Sunday, 15 May 2011

Right, tea breaks over. Back on your heads.

You've had it pretty easy over the last few weeks while I've been hors de combat. Posts about philosophy politics micro-electronics etc.have delighted or infuriated (or bored) you while you waited. But that's not what you enlisted for, is it ? You want full-on hillwalking, red in tooth and sock. Your wish is my command.
As you are aware, stoic is my middle name, but I have to admit to being mightily peed-off that the momentum I had been building up during early April had been dissipated.
So after a little warm up last weekend, it was time to get the Donaldometer ticking over again.

It was a Tillicoultry start again, and I clocked in at the Clock Mill as usual. Going up the steps through the wood i had to follow a 40-something couple who were only marginally faster than me. She had an arse like a coalman's horse which she had squeezed into a pair of these stretchy running/walking trousers, displaying a VPL as prominent as the Ochil Fault itself.

I was pleased to see that cloot-casting is now in season, but decided , in the interest of public decency, to wait until I got home.

Two types of whin !

After the initial brisk climb, it became obvious that, physiologically speaking, it was not a "good day". It was not a "bad day" either , but I was suffering a bit and the brain, as it does, started to look for cop-outs and excuses to fail. You may have been lucky enough never to have been afflicted by this, but for us normal people, it requires a certain amount of "giving yourself a good talking to". I get particularly frustrated when I am overtaken by cheery healthy people who are obviously older than myself. However, at this point yesterday I consoled myself with the thought that many people are never spared to enjoy a view like this.

My original plan had been to go to the top of the glen, and then tackle Kings Seat from the col. At the "gate to nowhere" I took the psychologically important decision the divert to the upper path. This was a good move. The going was easy- height was gained quite quickly and I was soon at a little coll with a straightforward pull up to the top.

I have no idea what this little cairn, marked on OS maps is about.

As I neared the summit, I could see rain showers coming in from the NW and getting all the nice new turbines wet.

The path goes over the true summit marked by a kind of horizontal cairn and then along the wide flat ridge to a more substantial stone shelter cairn.

The Law, Cleuch and Andrew Gannel
As I tried to take some pictures of the valley below, the camera informed me that its memory was full. I know the feeling. It also started to rain. So, straight off the top and heading down towards Dollar.

At this point I was suffering some distress. Lights were showing on the control panel. Head, knees, ankles, and liver were at amber, and feet and heart were already flashing red.The least said about the section past the Spitfire cairn, through Banks of Dollar, over Bank Hill and down Dollar Glen the better! Which is a pity as there were some good photo opportunities.
I'll just need to go back again.
So, there you have it.I feel surprisingly chipper this morning, so perhaps I can get the momentum back.I noticed that the bracken is unfolding and there are several walks i would like to get done before it becomes a nuisance. We shall see.


  1. When I finally get round to writing my book about pay-off lines for old and cherished jokes, then "tea break over, back on your heads" will have a chapter entirely to itself. That made me chuckle when it flashed up on my screen.
    Alen McF

  2. I hope there is room for
    Not now. I'm trying to fix the bus (see previous post)
    It puts itself out at night
    It was an iron bar

    no no more stop it now!!!!!!!!(ed)

  3. I used to work with a chap from Birmingham and we had this routine where one of us would, completely out of the blue, utter the punch-line from an old joke. Then we’d both fall about laughing. It never fails to amaze me how these jokes have travelled far and wide, and been passed on by word of mouth. I now work with a woman from Sunderland who has a similar thing going with her friends and recently came out with: “No sir, I just asked him to remove his cufflinks,” which brightened my day no end. I had a laugh at the iron bar gag. Tommy Cooper if I’m not mistaken.
    Alen McF

  4. I had to amputate your arms
    These are pickled onions