Laggan to Kingussie – Good Highland Rambling

I do love Scotland, particularly the Highlands. My daughters bought Maggie and I a DNA test for Christmas and presented the results after dinner.

They showed that I was wanted in four countries for motoring offences! It’s not my fault that their speed limits are too low.

Anyway I’m 14% Scottish and Maggie is 19%. That explains it then! I’m a bit Welsh, a bit more Viking and a lot English, based around Sheffield. Yes…..it is that detailed and targeted. Amazing.

A good sleep in the Laggan Hotel, it was freezing again and I was running out of food so all in all, since there are no shops, the Hotel was a good call. One of my chums at Sheffield United is an ex- Coldstream Guard. He’ll love this photo from the hotel.

The day was cold but dry as I pushed off across country, trying to keep on the path through forests where recent storms had uprooted many of the trees, blocking a clear route. So I headed for the edge of the forest to take my chances walking across marshland to the higher land that I was aiming for.

It was a mile long swamp but my amazing Meindl boots kept out the water and warmed my tootsies. First time with German boots, I think I’ll call them Adolf and Eva. No it’s not an oblique reference to the Second World War. That would be dated and a reflection of the views of some kind of Leave voting, archaic, soon to be extinct dinosaur. Some of my best friends are German. There was that taxi driver in Hanau Steinheim, nice bloke. Yes, I know he was Turkish I’m not daft, but he worked in Germany! Then there’s that comedian Henning summat. Yes, I know he’s not my mate but he makes me laugh when he’s on the telly. Particularly when he tells jokes about the war and that.

I made it to higher ground and found the track up to the head of the Glen.

Just to clarify the remoteness. I’m venturing a few miles at a time into the Monadhliath mountain range and seeing nobody all day. Silence. But this is a 700 square mile wilderness where nobody lives apart from Golden Eagles and Deer. A mountain range as big as Surrey that nobody has ever heard of. But it is valuable land even in its anonymity. This is controlled burning of swathes of heather to aid regeneration and healthy growth of the grouse population so that they can be shot by rich folk paying thousands for the privilege. And the deer need their numbers controlling. Christ knows why because I’ve only seen three, but rich folk pay thousands to shoot them.

There are deserted properties, in remote places, called bothies. These are usually old farm buildings that are maintained occasionally by a Scottish Association and can be used, free of charge by walkers needing shelter from the weather or somewhere to sleep. I’ve slept in a couple and rested in many more, but this little gem was one of the best I’ve seen. Dalnashallag bothy will have saved many folk from frostbite and hypothermia over many years.

I love the comments folk leave.

I meant the one by Matt and Vic!

Pushing on down the Glen towards Newtonmore there is no path and you have to negotiate the crossing of a river and numerous streams. It was fortunate that only melted snow was pouring down rather than days of rain. The East Highland Way website warns that these streams are uncrossable after heavy rainfall.

A cold wind funnelled up the open Glen, biting in to my chest, face and hands. My legs seem immune from cold, even though I only wear shorts. But the rest of me can feel a slow return to winter from what has been a remarkable series of sunny Spring days. Days I’ll remember all my life. Thanks Ray. And Kirsty, of impeccable lineage and gifted voice taken far too early.

Cold wind or not, when the sun comes out life is transformed.

After nine miles of slog a proper track took weary walkers down to Newtonmore, and I am going to be one of that number.

Stopping for a pint and a packet of crisps in the village I warmed up in the local hotel, girding my loins…yes it’s ok to say that…..girding my loins…..it comes from the chuffin Bible and you can’t be on safer ground than that…. girding my loins for the last stretch to Kingussie before the snow. And my bollocks.

You just can’t resist it can you. No question mark needed.

Look at this. Newtonmore Hall with a Saltire – fair play – and a cash sign. I’m not surprised with the cost of a pint of beer and a bag of crisps. Kerching.

Cold wind and cloud have an inevitable outcome in this neck of the woods.

And finally I’m in Kingussie and staying in the Duke of Gordon hotel. I know wild camping is interesting and exciting but trust me, snow is on the way!

Christ my shoulders are hurting from that rucksack.

Be reyt after fish and chips and a good kip.

Night night.