Now this might strike fear into many, panic even, but for me it was an unexpected joy and a timely reminder. Quo are one thing in the minds of the general population and something else altogether in reality. At least they were until the late 70′s and even then it was only on vinyl it started to go all wrong. 
On 1970′s Ma Kelly’s Greasy Spoon they suddenly sounded like blues band in the Canned Heat mold after ditching the whiny psychedelic stuff, but a blues band with so much else going on. The sound developed through a brilliant run of albums, Dog of Two Head, Piledriver, Hello!, Quo, On the Level and Blue for You, with the brilliant Live! recorded at the Glasgow Apollo looking like it was the rock they tripped over as the albums after that, while having some brilliant songs including some of my favourites, were lighter, both in production and songwriting depth.

Unfairly known just for the simple boogie tunes Quo had a huge variety of styles on those early albums, the different songwriters going in all directions to make every album an amazingly cohesive ecletic mix of music including some surprisingly powerful stuff, and I’m used to the heavier side of metal coming at me 24/7. In fact, Caroline Live at the NEC with a single Fender Telecaster thrashing out the intro played loud rocks me back on my heels more than any blast beating detuned black metal band ever will. Sometimes it’s not about speed or how gnarly you sound, it’s the attitude and you can’t manufacture that. Something I found out when I saw Quo a few times after they came back from their ’84 retirement. It just wasn’t the same with hired hands filling out the band and a distracted looking Rossi.
But, ’84 was still a good time to be a Quo fan with two nights on the trot at the Glasgow Apollo (that’s my tickets sellotaped into my programme above with the t-shirts I bought on the first night – I love my folks’ attic) where they were just amazing. Oh, I’d love to go back and appreciate what I was seeing better with my older eyes and ears.

Anyway, when I came back from Glenelg I was straight onto Amazon and I plugged the gaps in my reissue CD collection so I now have all the  single B-sides and the like. I’m in heaven and Holly likes them too, Joycee doesn’t but hell, you can’t have it all.
I’ve played tracks from the first few albums to unsuspecting listeners and they think it’s current music from skinny trousered blokes with sideways fringes.  Ha.
Status Quo rock. Always have, always will.

And, you four from the 70′s, get it together while you all still can.

On the weekend of 18th/19th of February I’m hosting (in the manner of Bruce Forsyth) a weekend of mountains, camping and gear and I want you to come and join in.
The meet will take place in the Southern Highlands, somewhere in the Arrochar Alps or very near by making it as accessible as we can for folk travelling from down south.
The plan, if the weather plays ball, is for folks to grab some tents and kit, climb a hill and space ourselves out along a ridge and see how we get on with the gear. Not very sociable you say, that’s right, and that’s why we’ll have an expedition-sized mothership tent pitched in the middle where we can hang out and shoot the breeze. Or shoot at the breeze as is entirely likely at 3000ft.

For test there will be:
Tents, sleeping bags and sleeping mats from Big Agnes
Rucksacks and accessories from Granite Gear
Lighting from Princeton Tec
Food from Honey Stinger
Trekking and Nordic poles from Leki
Clothing from X Bionic
Clothing from Montura, which I just saw last week and nobody in the UK has tested yet.
Footwear from Hi-Tec
Socks from Wigwam
Sports shades from Polaroid Eyewear

I’m talking to other folk as well, so this list is a work in progress which I’ll update as we go.
Familiar faces Ollie from 9point9 and John from Ardblair will be joining us to help with the kit, answer questions and get a break from selling kit and play with it instead.

Important new bits:

It’s looking like we’re going to have more folk along than we first though which is magic, glad you folks are wanting to join in. We should still have enough kit for everybody to get something and on that note here’s a couple of points:
Bring all your own regular kit for a camp, just in case. If there’s something you don’t have that’s worrying as we’re doing a high camp in the cold, tell me in advance so I know you’ll get it.
Winter gear. It’s looking snowy, bring the kit for it. Same as above, if you’re missing gear, let me know so I’ll have it ready.
I have a lot of spare kit that I can bring, but it’s not unlimited, don’t leave it to the last minute to flag something up to give me a chance to sort something out.
I know that’s all similar points above, but I don’t want any last minute gear screw ups that might spoil someone’s fun.

Now, one thing I’d been thinking about was the photies, of which I dare say there will be many. But, I think it’s worth trying to get all the tents all lit up together at night. What would that look like? A Christmas tree no doubt. Brilliant.

I’m going to try and put together a group email, I’ll keep you posted. Also, I’ll be needing clothing sizes and foot sizes asap.

Old stuff again:

Price of admission? There’s no such thing as a free lunch, so what we’ll be needing is reviews. If you’ve got a blog, you know what to do and this is a good chance to get some exclusives. If you’ve not got a blog or even a camera, no problem, we’ll get something together and we’ll post in on here.

It’ll be a blast, hanging around on the tops with cuppas and banter. I dare say some shot of tents with lights inside them will be taken?

If you fancy it, post a comment below and that’s where we’ll keep the admin and logistics going, I’ll keep this page handy. Once we’re closer to the day we’ll do phone numbers and whatnot.
Looking forward to seeing you and hearing your accent, folk don’t have accents on the internet.

As much as it pains me, I’ll do some terms and conditions.
Mountaineering is dangerous, mountains are dangerous just on their own, mountains in trainers is really dangerous.
Participation is at your own risk, this is an informal meet with fringe benefits, not an all-inclusive event with a back up team.
If you’re worried about your level of experience, fitness or skills for the trip, email me and we’ll see what’s up.
We’re on our own, it’s like a regular hill trip, no magic wand so we have to be on the ball.
The tone is flippant but the message is serious, let’s be careful out there.

Haglöfs Hebbe

The Hebbe is the fanciest of the group with a mix of fabrics and a more complicated construction. It also has a bobble on it.
The outer is a mix of merino and acrylic with quite an open weave (knit?) which gives it a lot of stretch. This means that it has a nice neat fit without any compression being applied to your napper and the fabric should be trapping a bit of extra air in there for some extra heat retention as well. It is a warm beanie as it has a double skin, the black inner you can see in the photie is a light microfleece lining, described as Schoeller Polycolon on the Haglöfs, something got lost in the translation there I think.
It’s warm, very comfy and stays put on your head. It also dries very quickly whether it’s getting sweated up from my forehead of dealing with a shower from above. At 74g it goes unnoticed in my pack and it squashes down into any pocket.
You could say that the merino should be on the inside, but as the fabric draws sweat from the inside where it evaporates in the merino layer leaving it’s stinky residue, maybe the merino is better placed there with it’s stink destroying qualities? I whined about Helly Hansen’s Lifa tops with the merino on the outside, but maybe I did get that all wrong after all. Must go and rummage for it in the attic…
If you were wondering about the colour, sorry it’s not coming out until next winter, but the ones in the shops right now are just the same otherwise.

Jacaranda Fleece Beanie

I’ve had a Jacaranda Fleece Ski Hat on here before and the Beanie is very similar, the headband is just trimmed back to give you a regular beanie shape.
The beanie has a four-panel top with a double-fabric cuff and is cut from a fleece fabric that is wonderfully old-school. It’s a bit like Polartec 200 crossed with Karisma, the wind resistant stuff used by Mountain Equipment if their excellent  hooded fleece back in the day. The construction is neat and simple and most importantly, done here in the UK.
The fit is good on my big head, just right with no squashing of ears at all despite the double fabric. There’s a good bit of stretch in the fabric and stitching too, so even after it was accidentally tumble-dried (not guilty) the beanie bounced back to normal pretty quick.
It’s a properly warm beanie and pulls down over my ears and the back of my neck if I feel the need, it makes it a great choice for camp as cozy is its middle name. The fabric isn’t cutting edge but it still deals with moisture well enough and at 50g the beanie just disappears into a pack lid or pocket until you need it.
There’s a huge colour choice available too as well as size options, so you don’t have to have purple if you want one to wear around town too.

Wild Stripes Adult Beanie Hat

I had Wild Stripes on here last year and testing the baselayers (kids baselayer review coming next week) really helped bring me around the the view that synthetic had caught back up with merino when it came to baselayer performance. When the matching beanie turned up last summer it instantly became my go-to beanie, relegating my grey Smartwool training beanie which had been on every trip since I’d got it. The two are very similar in that the construction is a double thickness baselayer-weight fabric, Wild Stripes using a soft and stretchy polypropylene. The fit is semi-slouch, it’s neat enough to be fine on the hills but loose enough to look crumpled on a students head if needs be. The fabric is soft and comfortable and the moisture management is second to none which, along with it’s lighter fabric weight, makes the beanie a perfect choice for wearing on the move as you don’t overheat to easily with less insulation and sweat gets dealt with efficiently. As much as I hate these daft labels on things, it’s an “active” beanie. But, because of the fit and the looks of it, it’s also a good general use beanie too. Neat construction, an unnoticable 40g and you can wash it at 90°C.

Conclusion

And the winner is… Don’t be daft, despite sporting the name of beanie these are all very different bits of kit.
The Haglöfs Hebbe is warm, neat fitting and very comfy, the bobble makes me smile but it’s some quick scissor work away from being a memory if you chose. It has great fabrics and funky looks. I fear it’s destined for aprés ski and winter high street wear due to its cost and those good looks which is a shame as it’s a proper mountain beanie at its core and works brilliantly.
The Jacaranda Beanie is just what I’d expected after using the ski hats, all the warmth I need on a winter camp or hillwalk and no nonsense performance through numerous wash and wear cycles. Made in the UK, more colours than you can count and it’s what I’m wearing when I’m sleeping on frozen ground.
The Wild Stripes Beanie is an all-rounder in a fantastic fabric. The lighter weight makes it a summer winner at camp and great for winter on-the -move. I don’t feel at all conspicuous wearing it either, sometimes that’s a good thing,even for me .

I can recommend all three of these and numerous others, Powerstretch beanies are brilliant for example. Beanies are the winners, add a Buff or a hood and you’ve got a system that’s adapatable to anything.
Techno mountain hats? Pah!

PS, that pink sky isn’t a fault in the photie, that’s the closest I got to a sunset last Monday when the cloud went pink for five minutes before dark. Harrumph.

I said to Holly that the next time I was heading down to the beach to catch the sunset she could come along, so when it was looking like it might be nice  about 4 today on went her boots and furry hat as we rushed down to the icy harbour.
It was nice, the sun was a fine deep yellow, but with no clouds to burn it’s flames just fizzled out. Much better was the exploring, Holly peered hard into the little rock pools to steal a glimpse of the crabs that I’d assured her were there (they are sometimes, just not today) but when that came to nothing, as did the search for larger creatures at the waters edge, including variously an octopus and an otter she decided to just round around in circles in the muddy sand. “I’m making dinosaur footprints” she explained “And the people will think it was a Terrodaktol!”

It was 8am when the alarm went off and I really wasn’t ready for it. I’d had the best two hours sleep of the whole night leading up to that point and I was reluctant to let it go.
But it was bright outside, and there was no hiding from it, Ford don’t fit their estates with curtains. It meant that the 18 wheelers that passed in the night lit my ceiling up with their gantry-mounted beams and woke me up, the car headlights were too low for my lofty hideaway on the old road through Glen Shiel and it looks like I went unnoticed as well. I’ll remember that spot for the next time. Should I ever have a mental breakdown and decide to sleep in the car again.

It was a bit wild outside, sleety windy stuff, and while I was warm and comfy enough I was shoeless and trouserless in the back of the motor and in need of breakfast. I sorted myself and hopped into the driving seat. No way I was brewing up here, so I headed into the glen for a bit of shelter.
It cleared up as I hit the road and I pulled in just before the road swings left at an old bridge with the long lazy waterfall that starts under it. I set up the stove and paced about the layby as it warmed the water way too slowly for my grumbling tummy.
The last time I was here on foot was after I’d finished the South Glen Shiel Ridge, I hit the road in darkness just a few feet away from here and trod the miles back to the motor at the Cluanie Inn. Never again. Probably.

A cuppa, porridge, a bit of colour in the sky and things were soon looking up. They were soon driving up too and I stopped at the viewpoint carpark on the 1100ft  Mam Ratagan to watch the cloud move in again and cover over the familiar sights of the hills around Morvich.
I have so many memories of this area, the hills and the people I’ve climbed them with over the years. There’s laughter and tears with promises and regrets in every visit recalled, but there’s still excitement when I’m burning up the miles up to get here. I love it here, it’ll always be special.

Snow was falling on the pass and it was lying on the road. I was suddenly very aware that I didn’t have snow tyres anymore and took it calmly despite a few flashes of sunshine on pure white hillside on the south side of the pass that kept my eyes off the road ahead.
The descent to Glenelg takes you further away from the regular routes than the short distance might suggest. The road goes to a dead end at each branch, although in summer you can escape to Skye on the ferry (which is recommended by the way, the ferry is great and the drive across the island is a joy), and the whole place feels gently overlooked.

The Glenelg Brochs are fantastic examples of these Iron Age structures. They’re part of why I was here (see Trail in a couple of months) and I didn’t rush my long overdue return visits to all three on my way into the hills.
Dun Telve above is the best presented for visitors, it’s on the flat and is easy to explore. The side away from the camera is missing, showing the construction very well, not unlike Dun Troddan below, which although a little rougher and on much steeper, more defensible ground has more detail left to enjoy such as the internal staircase.
It’s fascinating stuff and any visit is full of unanswered questions and wild imagining to fill the gaps. Did they have roofs? Of course they did, we’d put a roof on it wouldn’t we? So would they then, they were Iron Aged not daft.

The road comes to an end at the farm just after this lovely tree, matched only in its picturesque qualities by the welcoming sign below.
Don’t have a problem with the sign or its sentiment, but how many dogless visitors have had the fear put into them, got back in their car and went back they way they came from without spending any money on lunch etc in Glenelg? Everything has unforeseen consequences.

There’s a low chambered cairn on the way but my last must-see was Dun Grugaig (above inside the ringed walls, and from outside below), the last of the brochs. It’s in a ruinous and unexcavated state and is all the more atmospheric for it. It’s crumbling corridors and steps visible but unaccessible.
It sits on a crag with just a grassy shelf leading towards it, while behind it, its wall grafts into a 100ft drop to the river holding no danger of surprise attack.
I wonder if the brochs spread up the glen as times grew more dangerous and more security was needed or they spread down to the waters edge as times felt safer and access to fishing and livestock was the main priority?
History, half facts and half opinion.

It was a bit of a trek down the landrover track while the cloud was moving, shifting and breaking with some heavy showers passing over me. I had no idea what to expect from the ascent, I wanted nice, but time was getting on and the forecast afternoon clear-up wasn’t looking likely.
All this fled to the back of the breadbin when I came across the bridge. Four logs nailed together with a knee-height handrail. It’s like a scale model of a real bridge that’s been dropped over the gorge.
I’m not good on this stuff and it creaked, bounced and made me feel like a 6 year old on a ghost train. I looked forward to the unavoidable return visit all afternoon.

Once up onto the ridge (it’s between Gleann Beag and Beinn Sgritheal and I can’t say never mind spell it, for the purposes of this internet pamphlet I’ll be refering to it by its component parts such as ridge, summit, slope etc) it was all drama. I had views all around to endless heathery slopes capped with snow which in turn crashed into cloud as water roared in the glens in fast flowing burns and waterfalls.
Perfect Highlands, my heart soared to be here.

Skye was close by and was my baromoter for the day, whatever weather was brushing the tops was mine a few minutes later. The sunshine and patches of blue widened my grin got my legs going towards a place where a sit down and a snack might have been found otherwise. I felt like I had to earn the right to get, I don’t know, the view, the moment? The moment that you wanted but didn’t know it ’til you’ve had it. I just wanted to keep moving, it was all changing around me and I wanted to be part of it. When the cloud enveloped me and the wind blown snow started to spatter and coat me I just laughed away inside my hood.
Dressing up to go out and play.

I gained more height and the clouds split, tumbled and rolled away, the shades of grey shifted to blues and silver and I stood and watched it. This was my moment, and as these things go, it was a good one.

It’s a cracking wee hill, the ridge had some littler moments waiting for me as I was route finding on virgin snow which was fun. I had expected to be a little nervous off the beaten track on my own like this, but it was pure enjoyment. I felt alright.

The hill gives you little gifts one after the other, the ridge crumbles onto a summit plateau which is shaped like a crown, a lochan-filled dish ringed with rock. A little wonderland waiting for folk willing to step away from the regular destinations.
But, it was fading in front of my eyes, the light spluttered past Beinn Sgritheall towards me and then I was inside the weather again. Cold, hard snow blowing past me, onto and I swear, into me. I hid in a corner and got the stove on.

It was cold, very cold indeed. I had two cuppas in quick succession, but neither reached my toes or fingertips. I kept my down jacket on, dug my pack and axe out from under the snow and stood up. The little patch of blue above me was coming to nothing, I was sure of it. If I waited for it I’d be an orange and purple snotter frozen to a rock when they found me, time to go.

I made better route choices on the descent, turns out there’s a steepness-free option almost all the way. Imagine that.
The fresh snow-fall did bring something else to mind though, just like step cutting, another skill is probably suffering from lack of practise and that’s cleaning your balls.
I found myself having to clean my balls quite regularly on the way down, sometimes with a kick but mostly with a swing of the ice axe. Anti-ball plates on crampons do actually work it seems, on my plate-free crampons I seemed to get an inch taller with every step as the snow built up. I wasn’t worried, I just pretended I was Gene Simmons and my ice axe was his axe shaped bass.

Little wisps of cloud started to creep up from the glens or float down them like lazy ghosts. It was getting dark but I got across the bridge before it got too scary.
Once on the track I stuck my hands in my pockets and pulled up my hood to keep the chill and the unwelcome cold shower out. The hill disappeared in dark and cloud and the rest of the landscape had followed it by the time I got past the warmly lit farmhouse windows to the motor where I changed some clothes and boiled the stove one last time for some soup and hot chocolate.

I was happy. I was a little tired and damp with a very long drive ahead, but the energy I took from those precious minutes where the skies were clear and the snow was gleaming is still turning my engine over as I sit here typing two days later.

Nearly forgot, night time tent shot.
Kinda.

In next week’s episode I’ll be suggesting ways to fix the schism between incompatible religious doctrines.

PS, for a fun time, just try and spend that banknote above south of the border. Bastard retard shopkeepers “What’s this?” “It’s ten pounds Sterling, dick”.

It was still quite pleased with myself when I saw the next snow clouds rumbling in.

A cuppa makes it all better.