Glencoe, Scotland. 31 August — 3 September 1994
The much publicised
meet became a reality when 19 stalwarts made it to the Bridge of Orchy Hotel near Glencoe,
despite the efforts of Jimmy Knapp and his cohorts to stop us by calling a
railway workers' strike on that day. The weather had been foul over most of
Britain for several days, and most were expecting a wet and cold meet. DM³
had decided not to bring a camera, knowing the reputation of the area for bad
weather. Socks simply said: 'Trust me, I've got friends in high places.'
We all checked in. Those
with previous experience ascertained that Axeman had booked a hotel room and
promptly opted for the bunkhouse in the hope that distance would mitigate the
effects of 120-decibel belches which were to shake the building for the next
three days. Little did they know that that they would fall foul of Mad Mike and
Harpic. (The hotel staff had had previous experience, during a recce by Axeman
and Socks, when Axeman cleared the lounge bar of customers with one of his
specials uttered in the public bar some distance away). The first night was
comparatively quiet by Meths standards as old friendships were renewed over
several jars of fine ale. However, we almost lost our president when the barman
threatened to eject him after a particularly powerful emission was alleged to
have driven away a coach party about to descend on the hotel.
Thursday morning saw
14 stalwarts assembled outside the hotel, with the mist and midges swirling
around goosepimpled legs. More mutterings about the weather — more
reassurances from Socks, and we set off for the 10-mile drive into the heart of
Glencoe. By the time we reassembled at the starting point at Altnafeadh the sun
had broken through the mist and the spectacular sight of Buachaille Etive Mor
was before us.
Before we set off Axeman
demonstrated his support for Scottish
and Newcastle Breweries by dishing out cans of McEwan's Export to those
poor souls without liquid refreshment. The first objective was the towering
summit of Stob Dearg (3,352ft), the 'Great Shepherd' — proud guardian of
the pass of Glencoe. There are several routes up this famous peak, including
some classic rock scrambles. Ours was the great cleft to the west of Stob
Dearg, known as Coire na Tulaich, a mixture of scree and rock with a few
interesting variations for the posers (Socks and Denis Lewis managed some early
scrambling to get in the mood).
The summit reached by
all in good order. Socks disappeared over the edge to look at part of one of
the rock routes on the east side. Undaunted, Axeman took over the leadership
and strode off with the party towards the next peak, leaving Socks to his fate
and his tin of sardines. Onward, ever onward, over Stob na Doire (3,317ft),
Stob Coire Altruim (3,087ft), Stob na Broige (3,132ft), and Stob yer Toes on
the steep grassy descent to the road by the River Etive. Some skinny dipped in
a deep pool, and emerged looking almost Beldonesque — is that why some
Swiss Army knives are fitted with tweezers? Everyone did justice to the day
with good hard walking in brilliant sunshine. 'God must drink Meths!' (Eric
Scott).
Back at the Bridge of
Orchy the hotel staff had quickly got the measure of the mob they had been
naive enough to allow anywhere near the place. They tactfully suggested that we
made use of the lounge for dinner, thus sparing their more sane guests another
evening of ribaldry and loud breaking of wind. Just as well, as the infamous
Glee Club got into full swing later in the evening, treating members and guests
to the usual cacophony of ribald fare. Judging by the remarks of the hotel
manageress the next morning others had involuntarily shared in the festivities
— perhaps it's time to clean up our act.
On the Friday the
walkers divided into two parties. One group set off into the Hidden Valley
between two of the Three Sisters towards Bidean nam Bian (3,773ft). The others,
led by Socks, tackled the famous Aonach Eagach (jagged ridge in English). Again
the weather was superb, which was just as well as the Aonach is a serious rock
scramble along three miles of exposed ridge with no escape routes. This was
accomplished by all six, albeit with varying degrees of trepidation. Harpic was
nominated for Meths Farter of the Year almost causing the party behind us to
turn back, and rendering several sheep unconscious. The trip was a memorable
one for all, with clear views of Ben Nevis and the numerous high peaks in the
area.
Socks took the party
off via the infamous Clachaig Gully 'just to see if it's as horrible as it's
made out to be'. It isn't — it's much worse. Over 3,000ft of merciless
scree, like walking on ballbearings, with a sheer gully on the left most of the
way. Only the sight of the Clachaig Inn way below us kept us going —
thinking of that long bar with about 20 different ales on tap!
The other party, which
didn't fancy the Crazy Pinnacles (or was it the ozone-depleting qualities of
Harpic's Passage), set off on the opposite side of the road into some of the
finest walking country in Scotland. For a description of the 'scenery' read on!
Eric Scott was leading
this group up the Hidden Valley when he came upon two nubile German ladies
sunbathing au naturel. They were just cleaning themselves up when Axeman
appeared from a hairy traverse muttering 'that's enough exposure for one day'.
This double entendre was so appreciated by Eric that he tripped and
pole-vaulted into the stream (allegedly). He is also very coy about how he knew
that the two young ladies were Germans! Anyway, holding himself erect, the
leader took his party on to Ben Fhada and back to Allt na reigh to end a
glorious day of walking.
Once again the hotel
had tried to find us a soundproof room, where we had our own special menu. Most
had rainbow trout, thus depriving Mad Mike of his kippers for breakfast next
morning. Dinner was followed by the AGM.
Saturday morning found
the uninitiated receiving their Suswa washes on a
suitably placed rock in the River Etive, accompanied by the usual hilarity of
the seasoned members (see previous paragraph!) and the incredulity of the
locals who thought this was a day trip from a lunatic asylum. Then, as all good
things do, Meths came to an end for another year and we went our separate ways
again. Stuart "Socks" Leslie
Participants: Stuart "Socks" Leslie (leader),
Chris Leslie, Ian "Axeman" Mason, Brian "AMLH" Sayers, Eric
"Polevault" Scott, Valerie Scott, Mike "Mad" Petzold,
Verena "Muesli" Petzold, Christina Petzold, Daphne
"DM³" Martin, Willie "Willie" McCorquodale, Dave
"LBR" Harrison, Stephen Harrison, Denis Lewis, Mike "Harpic
— Clean Round the Bend" Mossford. Non-walkers: Sadie Mason, Rhoda
Leslie, Jane Sayers. Guest: Mrs Petzold — Mad Mike's mum ('I tried to
bring him up properly, honest!')
©
WDYFO, 1994