Glencoe – even the name is shrouded in history, treachery and mystique. The sign in the youth hostel still says that Campbells are not welcome. I recall there was that little incident in 1692. You’d like to think that we’ve got over that now but us Celts have a long memory.
I first visited Glencoe as an independent adult over fifty years ago. That trip was over a miserable weekend, wet and cold in a tent. Abandoning all thoughts of venturing off the road onto the hill, my mate and I walked along to Hamish MacInnes’s house. He was most welcoming, praised our caution regarding the poor weather conditions and showed us around his climbing school. Later I joined the Langside Climbing Club and used the bothy/doss house at Altnafeadh. Now it is a car park accommodating the huge number of visitors who want access to the ‘Buachaille’ and Glen Etive.
How the world changes.
Glencoe an adventure playground
The latest trip involved meeting up with my brother, his eldest daughter, husband and their two teenage children. They all now live in Texas USA. Hot, flat and dry. Not like Glencoe at all.
What do you do in Glencoe in July with an American family who’ve never been there and who have never seen terrain like it? Suggest a hill walk. What else do you do in Glencoe?
Sgorr na Ciche or the Pap of Glencoe is described by my wife as a ‘gateway hill’. You either hate it or love it and beware, it can lead to a lifelong obsession getting outdoors, with walking up hills, and other anti-social behaviours. This can develop into acquiring a collection of friends that would not look out of place on the hit TV comedy drama ‘Northern Exposure’. If you’ve never heard of this follow the link. Your life will never be the same again.
Glencoe is an adventure playground. The hills are big, the mist rolls in along the glens, it has a feeling of otherworldliness. The names of the hills are mystical and trip off the visitor’s tongue only after a lot of practice. Buachille Etive Mor, Aonach Eagach, Bidean nam Bian. Make no mistake, these are demanding hills to venture out on. Go out with experienced people. Carry a map and compass and know how to use them. Start in the summer and make sure you tell people where you are going and when you intend to return.
Those new experiences
Anyway, Maggie and I took the Texans Charlotte and Jack up the hill. They, frankly, had never seen anything like it. The mist, the disappearing summit on the way up, and the effort involved in getting there were all new experiences. I shared a photo of Charlotte en route, with my family. My daughter commented that she looked as if she wishes she was back in London walking to Buckingham Palace. That’s the beauty of families, it’s full of many people with many different interests. You’ve got to try them all- once.
On summiting, that’s getting to the top in real money, I asked Charlotte to break out the crunchie bars. She then informs me that her grandfather (my little brother who’s down walking in the valley for God’s sake!) had taken the whole packet for his lunch.
Families, eh? I don’t know about yours but it’s survival of the fittest in mine.
After a lot of blood, sweat and I suspect a few silent tears we returned to the road. I briefed the kids that there was to be no getting on the knees, thanking the Gods and John Loudon MacAdam for ‘real’ roads nor kissing them. On reuniting the kids with their parents and grandparents there ensued an argument between siblings. Brother Jack claimed his sister owed him £60 for carrying their lunch all the way up the hill.
I only knew of this when we got back to the road.
I was raging!
Bloody hell!
I would have carried the rucksack for half the money!
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