{"id":25857,"title":"Dont call a Deer a Horse - BLOG 02","description":"I tried a casual stroll; I had inherited my dad's casual amble, remembering a \u2018long gone walk\u2019","content":"

Blog 002 \u2018Dont call a Deer a Horse\u2019 Ruigh Aiteachain<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

keith dont go - beautiful and haunting<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

\"f1nzzfyglizyjkm7aarvafsirtoaryr5ielhe1istt2qtjxo.png.png?w=1140&v=2\"The Bothy \u20181975\u2019<\/p>

With my refreshed but 'rusty' compass skills to guide us, we stepped into these Scottish Highlands' expectant swirling mists and unyielding rain. It was September 1971, and the unrelenting wild weather brought waves of deer. It was horrible and, simultaneously, breathtaking, a scene worthy of Victorian Landseer.' <\/p>

This week-long school trip soon transformed and beguiled me. The magic of this place, the polar opposite of the harshness of the Edinburgh 'scheme' council housing I came from. <\/p>

We stayed at the Glen Feshie bothy, also known as Ruigh Aiteachain. Twelve boys ready for adventure. The winds of fate are often cruel-just not for us. Three months later, tragedy struck when five teen boys and a trainee instructor from the same Laggan Lea activity centre lost their lives nearby in such a treacherous and blinding snowstorm. As a last resort, they had built an snow cave. They were only one hundred yards from the safety of Corrour Bothy's shelter!<\/p>

Five years later, I found myself hiking along a familiar route from Kingussie, passing Ruthven Barracks the infamous Hanoverian fort that housed the Duke of Cumberlands's Red Coated Goverment butchers. After pausing momentarily, with genuine sympathy and contemplation, we made for Achlean\u2014the beginning of another unforgettable journey that repeatedly pulls me back to this enchanting glen. Tomorrow, Stuart and I will wander the hills via the Sghor route, armed with nothing but a sturdy map and our determination<\/p>

Trekking through the Cairngorms requires a readiness to adapt to the unpredictable Scottish weather, where it's common to experience several seasons in just one day. You need to be flexible and prepared to change your plans at a moment's notice. We always let the nearest police station know about our travel plans after thoroughly checking our supplies and equipment. We could be sometimes three days in these mountains. Unlike now, we didn't have the convenience of modern technology back then. Many questions plagued my mind: What if we couldn't reach the shelter? How much water would we need for the journey ahead?<\/p>

\"mlfw0kdagv0ehfzjplbyncnotck5ovzrque084iflox978tx.png.png?w=1140&v=2\"The path to the bothy, Ruigh Aiteachain, was straightforward. Look out for an ancient cattle drover track. The most challenging part was crossing a swollen river in spate now. It is to be carefully navigated with the sharp boulders and rocks in the river, the remnants of a recently collapsed bridge, a reminder of the region's weather. When we finally arrived, the reward was well worth it. After gathering adjacent fallen wood, we lit a fire and soon had steaming cups of tea. We fought with the assembling swarm of relentless midges; their buzzing is a small price for this tranquil respite. They midges had the scent of our \u2018human blood\u2019 and our arrival.<\/p>

As we were about to settle in, a local Ghillie was attracted by the smoke from the lum (chimney) of the bothy, diverted by this and ambled by with his dog on his before he turned-in walk for the evening. It\u2019s amusing antics, showing recent signs of fetal worms, he rubbed and dragged its rear end on the ground, a time-served canine remedy. We all stopped to observe this and laughed. <\/p>

\"2pwvy9mgxkusdxe66bf0bbkri3uf5lh1mhvtyb8fn1xdrfeb.jpeg.jpeg?w=1140&v=2\"My \u2018AI\u2019inspiration - i forget how to draw - one of the to be blog characters \u2018Border.\u2019<\/p>

We chatted about our planned route and passed the time. He was amiable and surreptitious at the same time as he gently enquired of us; we were early for the season. He then satisfied we were genuine and not poachers kindly imparted final words of wisdom, care and safety. The next day we would soon gaze upon the formidable peaks of Carn Ban Mhorr and Sgor Ghorr. The visible patches of stubborn snow still clung to the hills in defiance of the warming season. <\/p>

Ah, Ruigh Aiteachain\u2014my haven of safety in this life, my wilderness. Translated, it means -'island in the glen.'<\/p>

After saying our goodbyes to the Ghillie, we dimmed the fire, creating a fantasmagorical fire upward dancing light glow for the night. We enjoyed simple, hearty meals and shared stories we both knew, as you do, drunken escapades of youth. Each moment feeling precious. I couldn't help but notice that Stu still never spoke about Bob, his father who had tragically passed away the previous summer. Sometimes I reflect on that silence with a sense of regret. I wonder if our time together gave him a distraction, a sense of connection during such a difficult period. I truly hope it did. <\/p>

Cancer is an unfathomably cruel disease, and its impact on lives is devastating. <\/p>

As dawn broke, a faint light seeped through the crack in the bothy door, accompanied by the familiar creak and groan of door hinge and aged timber as we pushed it open. Our hearts sank slightly at the realisation that we had forgotten to pack any oil, the WD-40! Outside, the crisp morning air was alive with the rustle of deer, startled from their quiet grazing, darting away into the shimmering morning light. Meanwhile, the midges buzzed around us, an unwelcome cloud dancing amidst the misty dew droplets adorned the grass. Thankfully, we busied ourselves packing up and their annoying presence began to wane. <\/p>

With each step, we honoured the unspoken etiquette and tidied this cherished refuge nestled at the foot of the mountains. We gathered fallen timber, the smell of earth and wood mingling in the cool air while sharing a few packets of hearty soup and dried food\u2014a simple yet satisfying meal that could be enjoyed by other new-comers courtesy of the gurgling highland stream that flowed nearby. Ahead of us loomed a long, steady ascent, the promise of an exhilarating adventure waiting beyond the subsequent rise, and with it, the anticipation of more unforgettable moments to be cherished along life's rugged path.<\/p>

Eight hours later, we were tired, knackered and thigh-deep in the early May snow, searching for hidden streams with a long stick. I was hot and had drips of sweat on my forehead and oxters. (armpits) I pointed out two lone walkers on the rising horizon to Stu, who said he could only see one on second and third glance.<\/p>

When we examined them closer through our binoculars, their striding shapes were mirrored. The lengthy hike along the rugged hilltop had thoroughly exhausted me. I was clearly hallucinating!The steep inclines had taken a toll on my legs as I navigated the winding trails while the sun beat down relentlessly. Each step felt heavier than the last, and my breath came in laboured gasps. The breathtaking views of the Glen below were a welcome distraction. Still, even the beauty of nature could not diminish the fatigue that settled deep in my bones. <\/p>

As we examined the intricately folded map, the reality of our journey set in: we still had eight challenging miles ahead of us, navigating through rugged and uneven terrain before we could finally reach the sanctuary of Corrour bothy. After a short discussion twenty minutes later, we started our descent and decided to turn back. Common sense had prevailed. We were still high-spirited, if a little disappointed; we had been well trained and through that tragic memory had learned to respect these hills; you have to. <\/p>

Rescue searches can also put courageous volunteer teams at risk. Their commitment to helping others is admirable but also comes with significant dangers. Years earlier, I had been part of a 'mock' rescue team; and we had simulated carrying a volunteer. An experienced instructor, himself a rescue volunteerput us through our paces, he had deliberately chosen the biggest of our group - affectionately known as 'Dutch'. We brought this 'muckle big lump' tightly bound to a stretcher over extreme paths , high deer fence and streams, teen payback as it was we sometimes ensured he was soaked.<\/p>

That twelve-mile, much expletive-ridden simulated hike was forever ingrained in my mind. It was a problematic and deliberate rescue by design, and it was 'far from easy!'<\/p>