PTC*

Jimmy was 69 this week.

Still kicks our arses at the welding (as seen earlier today in the photie above), still weilds the stilsons like Conner MacLeod with his katana. Christ, he even swears better than us.

I’m praying the genes have been passed on.

Is that it’s just not loud enough. This is though, and I’ve nearly finished restoring it. It’s an early 80’s JayDee Arrow, which is pretty much a replica of a 1958 Gibson Flying V. It was the first electric guitar I ever played when it was hanging in Grant’s Music on Byres Road in Glasgow (long closed) back in ‘84. But as a youngster I had no hope of affording a one-off hand made guitar.

20 years later I found the same guitar in a sorry state in a second hand store, beaten and bruised, non operational and going cheap with an unknown logo on the headstock. John Diggins may have made guitars for Tony Iommi of Black Sabbath an Mark KIng of Level 42, but everybody wants a brand name don’t they?

I’ve refinished it in nice antique natural which shows off the mahogany, replaced what hardwear and electrics were buggered and repaired what was saveable. I’ve just put strings on it and it sings a mighty song in the key of a nice low C#. A couple of gold plated nuts on the jack socket and switch and it’s done.

Indoors can be fun too. Alright!

I originally wrote this trip up for an OM feature. But as a good opportunity to save effort and look through old photies I thiugh I’d stick it on here as well, but with extra words and photies. Ah, memories…

I set off late on Wednesday morning, the weather was looking good. The weekend would be all full laybys and social interaction and once again earning money suddenly took a back seat.

I stopped in Pitlochry for supplies and had a look in Escape Route. It’s an independant store with bikes a priority and outdoor stuff coming up fast in their mirrors. Looks like it belongs either in Ambleside or the past. Good luck to them. I headed out onto the long dead-end road to Rannoch Station. It’s a beautiful drive through forest, lochside and then empty moorland littered with glacial boulders, scattered like the contents of the Scrabble letter bag after two old ladies fought over the ligitemacy of that triple word score and it had gotten nasty. I clocked the lovely wee village of Kinlochrannoch and its tearoom for the return leg. Such reconnaisance can make or break a mision.

I arrived at the end of the track I was looking for about mile or so from the end of the road at Rannoch Station in glorious sunshine. I parked up at the side of the road where there’s plenty of room for the motor and also for other folk to easily pull in beside you and ransack yout stuff. It didn’t worry me so much at this grid ref however. Off I went, cap on to shade my eyes and sleeves rolled up but with a winter sleeping bag in my pack (that sunshine wasn’t fooling me for a minute).

The track is easy going, well used by the estates wheels. It takes you away from the highway of the B846 pretty quickly as it skirts the West of the hills on it’s way to Loch Ossian, Spean Bridge, even Glen Nevis. There’s a network of tracks there that really need to walked and biked.

It gets slowly higher and the view over Rannoch Moor opens up. The visible distance is is quite outstanding, it took a train on the West Highland Line 15 minutes to pass through my field of vision from north to south. Oddly the train wasn’t intrusive, it’s tiny weeness added to the feeling of being away.

I was quite happy wandering along the track but the ridge of Carn Dearg was rising ever higher to my right so I had to start climbing. I headed for a cairn on a wee outcrop that isn’t on the map. It’s well before Corrour Old Lodge which was annoying as I wanted to have a shufty at it. Ach, next time. The ridge is wide and interesting, rocky with clear views all around. Plenty of places to camp as well, in case the summit was rubbish.

I got to the summit just before 2000hrs, pitched the tent about 20 feet from the rather fancy cairn, got my furniture admined, cooking kit ready for action and then swanned about on the top watching the sunset. I was right about the temperature as well, it was ‘king baltic as soon as the sun dipped out of sight.

Once I lost the light, I had dinner and then a wander in the dark, the hillsides for miles around lit up by grass fires. The grass fires didn’t play on my mind constantly, not at all. I didn’t once think of the large patches of scorched hillside I’d been avoiding on the way up. Anyway, I went to bed and did get to sleep. But I was woken up by a bright light that caused me some confusion, it’s 0330hrs. “It can’t be dawn yet “says I…Fire! Fire! No, it was the moon you dick. Like a 100watt bulb over the tent. At this point I noticed that my Titan kettle has frozen onto my cooking rock in the porch, so back to bed.

I got up again at 0600hrs to one of the most amazing sights I’d had in the hills. The sun wasn’t up but it was getting brighter all the time. From East to West was a sea of cloud, bubbling gently, soft waves lapping onto the hillside below me. The peaks stood sharply against the cloud most still flecked with a little snow. i was snapping away when the battery in the camera died. I kept on trying and got some more shots if I was quick, switch on-point-click, but most of the photies are courtesy of my phone. Praise be for such convenient consumer items.

The sun broke through and it knocked me back on my heels. The tops caught the sun first, Glen Coe, Ben Nevis, the Mamores and Black Mount glowing warm against the blue sky and thick blanket of cloud, a single shooting star drew a white streak cross the sky and faded in an instant. The colours changed and fluxed like the paint of a carefree decorater emptying out his nearly empty tins out of sight in a quiet layby. I’m still trying to bring my camera back to life as well mind. Crivvens the stress.

The cloud waves caught the rays of the sun, they woke up properly then and started flowing towards the East, mostly likely to where clouds have their morning cuppa. The waves flowed up hillsides and slipped back or vapourised on the ridges, plumes would shoot up and fall back down. The whole mass of white was moving, and it looked like it had weight and purpose, not the flimsy foamy uncommited nonsense of reality.

It was outstanding. I spent hours watching the silent movie unfold, I had breakfast, many cuppas and reluctantly broke camp. I climbed down to the boggy bealach and up onto Sgor Gaibhre, where it was still all wonderland, but the cloud was breaking up a little and a could see reflected light sparking through it from the surfaces of lochs and rivers. I meandered down into the corrie and followed the river out. The cloud disappeared, the sun was blazing and with with a spring in my step I found the landrover track again and headed back to the motor where I became all cotton shorts, sandals and sunglasses.

I drove to the end of the road and looked at the closed tearoom and a train biding its time at the platform. It’s a fine spot though and a few weeks later I was through on a train as we headed to Ft Bill to start our disasterous attempt on the WHW. Now there’s a story…

I’m fairly frowning down at my words this month in that wee photie. I must have been losing in the “Get your tent up first competition” when they took that one.

The words? This month’s is a strange one, I feels like it’s the best one I’ve done, but… I hit the points I wanted to and got the information out as neatly and as easily read as I could in 300 words. But. I’m just not getting across exactly what going lightweight means to me, and what it lets me do. I’m giving some pointers about the kit and hoping that folk like the look of it and then go and do the next bits. What I’d like folk to see is something that’s very accessible to everyone like that last trip I did up to Beinn Narnain. Leaving late, skipping up the hill with a tiny pack and spending a comfortable, well-fed and wonderful night on the summit. Being geographically close to the mountains helps me with this stuff of course, but the lightweight gear makes these excursions so much more possible.

If I could show folk that kind of thing, it might swing a few floating voters over to trail shoes and 30g/m² fabrics. Someone said to me recently “You should keep your mouth shut, folk out in the hills with tents?”. Yes. What’s the point of having good stuff if you don’t share it.

Lots to get through in this issue, I think it’s a good one. I liked Simon’s lightweight piece, he got it right about being comfortable. There’s no point in carrying 3kg and being all tears and snotters. He still needs to ditch them big boots of course. The wild camping stuff was great, happy faces in a tent. That’s the outdoors right there.

I always worry that when the Trail folks are talking about lightweight, the tone can be a bit guarded. Always if’s and but’s. The engineer in me says let folk take responsibility for their own actions and just supply them with the facts. Just the engineer? Ach, balls. All of me says that, there’s no progress without risk. Just stick in a disclaimer to keep the suits happy.

My arse. There is green visible through the window of the wee room where we’re having our tea breaks. It’s probably trees, it’s maybe some plastic sheeting over oil drums. It’s probably a good thing the window’s vandalised. It does lend an air of working in (not on) the film vesion of 1984 to our current contract though.

But, the whole squad is here, and it’s been a year since we were all on the same job together. It’ll be banter armageddon until the job is done, and that’ll be a life saver. 12 hours a day until we’re clear.

Aye, so nae ootdoors for another week or so. That’s good though, ah widnae want it to become habit.

Who am I kidding? As if.

I’d got as far as the carpark the previous winter. At 1400hrs I stood there in my kevlar boots and Alpiniste pack and I knew that I’d be coming back in the dark, across snow covered bog and through trees, all on my own and I just couldn’t be arsed. It was my own fault for fannying about that I was late of course. So I went to Ft Bill and wasted an hour or two there, visiting all the regular stops including the greatly missed West Coast Outdoor.

Later in the year, now armed with increasing light camping gear I headed up again. To get to the car park you drive along the Mile Dorcha (Gaelic for “These walls are very hairy”), which is a marvel. It’s a wee glen that never gets direct sunlight and there’s thick spongey moss covering everything in sight. At the end there’s the carpark next to the bridge where they tried to hang Liam Neeson. There’s a fine water fall as well, the Eas Chia-aig and you climb up beside it and into the forest to get on your way. It’s a lovely walk as you rise away from the water on forest trails. Joycee and I were here last year and explored the forest tracks a bit more, it’s a lovely spot. But I was heading for bog central on the other side of the forest. There’s three glens and plenty hills all draining into here, so it’s moist underfoot. It’s also quite enclosed, you can’t see very far, but feels quite remote. Especially as there’s nobody about but me.

The weather was iffy: cloudy, drizzle and bit of wind. Never a favourite combo, and despite me constantly looking for an obvious shortcut up Sron a Choire Ghairbh I soon found myself at the foot of the zigzags to the summit at the top of the Cam Bhealach. Slightly pissed off, I chucked my pack down and ran up into the cloud to get to the top. This took far too long and getting to the cairn was more of an excuse to turn round than the usual meager victory it represents. But on the way back the cloud thinned a little and I could see into Coire Glas which is rocky and wild looking. This brought a grin and by the time I got back to my pack the cloud was really breaking up and I could see the fine curved ridge of Meall Dubh ahead and happy times were here again.

I’m watching for camp sites by now, but it was still early and there was plenty of light, the clouds were higher and the rain was clinging onto them so I hit my usual “see what happens” mode and I soon enough was sitting on the summit of Meall na Teanga drinking my juice looking at Ft Bill in the distance without a care in the world. Knowing that you’re not getting any lower ’til morning and that you’ve got all your stuff right there with you puts a cozy on my teapot of joy even now. There is a very good chance that mountains are just an excuse for me to get the camping gear out and go and look at clouds an’ that. I shall consult a therapist and see what he or she says. A Rorschach test will probably have me saying “That’s a camping stove…Oh, that’s a flaring petrol stove…That’s an old Coleman Alpine…That’s a shredded Akto blowing in the wind…”.

There’s a nice wee ridge with an even wee-er scramble and then the trail cuts across the the ridge above the North facing coire’s of Coire Odhar Beag and Coire Odhar Mor. If it had have been windy, that’s where I would have been heading with the tent, down in there somewhere. It looks great, all boulders and tumbling water. It was getting darker as well so it was all getting a bit more atmospheric. I pitched on Meall Odhar and got down to the serious busiuness of cuppas and dinner. I could see the twinkling lights of FT Bill from the tent now, and it looked like it was a million miles away. All the obvious hills are in sight, but they were all smudged by the fading light, Nevis wasn’t making it’s presence felt for once. It usually looks as if it’s puffing its chest out so that its neighbours know who the local badass is. Aonach Beag might actually be stooping to avoid a confrontation there. Time will tell.

Ping! Somebody pulled the chain on the darkroom’s red light. Which didn’t make any sense so I stuck my head out of the tent and the rest of me followed. A beautiful sci-fi sky to the West. Another cuppa, warm jacket and hat and I sat on a rock for an hour or more watching it all. That stuff’s just better from up there, honest. It’s just my camera was (and still is because it’s the same one) pish.

It got very dark very suddenly, so I thew the main switch and I was out of commission until maybe 0600 where a silent eerie greyness had replaced the other weather. It might be like the bakers van, the new weather gets delivered first thing and yesterday’s empty weather tray gets picked up.

Breakfast, cuppas and away. I picked up the outward trail the edge of the forest in unexpected blazing sunshine. The trees were a relief of coolness in abundance. I was all pleasant thoughts and singing songs to myself as I arrived back at the motor. The usual final cuppa making was abandoned though when the midges spied me and scythed through the air like bucket of garvel emptied off the scaffolding on the sixth floor. I threw me an the kit inside and got the hell out of there.

It’s a nice drive back if you stay on the North side of the Caledonian Canal, takes you back to the familiar just after Neptunes Staircase. After that there is only one thing to consider, Nevisport Cafe (still in original guise remember) or Nevis Bakery?

It was for filming Rob Roy, not for being in the Phantom Menace. That hanging thing.

Blog of the Week: PTC

PTC is a lightweight gear enthusiast hailing from the bonny land of Scotland.  His blog has become a major inspiration for many people to go down the ‘ultra-lightweight’ route, and really challenge what they need to take with them on the hill.  This has earned Pete (as he is known to non forum users) a column in Trail Magazine, where he gives tips and tricks to allow you too, to go lightweight. His blog is filled with stories of his many backpacking trips, often in the wilds of Scotland.  Great stories and in depth gear reviews on products and brands that you may not have come across before. So if you have ever wondered what this lightweight thing is all about, or simply want to read some humorous and well written trip reports, check out the PTC Blog.

Just spotted that above on the Ultimate Outdoors website. I keep forgetting folk can see this bloody thing. It’s very nice indeed, and it’s also a clever way of getting reciprocal links to your webstore. But, anyone who stocks the new Haglöfs Ascent packs in summer and the LIM Ultimate pants with the full length yellow side zips at any time is forward thinking and deserves custom.

Anyway, I should be in the Cairngorms right now. But work intervened, and maybe that’s not a bad thing seeing who the weather has turned out. A bit pish. Can I now be arsed doing something else outdoorsy like a trail run by headtorch, or shall I eat tandoori delights and watch The Taking of Pelham 123 which I just got back from Craig?

I was almost going to say nothing about this and let all our imaginations wander looking at the photie. The Optimus Double Cup.

Racers use dangly cups to drink from burns and lochs on the hoof. And this is the king of dangly cups. Will I ever use it? I don’t care, I just want to have one.

The thing that had always stuck in my mind in the guidebooks is “boggy approach”. That had kind of put me off. There’s an element of it being a single peak too far from home to do in a day and not fall asleep at the wheel on the way home about it as well. Well once I’d taken my sleeping inner Munro bagger by his collar, smacked his face off of the steering wheel, thrown him from the moving vehicle and slid into the driving seat I realised that a single oot-of-the-road peak is an excuse for packing the tent. Again.

I left late (this should just be taken as read now so I can stop repeating myself) and didn’t start looking for a parking space at the dam in Loch Quoich until tea time. It was a glorious evening and I got my kit ready in sunshine and shades. A few walkers appeared back at their cars and asked where I’d been and if I’d had a nice day. “Not yet” I replied, and pointed to the pointy-ish summit of Gairich, “I’m just heading up there, is there room for a tent on the top?”.

Apparently not. Still, off I went happy enough with my plan of “I’ll see what happens when I get up there”. It’s a boggy approach and water was soon running out of the mesh of my shoes as I skirted the end of the loch. It was hot, I was comfy, I wisnae botherin’ ma arse. It’s not boggy for long and you’re soon onto a rough hardpacked trail that takes you to the edge of the forest where you cut up onto Druim na Geid Salaich for a nice saunter towards the summit slopes.

The sun was getting low, it nipped behind Gairich and the temperature dropped quite a bit. The scale changed as well, a wee pull up looked all dark and ominous suddenly. Application of a windshirt and Buff calmed the nerves though and I was soon at the point where the contour lines are awfy close together. The climb up to the summit is actually quite steep and airy. The views down into Glen Kingie are quite immediate  if you know what I mean and there’s a few moments of hand to rock here and there. There’s a few wee crags tumbling over the north side of the ridge as well and it’s all quite good fun, more so than I was expecting.

I got to the summit and the sun was now very low and it was bloody cold. I took some photies and took it all in. Knoydart, the Cluanie and Glen Shiel hills and the Cuillin all picked out in shades of orange. It was stunning. The joy never diminishes for me, I stand and watch the sun sink below the horizon like a caveman wondering what he’s done wrong and hoping it’ll be back, imprinting on his mind in case his life is lived out in darkness. The biggest difference between us is that I now had to put up the tent in the dark and he would go and draw nudey cave ladies by candlelight. Maybe not candles, those hairy torches with the long handles that always seem to be in egyptian tombs ready to be used in movies maybe. Or fireflies in a jar. They didn’t have jars either. Jam, they stuck the fireflies to a stick with jam and used that as a torch. Although if they didn’t have jars, what did they keep their jam in.

The tent went up easy, just behind the summit cairn where there’s plenty of room. I had dinner, a cuppa, a wander around in the dark. I saw a few cars heading into Kinloch Hourn and then silence. A clear sky, with chilled air and a light breeze. A had a book with me and read a bit, I was laughing at it though and it was keeping me a wake so I enforced a lights-out on myself and slept. With my socks under my arms to dry them out as I hadn’t brought spares…

It was a fine morning, I watched the sunrise with a hot cuppa sitting on the cairn. It’s odd, there’s a sublimnal change from early morning to “daytime”. I feel it internally and it always makes me start taking the tent down. A few photies and I was on my way down. I met some folks as I got near the forest edge, I did feel bad as they looked crestfallen at not being first on the hill. Oh, I nearly kept a straight face there when I said that. I love that bit really.

It’s a nice walk out and with time on my hands as it was only 1000hrs I could linger and take it all in. There’s so many bleached pine roots along the loch’s edge, pulled up from below the water by the unnatural action of this man made body of water. I love dams though and it’s a nice way to finsh, a bimble along mossy 1950’s concrete.

Back at the motor I met a man heading out with a camping pack and a dog. Happy and all excited, eager to get going. Good lad.

I was at Fast and Light’s HQ for lunch yesterday when these arrived (some months early), and while the kettle was being put on I wheeched one away for me.

The Prism 2.0 is an update to the Prism that Montane have had for a wee while now. But, it has a better cut, a better hood (with neat roll away-ness) and it’s warmer. It has 40g Primaloft in it this time (rather than the 25g “Yes, this is really Prism insulation” Primaloft of last time), with extra on the chest over the pockets where you can see the quilting. It’s a much better fit on me and feels more like a proper insulation piece than ma auld yin. The arms are just long enough but the wrists don’t ride up, the arm articulation is good. The outer fabric is Pertex Microlight which is great. Weight is low at exactly 400g for my size large.

It’s heartening to see something getting a revamp that improves it, rather than just giving it a new colour for the new season or making it cheaper to produce. The ingredients are all good, Pertex and Primaloft are to be trusted, so I’ll be happy taking this out to see what it’s all about. Actually, there’s a few very nice things coming from Montane for winter, including a killer hooded softshell.

Aye, summer will be over soon. Thank Jimmy.

We’re making plans for trips up north that’ll involve a little more oomph. One on the cards is a return to Knoydart, and that brought all this back. We did a quickie there last year to collect the check point from the AR World Champs that was attached to the trig point on Ladhar Beinn.

We got the boat in which was a hoot. We were running hours late getting there and the tide was well out, we had the conductor hanging over the front of the boat telling the driver left or right to miss the rocks. Once away from Kinloch Hourn and out into deeper water is was great fun and the sight of Ladhar Beinn as you turn into Barrisdale Bay is a total joy.

We made a break for it across the beach and up the hill, eventually setting up camp on a flat patch just off the summit of Stob a Chearcaill about 2100hrs or so. It was cloudy which was bloody annoying as the views from there are really rather fine. The next morning it was breakfast and away. That’s the way to do it, wake up at the good bit. The ridge is fantastic, even in the patchy cloud. The summit is an odd place, it deserves to be more significant somehow than a bump on a narrow ridge heading away from all the action. The return down Stob a Choire Odhar is the best bit on the hill I think and it’s where we finally dropped under the clouds. The sun came out as we crossed Coire Dhorrcail and it was shades-on all the way back to the motor. We stopped at the bunkhouse to use the facilities, fill the water bottles and sit on chairs while having a cuppa. There is an honesty box there for such things.

It’s a beautiful walk out, up and down by the lochside all the way through trees, crags and unfailing interest. It takes just over two hours and is a joy at every step.

Lots of wildlife as well, and all too soon you’re back on tarmac. The drive back to the main road though is another thing altogther, truly a test of everything I’ve ever learned on the Playstation.

I’m all about the new and the next most of the time, it’s nice to see some of this again.

I spent the day at the Haglöfs shed of wonder yesterday having a look at what’s coming in 2009. Lots of good stuff is the answer to that, the usual top end gear and also some killer technical kit that won’t burst the bank. Environmental concerns are being addressed and colours created that will stretch the imagination. But that’s getting ahead a little, we’ve got winter to get through first, and it’ll be here quicker than we expect as always.

New for this winter and part of the revamped lightweight and technical LIM (Less Is More) range are a range of insulated pieces. With Primaloft ONE 60g synthetic fill we’ve got the LIM Barrier Pullover, and with 800 fill goose down we have the LIM Down Vest, Jacket, Hood and the absolutely mental matching Down Pant. They all keep the faith with the charcoal outer and yellow detailing that gives the LIM Ozone and LIM45 that super sci-fi disco-tronic look.

In for test I’ve got the Barrier Pullover and Down Vest. This makes a cracking, warm year-round insulating system if you use them separately or together. I’ve used a synthetic filled top with a down vest over it many times on cold camps and you can get the best of both worlds, warmth and mobility in your tent, with low weight and small packsize. Stick a 100weight fleece in the mix and you’re pretty well sorted with a combination for everything.

The Pullover above is dead light at 265g for the large and it’s stripped of clutter having only a single chest pocket (that you can stuff it in to), a half zip and lycra bound hem and cuffs. The Primaloft fill will be warm and it’s very compressible, and the slim fit should also be warmer and more breathable than a boxy equivalent. It also means I’ll be able to layer it under a shell in winter if I need to. Arm movement is good with no hem shift which is handy as it’s not the longest ever at the back. The outer fabric is Performac which is the same as the Kaza windshirt I’ve been wearing for well over a year, and experience with that makes me quite happy there.

The Down Vest is a little fat friend. Two hand warmer pockets, lycra bound hem and armholes with a stitch through construction which curves at the sides, maximising down loft where it usuallly gets squashed under your arms. Loft is very good, but it compresses well so it’s good down in there, it’s not over-filled or full of loft insulation.

They’re due in the shops around September. Like the rest of the LIM gear, I’ve taken to them immediately. I like the simplicity and functionality. I’ll be putting them through their paces with the usual mix of sitting about on mountains and sleeping in them shortly and I’ll report back.