also stopped me. I repeated the news of the state of the path (certainly a few of these chaps didn’t look like they would be well suited to clambering over and limboing under fallen trees), and we had a good old chat.

“Do you think our best bet is to go back to the Glen Clova Hotel and spend the afternoon drinking G&T?” one of them asked. How could I give an answer that would disappoint in the face of such a leading question?

I arrived back at Bertie just a few minutes before Ali & Adrian pulled into the car park and joined us for lunch. They were just about to head off for their own afternoon walk as rain started coming down. After a delay, signs of brightness were seen and off they went. We headed into the shower, to make ourselves presentable for dinner at the hotel.

As Ali & Adrian were staying in the hotel, they’d asked if we could overnight in the car park, but the request was denied (as it was ten years ago, when Mick stayed there and I happened to be in the glen on the same night). However, somehow, between courses, Adrian managed to sweet talk the night manager and he agreed that he would fail to notice us if we stayed put. That was most convenient for us.

Wednesday 27 August – Glen Clova

Where was Bertie? He spent the night in a parking area at Cullow.

We vacated the Glen Clova Hotel car park before breakfast, moving back across the road to the council car park (which has an unlawful ‘no overnight stays; no tents’ sign). We discovered on the way that, once again, Bertie no longer had windscreen wipers. Darn it!

Putting that issue to one side (and after checking the weather forecast to ensure we could leave the glen in the dry in a few hours’ time), I headed out for a foray up to the bealach east of Cairn Inks. It wasn’t an ideal day for that outing, as it involved me needing to look down into the next glen, which turned out not to be possible due to low cloud. I ended up being much longer than anticipated as rather than just looking down, I dropped down a distance, so at the time I had expected to be back at Bertie, I hadn’t even turned back towards him.

Once back, down to Cullow we drove, and with the weather still dry I wasted no time in removing Bertie’s wiper motor again. It was only once I had it on the worksurface in Bertie that I discovered that I didn’t have a PZ2 screwdriver with me. There were six screws that I needed to remove, and five I was able to release with a PH2, but the last one wouldn’t budge and I didn’t want to rip its head.

With there being no window of clear weather to drive without wipers for the next week, and needing to be home by Sunday, we needed a solution. So, I called a garage in Forfar who agreed that we could pop by on Thursday afternoon and they’d take a look at whether they could get that screw out.

With all the faffing, it was 3pm by the time I headed out for my next recce and having established that the Doulin Haugh bridge was all present and correct, as well as the paths leading to it (just about; a landslip hadn’t taken out the whole width of the path), my steps were retraced back to Bertie.

Another good night, disturbed only by the occasional bit of rain, although nowhere near as much as forecast.  

Thursday 28 August – Forfar & Auchlishie

Where was Bertie? He spent the night at a small (maybe pop-up) campsite at Auchlishie, N of Kirriemuir, at a cost of £15. We declined electricity which was available for £5, and the use of the shower which was also £5 (we think for both of us, but didn’t ask).

After the night’s rain, I was soon wet-footed as I set out from our night stop to look at a couple of things (including the existence of another bridge). I swear that every grass seedhead had a whole litre of water clinging to it, that transferred itself onto my socks, shoes and leggings as I brushed past.

I was more successful today in my sheep rescuing efforts. A sheep scrape had been created below some tree roots, and a ewe had managed to get marooned, with back legs in one hole through the roots and front legs through another. Sheep are surprisingly heavy animals, but I managed to lift her back legs out, whereupon she promptly sat down rather than running off. Not another ‘just too late, too exhausted’ rescue attempt? Happily not, as on my way back, as I approached, she got up and ran away, without so much as a limp.

So wet were my legs and feet, that I didn’t trouble myself to detour to the bridge on the way back, opting instead to wade the river. I then found myself unenthused to reascend the second hillside to descend back to Bertie, so instead headed straight along the road to Dykehead, from where I summoned my chariot.

Said chariot then continued onwards to the garage in Forfar, where they easily released the stuck screw on Bertie’s wiper motor, but there was no obvious problem inside. They sent us down the road (fortunately not far, as it was now raining) to an auto-electrician. After about an hour in the Tesco car park next door, they summoned us back with the news that they’d achieve wiper motor success. Their diagnosis was a corroded earth connection on the back, which would make sense with the symptoms and the temporary resurrection when I cleaned it out. Equally, it could still be a dry solder joint*. For the time being, we were just happy, given the weather forecast, that both garages had been so amenable and that we had windscreen wipers again. Another stint was had in Tesco’s car park whilst I worked out where we could spend the night (back to Cullow would have been the answer, had Prosen Bridge not been closed, leading to a significant diversion between Cullow and Kirriemuir). We settled on a campsite that was within easy reach of Friday’s outing, booked it online and headed on over – on the way passing place after place where we could have parked for free.

We arrived at the campsite to find the most ridiculously sloping field, and not all on one plane – it was a small area covered in a sea of undulations. We could identify just one level spot and it was underneath a large family tent. Settling for the next most level spot we could see, it was a surprise when Bertie’s ramps proved to be big enough to level us out. The next vehicle to arrive was a French car with a rooftop tent, and we could almost see the despair on their faces as they tried spot after spot before settling on the least bad option. The biggest annoyance was that there was a hard-standing area nearby that was perfectly level enough. With all that said, given that we did get level, the facilities were worth the money.

(*Talking of: Bertie also has a dry solder joint or break in a wire on the micro switch on his kitchen tap. It works fine in warm weather or if Bertie is parked nose down, but it’s hit and miss if it’s cold or he’s parked nose up).

Friday 29 August – Backwater Reservoir & Perth

Where was Bertie? He spent the night at Broxden Park & Ride in Perth

It was 6km from the campsite to the track from where I was to set out on my final recce of the trip, and I could have walked or cycled it… or I could prevail on Mick to drive me to my start point. The problem was that I’d not been able to find anywhere nearby suitable for Bertie to park whilst waiting for me. After a bit more thought, I came upon the answer: I would do a linear route, including a bonus Marilyn with Mick meeting me at Backwater Reservoir.

Overall it was a fine outing, and it turned out to be the final one of the trip, as I decided the hill I had pencilled in for the afternoon couldn’t sensibly be approached from the Backwater side. With other recces on the list being too great a drive away given that we only had another half a day available, after a late lunch we drove the first leg of our journey home, to Perth Park & Ride.

We’ve never seen so many motorhomes there, although it didn’t take us long to realise that the six French vans were travelling together. They went off early in two groups of three on Saturday morning, and we weren’t far behind them.

We hadn’t intended to go the whole way home, as I had a long run due on Sunday, so I’d found a campsite from which I could run from Bertie’s door. However, as the day went on I decided that I would benefit from a rest day, so home is where we went.

(Monday update: Erica was dismantled over the weekend. As I type, her high pressure hose is with a repairer.)