Temper Tantrums on the Pap of Glencoe

I would introduce myself but you can check my profile so there is no point. I would, however, say that I think I was designed to be laughed at. Tall, thin and incredibly clumsy, I trip over my feet all the time and spend more time on my arse than is decent.

I probably don't have to look far to find some incident in my life that is entertaining but I thought the best time is back in July when I went on holiday to Scotland with my husband and two daughters and we decided to climb the Pap of Glencoe. Now I was severely mentally scarred by this at the time and I have only just begun to come to terms with what transpired during the day and that is why I have chosen now to blog about it.

The Pap of Glencoe was across Loch Leven from Tiramisu Lodge (where we stayed) and is a beautiful mountain. I've included a photo so you can see for yourselves.

Yes, not the clearest photo but I hope you get the picture.

Well, we set off, relatively early, full of hope and expectation. Butties and drinks in the backpacks and a spring in our step. Actually, we went in the car, so any springs were in the shock absorbers. We parked up and my husband consulted his trusty map, pointed back towards the road and said "This way!" Actually, he didn't but it sounds good, doesn't it?

We hiked along the road a little way and then after further consultation of the map, we struck off left onto a footpath. We did a sort of large zigzag - more a z-shape than a true zigzag and started climbing. To my horror, my older daughter started getting short of breath and she had not brought her inhaler. I was sympathetic to her for about 5 minutes and then lost patience and struck off up the slope like the intrepid climber I am.

Here is another picture. I can assure you my husband and two daughters are going uphill, not down. I'm just a poor photographer.

So we carried on climbing for a while and at nearly midday, my hard taskmaster of a husband allowed us to stop to take a short break and to take on some fluids. The view was getting good by now and it was pleasant to stop but I was feeling more and more like a mountain goat and was anxious to be on my way. Our daughters on the other hand were both moaning volubly, complaining about their asthma and generally being wimps. (I would like to reassure you at this point that neither had an asthma attack on the mountain and both got down again in considerably better shape than I did.)

Time for another slide, methinks.

This is the view back down to Loch Leven on its way out to the sea. Beautiful, isn't it?
By this time, my husband had been able to convince the girls that he wasn't impressed with them and anxious as they were not to cause any more friction, they carried on up the hill like a couple of rabbits with rockets up their arses. We carried on at a more leisurely pace.

At the top of the hill is the Pap, apparently shaped like a nipple (actually, I can see the resemblance). This is harder rock projecting above the softer material that has eroded away over the years. It makes a nice scramble... most of the way. Time for another slide. This time it is of the view up the Loch towards Kinlochleven, which is the small settlement just above the centre of the photo at the right hand side.

Unfortunately, we are coming to the point where things started to get nasty. First of all, I had to negotiate the Pap, which, as I said before, was mostly a nice scramble. There was one moment where my fear of heights got the better of me and I froze on what seemed like a sheer rockface. It wasn't. I was just being a wuss. My husband very kindly talked me through getting across the gap (it seemed more like a chasm at the time) and even offered to catch me if I fell. I took my courage in my hands and stepped across. One little victory for me.

From there, it was a relative quick and easy scramble to the summit. At the top of the Pap, we found shelter amongst the rocks and ate our dinner. Always a favourite part of a walk for me. I find that the further I go, the hungrier I get. After I've eaten, the further I go, the more my knees hurt. That is actually very significant to this story.

It is at this point that my husband made a serious error. He completely under-estimated my wussiness and decided to come down the sheer north wall of the Pap of Glencoe. This was actually previously uncharted territory and even the sheep saw it as a no-no.

At first, it was not too bad. Steep, yeah, but I could handle it. I just couldn't keep up. I've never been able to keep up coming down a mountain or hill. My knees are just not as efficient as those of the other members of my family. My husband seemed to take delight in disappearing into the distance and try as I might, I could not lessen the distance between us.

We then came to a part which might be called a scramble by a dangerously over-optimistic rock-climber. I call it potential homicide/suicide. The rocks were sharp and well and we all suffered cuts. Some stupid bugger had forgotten to pack any plasters and I let my cut bleed... everywhere. Eventually, after losing about 2 pints of blood, it clotted.

After the sharp rocks came the waist high heather and bracken, the pot holes and hidden streams. I was beginning to feel the strain quite badly now as the hillside was still horribly steep and I was losing my footing all the time.

By this time I was wallowing in despair and wishing I could break my leg or something so that Mountain Rescue could come and rescue me and give my husband a good ticking off into the bargain.

I didn't break my leg and I had to carry on down unassisted. I kept slipping over and from time to time, it seemed a better option to slide down on my arse. At one point, I not only tripped but also rolled down the hillside by a full 360 degrees. My husband very heartlessly shouted "What has she found to trip over now?" I started planning his murder immediately.

After much crying (yes, I cried like a baby, sat down, refused to go on, got up again, fell over again, slid down on my arse again and generally felt and looked a complete arse) we got to a path. I thought my ordeal was at an end and maybe if I had listened to my husband and walked the relatively short distance to the road and sat down, it might have been. Instead, I didn't trust him not to leave me there and take the girls home, I walked along the path back to the car. I should point out at this point that my knees were still in good shape. The rest of me was in dreadful shape.

This was not a short path and there were some very steep bits in some woods where I nearly gave up again but eventually, after what seemed like years, we got back to the car. I took my boots off, vowing that I would burn them to ashes when I got home, and put my trainers on. I ratcheted my back up to upright again and sat down in the passenger seat with the intention of never getting out again.

My husband is a sadist and made me go into a convenience shop in Glencoe to get some stuff for tea. I got some cheap bubble bath there as well. I should say that when I got out of the car, I was so stiff all over that I looked like an elderly and disabled woman.

When we got back to Tiramisu Lodge, I bagsied the bath and ran myself a bubble bath. When I stripped off to get in it, I found blueberry stains on my knickers and pieces of heather (definitely not lucky heather) inside them. I also ran all the hot water off (serve the bastards right for laughing at me). My husband cooked tea and had the temerity to hug me before I'd even finished plotting his murder.

After tea and probably the washing up and some telly and hopefully some wine (I really don't remember now) we went to bed. I was stiff and aching all over. The next day, we went on a steam train to Mallaig where I had the best fish and chips I have ever eaten. I was still stiff and still could have passed for an old lady with rheumatoid arthritis (my Mum had it so I know how it looks).

There is one final slide, taken on the way up when I was still full of optimism about the walk. We found a dragonfly on the path and my husband and I (how regal I sound) both took photos. Mine was much better because I'd worked out the macro setting on my camera. Here it is.

Okay, I wouldn't win any prizes but his was not as good as mine!

There we are then. My triumphant climb up the Pap of Glencoe and my positively embarrassing descent down it. I hope you enjoyed reading this more than I did doing it.