Festive ambles

This week has been a lazy but rewarding week, full of festivity and fun! A much needed week to recover from everything that came before, to take stock of what is important, and to recharge the batteries.

There has been some much needed fresh air too. Christmas Day brought what is fast becoming a yearly tradition - a one club golf challenge with the brothers. Boxing Day came complete with a short but nice walk from Carlops to West Linton and round the golf course with Rossco.

Dave and I then headed to Balado where the weather seemed determined to thwart our plans - but we still managed 8 miles round Loch Leven. I look forward to returning when the whole trail, 13 miles, is complete. And perhaps on a day when we're not getting completed battered by wind and rain!!

Dave captioned this photo 'Fifty Shades of Grey'

Exactly what we needed at the end!

It must have been the fresh air (it can't have been the wine) but I passed out later that night around 9pm and needed another walk the next day to recover!

Dave and I set off to Crook of Devon and took a lovely - if a bit wet - walk to Rumbling Bridge. My phone gave up on me after only one photo, but the river Devon was in full flow.

It has been so nice to get out and about, for short bursts of activity - nothing too strenuous. I'm filled with thoughts and plans for next year, walks to be had and Munros to be conquered. But for now, I'm thankful for where I am and what I have.

Merry Christmas from the Anxious Ambler!

And so this is Christmas! The past few days (weeks, months) have flown by in a whirlwind of thoughts, worries, anxieties and the rest.

I think I'll leave my 2012 wrap up for another time this week but for now I want to say a very Merry Christmas to you all - I'm very much looking forward to the traditional family festivities - food, presents, wine, bad jokes, golf, board games, banter and more food.

So however you are spending your Christmas I hope it is enjoyable, rewarding, and full of laughter and fun!

AA xxx

If...

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling


Thanks to my Mum for reminding me of the sentiments of this poem. It has been on the wall of our home all my life, and quoted on many occasions.

After a tough week it is useful to re-read this fantastic poem and take a moment to understand what it means to me.

December 1st, 2012

I am quite disappointed in myself that I didn't manage to get another blog post in for November. I haven't managed to get out on another proper walk since the braw walk in the Borders a few weeks ago. Last weekend Dave and I spent two days in a row walking along the canal - an old favourite and a walk I used to take almost every day. I find it quite cathartic and it helps me get my thoughts in order. It was nice to get out there again last week.

Aside from that, I've been choked up with the winter cold that's going around, and I've had two teeth wrenched out. I've watched the Scotland rugby team go from okay-ish to not so good. I've got frustrated and disappointed with myself far more frequently than I have for a while ... and to counter that, I've started making 'resolutions' for next year. Not your average 'drink less, eat less, broken by the 7th of January' resolutions - they never last! Dave and I started this year determined not to eat carbs...we did well for a while - if you count spaghetti bolognase with spinach instead of spaghetti as doing well - but the carbs slowly but surely crept back in to our lives without us even realising.

This resolutions, plans, hopes are about bettering myself. They may seem small and insignificant to others but to me they are important, achievable, pushing me from my comfort zone, taking me places, driving me towards my goals.

There are changes that have to be made. Things I need to do. Places I want to go. Blog posts I yearn to write!

I know what I have to do and I know what has to be done. I'll keep you posted as I make my journey and I hope the progress will be measurable in many ways by this time next year.

I'll post again before the end of the year, but rest assured the Anxious Ambler is diving straight in to what the future holds...

Braw day on the BAW

Having recently turned my attention to all things 'winter' and perhaps resigned myself to not conquering another Munro this year (9 in a year ain't too shabby...), I'd managed to forget that some of the best walks are right on your doorstep.

And in this household, the Borders rules okay. Once I'd realised that there was a window of opportunity for a walk, I was very keen to progress on my 'bagging' of the BAW - the Borders Abbeys Way. It's 68 miles long, and I'm thrilled to now be another step closer to completion.

The stage I had in mind was the 13.5 mile section from Kelso to Jedburgh. It is the second longest stage of the walk (not counting Melrose to Kelso, which we'd done in 2 parts), and so I was interested to see how I'd cope with more than ten miles.

Dave was, of course, keen. It's nae called Kelsae bonnie Kelsae for nothing, he tells me. Ken.

Dad was up for it too, and we arranged to meet in the car park in Jedburgh on Saturday morning. We left one car there and drove together to Kelso.

There's not much left of it now, but Kelso Abbey makes a dramatic start to any walk:

It was a nice day. Crisp, cold, sunny. Blue skies. Chilly. Some of my favourite walking weather, although I still get too warm in the sun!

We left via the Kelso Bridge, saying goodbye to the Tweed and heading onwards to the river Teviot. We knew we'd be down by the riverside for much of the walk, and were expecting it to be a bit wet on the path. And it certainly was - quite muddy too. It made for some tough squelchy walking.

It may have been muddy, but the Autumnal colours were simply beautiful and walking alongside such beauty was a pleasure.














We were alongside the River Teviot for a good few miles at this section. We stopped for lunch on the way, enjoying the peace and tranquillity of our surroundings.

This was certainly one of my favourite sections of the Borders Abbeys Way so far. It was just so pleasant, and on a day like this, a delight.

We left the river and made our way through the tiny village of Roxburgh. The path took us under the Roxburgh viaduct, a remnant of the old Borders railway. There would be more of that later in the day...

Things were about to become slightly more challenging when we rejoined the river...

We each took a different route through the 'glaar'. Dave took the high road, Dad took the low road, and I opted for straight through the middle.

We each came out the other side extremely muddy. No surprise there then.

It was very clatchy (love the onomatopoeia of that word!) and we had sore necks from staring down at our feet the whole time.








We finally got through the mud and headed up some steps away from the river. This took us to our first section of the old railway line. I have to say it was a relief to be away from the soft squelchy riverside path, and onto a more solid path. The former railway line made for a great path. Very straight, and therefore straightforward. There were some muddy patches, but nothing too challenging thankfully.

We exited the railway line briefly, and saw plenty of hens:

Then we were back on the railway line, seemingly for miles to come.

I quite enjoyed the simplicity of this walking. Some may have got a bit bored but I found it gave me the time to think. I wasn't worried about where I was going next (despite a good map and instructions, and plenty of waymarks, I still seem to worry about getting lost) and I could just be in the moment. And that's what I'm working on after all :)

After passing by the small hamlet of Nisbet, we crossed onto the other side of the River Teviot.

One of my favourite pictures of the day

We were then directed into a field, back onto the remains of the railway line, and finally onto a main road. We crossed the road and joined 'Dere Street', part of the Roman Road from York to Edinburgh.

It may not look it from this picture, but Dere Street went gradually uphill. I assume this was our ascent of the day - a total of 100m! It was a bit of a slog really - we must have been around the 11 mile mark and our legs were starting to feel it. Combined with the mud, it wasn't my favourite part. When I read we'd be on a Roman Road, I knew it would be straight but I didn't think it would be so vertical!

Finally we turned right (the St Cuthbert's Way keeps going straight up Dere Street), and there was a moment of light relief that we were back on the horizontal. Feeling Jedburgh getting closer and closer, we were starting to feel weary. We took a wee rest to chat to some four-legged friends:

We got a rest and the horses left with fresher breath - a win win!

All of a sudden we were down onto the road and could sense our arrival in Jedburgh was imminent. The path directed us alongside the Jed Water.

As we got further round, a group of people stood on the path watching the river. It didn't take Dave long to realise that they were keeping their eyes out for leaping salmon - and it didn't take long before we saw some ourselves. The excitement! This was only the second time I have ever seen salmon leaping - the first being just a few months ago in East Linton. It was just a great way to end a walk.

Once we reached Jedburgh proper, Dad and Dave made their way towards Mary Queen of Scots House. I decided to keep following the BAW waymarks and see where the path led into town. More fool me, the path was blocked further along the river and I was forced back onto the road. However it led me straight back to the car park with Jedburgh Abbey ahead. Sadly I have no photos of the Abbey as the rain (which wasn't forecast) began to fall. We hopped into Dad's car and drove back to Kelso.

Dave was insistent it wouldn't be raining in Kelso (centre of the universe) but it barely mattered because the rain had given us a beautiful ending to the day:

And of course, the pot of gold was to be found in Kelso.

We were muddy and quite tired, but had enjoyed our day. It's always nice to get out and about on a lovely day such as this, and to feel you've made the best of it.

Importantly for me, I didn't feel absolutely exhausted (not until later that night anyway) and would have been able to keep walking. The balls of my feet were starting to get sore, so I know I need to address that. But I want to feel able to walk that distance - and more - comfortably. I've already decided that next year I'm going to attempt the West Highland Way (and get my Munro count to at least 18). The real challenge will be walking day after day. I've always had a recovery day the next day, so it will be interesting to see if I can really carry on for seven or eight days.

Until then, I'm pleased to have completed another section of the Borders Abbeys Way, and have 2 to go before the Way is completed. The next two sections, Jedburgh to Hawick and Hawick to Selkirk, look a bit more challenging than what's been done already. I'm not sure whether I'll get them in this year or not.

I'll be chuffed to have bagged the BAW. After all, the best walks can be just on your doorstep.

A year ago...

...the 4th of November was a Friday night. Mum and Dad had been to the Dominion. Dave and I had met them afterwards at the Merlin for some dinner. Mum had brought with her a letter that I had asked her to print for me. I had signed it and posted it at a Morningside postbox on our way back to the flat.

The next day we'd planned to climb Schiehallion.

I felt strange that night, a real mixture of emotions. I had finally committed to a decision that was over a year in the making.

My letter didn't arrive until the Monday morning. By that point I was on a ferry to Arran in the sunshine. I was beginning a new chapter.

The letter was my letter of resignation and one of the hardest things I've ever had to write. Or feel.

It is such a weird feeling to look back on this time last year and to think about how much has changed. I am quite a reflective person, and although I am trying to look back less - and live in the present more - it is often useful to think back on a time in a previous year and to measure the progress, the changes, the differences.

These dates stick in my mind so much. The 2nd of November - I finished my last Skye tour. The 4th of November - I posted my letter of resignation. The 5th of November - remember, remember. A small bump on the motorway. The 7th of November - Dave's birthday. Our trip to Arran. The day the letter arrived and it all became real.

I'd taken a scary step. But the right step. It didn't feel brave but looking back I suppose there was an element of bravery behind it. I can't say that I left a comfortable job for the unknown. It was never a comfortable job. But there certainly was unknown. A few months of it.

And finally, things started to look brighter in the first 2 months of 2012. Things have been progressing for me. It is time to look forward - but mostly to attempt to live in the present, to enjoy the moment, to feel what I am feeling.

The Dales and The Film Fest - and some valued perspective

It has been too long since I last blogged, but the past couple of weeks have been most fulfilling.

Following Dave and I's great wee trip to the West Coast, and reaching the wonderful goal of my 10th Munro, I was excited to head off on another adventure.

This time I was heading south, off to the Yorkshire Dales with my colleague Jenny for a research trip. We were hoping to get a bit of walking done whilst we were there but alas, the weather was not in our favour. We had a successful few days exploring Swaledale, Wharfedale, Wensleydale (and sampling much of its delicious cheese!), and lovely villages such as Reeth, Hawes, Kirkby Stephen, and Appleby.

On our fourth day we managed to get out for a short walk on the Lady Anne's Way, one of the new walks we'll be offering at work for next year.

It was lovely to be out and about, strolling in the fresh Yorkshire air and enjoying the views. I was a wee bit nervous with so many sheep about but managed to cope!

My highlight of the week however had to be a short stroll to Hardraw Force (on the Herriot Way fact fans!), the highest single drop waterfall in England. With so much rainfall recently, the waterfull was gi'in it laldie:

This weekend has brought another exciting event, which has given me a renewed and fresh perspective on things. This was the weekend of the 10th Edinburgh Mountain Film Festival, an absolutely fantastic event which was not on my radar until this year. We had a stand at work, and it was great to have the opportunity to get out and chat to people.

I've put a lot of work into conquering my nerves this past year. There are occasions where my progress is put to the test - and I'm not too sure I do so well - by my own standards anyway. I had a really hard time, initially, feeling brave enough to speak to people. It's an overwhelming feeling - I feel sick, I just want to run away and hide.

However. That would be the easy way out. I really have to force myself not to run away. Generally things end up okay, but it feels like a mountain in itself to overcome. These challenges are useful to check out my progress - or lack of it - yet frustrating at the same time.

I've bagged my 10th Munro, but I don't have a measurable equivalent when it comes to my anxiety. I can only go on my feelings - and they come and go.

Anyway, the best thing about the Film Festival was the opportunity to see some of the films on show, and listen to some of the inspiring lectures from the guest speakers. These amazing people have achieved incredible things, and it is truly humbling to hear their tales.

I may never reach the North or South Pole (I'm okay with that) but I've even more determined to achieve my own personal goals. That means those 272 unbagged mountains out there in the north of Scotland are going to be conquered at some point. This weekend has cemented my certainty.

I've just signed up to do a winter walking course in the Cairngorms too. Maybe I do need to check out my progress a bit more often when it comes to my anxiety. I know I've progressed a lot in this past year, although I am often frustrated that I haven't progressed more. I've never been very patient...

But I'll get to the summit eventually - that I am sure of.

ten down, 272 to go!

Hooray!

Apologies for the delay in getting to this blog post. My tenth Munro came at the beginning of a wee holiday Dave and I took last week, and I only returned home yesterday.

We left Edinburgh at 8.30am last Thursday and this time banana and jam rolls replaced the usual pre-hill porridge (well we were on our holidays after all!). We well and truly celebrated our grand vacances by consuming the usual post-hill pies, eh, pre-hill. I think myself (and Dave) find it extremely difficult to drive through Callander without stopping for a couple of Mhor Bread's finest.

That meant we got to Inveruglas around 11.30am. The forecast for this day was not good, with the Met Office telling me that drizzle - and sleet - were coming. I thought we'd give it a bash. I so wanted to bag my tenth. I knew I was out of free weekends in October, and who knows what November will bring. I did say I wouldn't bother persevering if it was pouring down, so I was thrilled when Thursday brought a cloudy - but dry - sky.

We began from the visitor centre at around 11.40am, crossing the road and walking past the pipes of the Loch Sloy power station. The views over Loch Lomond were nice.

We then left the road and headed along a road most used by Network Rail. There was a lot of work going on prior to reaching the sub-station, which threw us a bit, and we kept walking up the road when we shouldn't have. Thankfully Dave has much better navigational skills than I, and we corrected ourselves before we'd gone too far.

The views of Ben Vane kept opening up in front of us:

Soon we left the road and began walking up a farm track, past some amiable coos.

The 'path' then disappeared into a bog, and we could see we were heading up to the shoulder of Ben Vane's ridge. It did look steep going - but short and sharp. Possible. Manageable. But not before we picked our way through a soggy bog. I never did follow up on my boot saga here but I came out a winner, as I now have a pair of Zamberlan Ultra Lite boots which are - hooray - waterproof! It was nice to come through that bog (and the others that followed) with dry feet. The same can't be said for Dave who, also in a pair of Zamberlans, ended up with wet feet. His boots aren't in good shape and he just cannot seem to stop himself getting at least ankle deep in boggy bogginess.

Once we'd got through the bog we were up and onto the shoulder.

At this point we couldn't see the real summit. In fact we couldn't see the real summit until we were on the real summit, but we'll come to that (eventually).

We were then back in the bog. It had obviously rained a fair bit up there prior to our arrival. I was glad of my sturdy boots, but terrain-wise it was so tough going as we were constantly looking at where we put our feet. I was desperate to get to the more rocky section where it was drier. I'd feel differently later in the day...

It was then, as we got higher, that the mixed weather rewarded us. The rain was never constant, nor heavy, but there were a few showers here and there that forced our jackets on. So it was nice to see this:

We soon reached the rocky section. And it certainly was a relief from the bog but it soon became a challenge in itself. The 'path' was steep and the rock was loose. It was pretty scrambly already. We stopped often for a breather, which was great because every time I turned round, more and more views opened up.

Looking back to Inversnaid, I reflected on times gone by. For a good two and a half years, at least once a week (and once 4 or 5 times a week!) I drove the mad 15 mile stretch from Aberfoyle to Inversnaid, and back again. A stunning road, Billy Connelly's favourite. A nerve-wracking road. On my first day as a tour driver guide, I put the bus in a ditch on this road, and 16 passengers pushed me out. It was a road I hated and loved all at the same time. I saw it in spring, summer, autumn and winter. But I had never seen those wonderful sights I used to frequently pass from the angle I was seeing them at now.

There was Loch Katrine, so famous. And Loch Arklet, so beautiful. They were three-dimensional now. It was just so beautiful.

And. Then. Things started to get seriously tough. At that moment we hadn't fully appreciated that we were heading for a false summit.

So steep!

Monarch of the Vane!

Our instructions said there were 'a few false summits' - I was not prepared for four. These were false summits unlike Schiehallion's false summits, or any false summits I'd experienced before. You literally could not see the summit - or any false summit - behind the one that preceded it. Each one went up sharply. I got my usual pre-summit boost of energy, only for my hopes to be dashed again and again.

After the second - or was it third? summit in disguise, we stumbled upon four women. We hadn't seen them before so they must have set off around two hours ahead of us. They were on their way down, and I was hoping they'd tell us that the chunk of rock afore us was our last dash to the summit.

"No, there's another one after this" Sigh. "But this one was the worst".

Yup that was about right. We choose a way up that seemed okay, but it did involve Dave giving me a leg up. This was rock climbing, not Munro bagging.

Eventually - thank goodness - we bagged the summit that wasn't the summit and were surely on our way to The Summit. By this point we were heading into a cloud and things got colder and wetter. But finally we reached Ben Vane's summit! The real summit!!

Woohoo! My tenth Munro - Ben Vane - conquered!!

Once more we didn't spend long at the top. It was pretty freezing and to be honest we were so hacked off with Ben Vane and its lies that we just wanted to get down. This Munro had been much tougher than I'd given it credit for - it may be the 282th Munro but starting at almost sea level meant that we'd come up a long way. I had enjoyed the ascent - up to a point. Unfortunately that point was not the top. Not even close.

"Let's get off this ******** mountain now" I thought.

"Let's get off this ******** mountain now" said Dave.

And so we began our descent. We picked our way down a better way than we'd come up. But we knew there would be scrambling to be done. So we flung our walking poles down as far as we could and set about the scamble.

I was worried and going more cautiously than I would normally. I finally admitted to Dave that I was really struggling with my hands - they were freezing and were no good to me trying to grip rock. I assumed Dave would be the same; forgetting that my circulation is pretty shocking, and his works like a normal person. In possibly the most romantically practical gesture ever he took my hands in his and within seconds the feeling returned! I could then use my hands to scramble down. Aww I got a bit soppy and emotional on Ben Vane - yet another emotionally charged Munro.

The descent was extremely painful, and this time we were so relieved to reach the boggy section! It was relief from the painful rockiness. We caught up with the four women, overtook them, and didn't see them again! Then we were back along the road and finally back to the car around 5 hours and 20 minutes after we'd started.

So pleased to have conquered Ben Vane. It was a tough yin.

I'm not sure when my next Munro will come (will it be this year?) but I'll try to keep blogging nonetheless. The spelling blog is coming along nicely: www.mondaytoothjuly.blogspot.co.uk

I'm off to the Yorkshire Dales next week on a work trip - with some walking thrown in, so I hope to blog after that. 

The rest of Dave and I's holiday was great by the way - stunning weather, cold crisp Autumnal days, blue skies, Loch Fyne Ales, Loch Fyne salmon, Inveraray Jail, stone skimming on the Isle of Easdale, McCaig's Folly, Duart Castle, Tobermory, Calgary Bay, Fionnphort, Staffa, Fingal's Cave, coming within metres of seal pups, Iona, beautiful white sandy beaches, gorgeous Scotland.