Mountain marathon Millie leaves 'em all limp
By Tom Waghorn
Six members of Manchester Karabiner Mountaineering Club have
astonished the climbing world with a "double" on the most gruelling
mountain trek in Britain.
One of the "overlanders" 38-year-old mother Mrs Millie Black, of
Stretford, became the first woman to join the exclusive club of fewer
than 20 men who have trudged the 95 miles and scaled the seven major
peaks of the "Scottish Fours" marathon. It took her 54 hours-two
nights and nearly three days tortured by thirst and sunburn, often in
energy sapping soft snow, bogs, and the roughest country imaginable.
Her 42-year-old husband Bowden and 43-year-old Derek Seddon, of
Cheadle accompanied her.
The idea was to climb the three 4,000ft summits in the Ben Nevis
group, tramp through some of the wildest glens and over the toughest
passes in Scotland and finish over the four 4,000ft summits of the
remotest Cairngorms.
Battered feet
Millie's team, who called themselves the "old-timers", slogged it out
from West to East. Their rivals the "young 'uns" walked from East to
West in 49½ hours. . . Bob Jones (22), of Haywood, Brian Ripley (22), of
Oldham, and Alan Barber (27), of Failsworth. Immediately after their
success Mr Black eased his bleeding feet in the plush new
Colyumbridge Hotel, near Aviemore, sipped a midnight coffee and told
me the highlights of the weekend in which he walked off half a stone,
Mr Seddon shed a stone. . And Millie gained a few pounds but not a
single blister.
We set off from Glen Nevis near Fort William, at 2pm on Saturday. The
sun was very hot trudging up Ben Nevis Eight hundred feet below the
summit we came on to unbroken fields of very wet and heavy snow. We
descended more very steep, wet snow and climbed Carn Mor Dearg and
Aonach Beg, also under soft snow.
We congratulated ourselves for completing the first three of the
Scottish 4,000ft peaks. We now had to walk halfway across Scotland to
climb the others. At the lonely shieling of Luibeilt, we had to cross
the river by a simple bridge. It consisted of two tight wires with
wooden battens stapled to them at six-inch intervals. There was
another wire for a handrail. I crept across step by step, Millie did
the same, and Derek strolled on as if it was Barton Bridge on the
M62. The foot wires swung one way and the hand wire the other with
Derek between the two vibrating like a harp in high wind. However,
after a few minutes the structure recovered and Derek managed to
creep off without a ducking.
All night
We walked right through the night without needing our torches, except
to check details on the map. We arrived at Loch Treig at about
midnight and then struck across the moor to meet the railway near
Corrour station. Miles of sodden moor and stony paths had taken toll
of skin and nails. The tin of plasters came in handy: so did the foot
balm. Millie and Derek were glad of a rest while I repaired my feet
near a shooting lodge. The walk up the Uisge Labhrach valley seemed
interminable. Mile after mile of rough moor with the path
disappearing every few minutes. Near the head of Loch Pattack, an
error of judgement cost us an hour on the worst bit of moor this side
of Bleaklow. There were Turk's' heads (grass tussocks) as big as coal
bunkers and peat groughs as soggy as treacle. This was followed by a
wade and carry across a river knee deep. We were three hours behind
our estimated time at Ben Alder lodge and our supporting driver Sam
Mahon. Who just had to sit and wait. In blistering heat, we walked
through Dalwhinnie to the junction of the Perth-Fort William roads.
We had completed the first half of the walk. As we shuffled in single
file down the side of the Spey Valley railway track, a shout from
across the river drew our attention and there was the rival party
looking as fresh as daisies. Dropping into Glen Feshie, it was after
midnight and we were very tired. We were forced into consciousness
when Millie asked, "What's that big lake down there?" Sure enough
just were it had no right to be, appeared to be a big lake. But the
mystery was solved when we had descended a few hundred yards. The
"lake" was caused by moon shining on light coloured, dew soaked
fields. We waded another river and had a doze before the last lap _
the Cairngorms. We left Achlean farm at 6am and dragged our
protesting bodies upwards. Up Cairn Toul and over Breariach. The
corries were plastered with huge snow slopes and cornices overhanging
by 20ft in some places.
Final agony
The deep valley of Lairig Ghru separated us from our last two
summits, Ben Macdhui, and Cairngorm. A wonderful, swooping glissade
in the snow took us down 1,000ft in a few minutes. We nearly went
down the wrong corrie before reaching the last peak. We finally stood
on it about 7.50pm on Monday after about 16,500ft of ascent and
descent.
We had walked on road tracks, paths, moors, bogs, snow, ice and
railway tracks. . and my feet remembered every stone. The walk down
Cairngorm to the car park was agony. I could have walked uphill on
skis quicker.
|
