23 Miler
When - 16th and 17th July 2005
Where - Around Glenmore and Breas, Isle of Skye, Scotland
Who - John Siwek
Account by John Siwek
With my birthday money I bought a Jungle Hammock from trek-direct which is run by a local bushcraft and survival instructor. It is a good quality, camouflaged, piece of kit originally made for the French Foreign Legion, so well up to Skye weather.
I wanted to test it out and had been looking at a walk that went in a loop from my house up the hill and into a wood near the 1st camping spot- I would camp there for the night- then in the morning I would go up the hill Andy and I went to on the 2nd trip (Stróc-bheinn), over to Skriaig, along Beinn na Greine, down to the road and back home.
This however didn’t quite work because as Guy Grieve- a Scotsman who abandoned everything in Scotland and went to live in the Alaskan bush for a year and succeeded, somebody I admire because of his determination when things went wrong and personal strength and attitude- said 'Always the first thing to go is the plan.'
The rest of my kit was really quite substandard. My jacket was not fully waterproof. My gloves were also not waterproof no matter what they claimed. My boots were not waterproof so I had to wear Sealskinz waterproof socks and my bag was a 40 litre, little, red rucksack that I had to lash a lot of my stuff, like sleeping bag and hammock, onto the back. Apart from that I was fine.
I set off a around 7pm. The bag was heavy and awkward. The weather was dry but a drizzly mist was threatening. I had been happily walking for around 45minutes before the mist started to encroach the hills. I was not too bothered by it at that stage hoping that the wind would sweep it away.
As I was nearing the forest when I hear something and then felt something solid hit the back of my leg. I suddenly felt very nervous, maybe there was something out there. I turned round but there was nothing there. Then I felt it again and looked down seeing my hammock hanging loose where I had connected it to my bag. I felt like a right idiot.
I reached the fence running parallel to the dense pine forest. I had a few weeks previously placed a stick in the fence at a point where there was a large enough gap in the trees for a hammock. Climbing over I entered the damp, dark of the forest. It had a harsh, unfriendly feel to it. As I splashed down the damp trail between the rows of trees I began to wonder if I should find a new place to sleep. I decided that it would take to long to find a decent place so I would just make do.
I laid out the hammock to find trees of the right distance. I found some but as I was trimming off some of the branches on one of the trees one of the branches fell off. I looked up to see it wobbled violently when I hit it. I had to find another one as I didn’t really want a tree spearing me in the night if it snapped. Luckily there were a few other trees that were sturdy and the right diameter.
By the time I had strung up the hammock it was dark in the forest. I went for a quite walk along the terrible forestry road beside the forest and called home. After that I went back and decided to go to sleep. The radio was not that great but I listened to it for a while until about 11pm. I slept for a while.
I awoke many time as I do when camping. There was silence, no wind, apart from the occasionally by a drop of water thumping on to the flysheet. I lay there until 4:15am when I gave up trying to sleep and got up. Eating a quick breakfast of bread and the traditional camping fare of Brunch Bars. My first night camping by myself was dull, not lonely as I did not mind being by myself, just dull. The radio at 4am is not very interesting.
I left the wood and walked down to the main road. Only a 4x4 pasted and I wondered what the driver though of a teenage guy walking out of a forest at a stupidly early time. I looked up at the hills I was aiming to climb. They were covered in thick mist and rain was coming in from the north. Not a good forecast but I continued on anyway.
I crossed the Varagill river and set off up the hill leading up to Stróc-bheinn. The dew was heavy and stuck to the shin deep grass. It quickly soaked me even through gaiters. I paused several times along the moor that separated Stróc-bheinn and the main road dodging bogs. Occasionally a indistinct form of a sheep would appear in the mist that I was heading deeper and deeper into. The sheep would regretfully rise up and wonder away from my wet, form striding through the bogs.
At that point I was still sure that I would be able to reach each of the hill tops that I was planning to hit. By 7am I was listening to Radio 1 where the DJ was reading out texts from people talking about the brilliant weather in England and people who were training for a marathon. It was not really helping my mood as the weather steadily got worse and I considered informing the DJ that not every where was so nice, but I didn’t.
I was getting closer to the top of the first hill when I called home. It was around 8:30am by that time and my mum answered. After the usual, 'Are you OK?', 'How was the hammock?', she said that I shouldn’t climb the hill if I think that the weather is too bad. I then had to explain that I had already been walking for 4hrs.
I continued on up to the top; or what I thought was the top. My map was not that easy to follow so I attempted to navigate by memory. So when at what I thought was the top I took a barring and set off. Unfortunately I was actually about 200meters from the top where there is a fake cairn so my barring started to head down the wrong part of the hill. The mist was so thick that there were no points of reference to guild by so it was almost impossible to navigate properly. I got further and further down until I realised that where I thought I was and where I actually was completely different. Nevertheless I was determined to reach the Skriaig masts. I walked around for 45mins or so never really getting any where. Mist is the most confusing weather to be in, meaning you can’t see anymore then about 50metres,at best, ahead of you.
It was really starting to get me down and the weather was not improving so I sat down to look at the map. I knew that no matter where I was on the hill that as long as I headed west that I would reach the Glenmore road. With that thought in mind I gave up trying to reach the masts and proceeded down the hill.
By following a fence I was led to a small grass road. It was connected to a farm on the Glenmore road about three quarters of the way down.
The rain was easing off to a fine drizzle. The radio show had changed so it was about 10 am. The radio kept me occupied for most of the way. I was determined to get home by my own two feet and not call for a lift.
I stopped for a short lunch of rice by the roadside two miles out of Portree. I didn’t do much to lift my moral and the midges weren’t much help either. I got up, arranged everything properly and heaved my bag onto my back. The rain then started to lash down soaking me more if that was physically possible.
I walked through Portree as quickly as possible aware that I still had five miles to walk. One miles out of Portree, just to make things worse, a small blister formed between two toes. After that I just started to get annoyed and when I.G. MacDonald stopped to ask me if I wanted a lift I decided yes. However because he was 30 metres away when he asked he misheard and drove off much to my annoyance. Then less than a mile away I was offered a lift again by a man who used to play the saxophone in the jazz band. I thought it would be pointless, as I was not very far away from the house. We talked about where I had walked and about the path that Andy and I had tried to find previously which he said he couldn’t find either. Later I was offered a lift only a hundred metres from my house.
I arrived home at last after having walked for nine hours that day and travelling 21 miles. I didn’t think of it as a bad camping trip but definitely not a good one.
Camping by yourself is different to camping with others; you are more concentrated on you aim- to get to where you want- so because of that you can push yourself and not have to worry about what everybody else wants to do and if you do something wrong nobody can blame you, only you can do that. You have completely rely on yourself in every aspect of living and that is satisfying. Although it has its advantages it also has its disadvantages too. If you get into trouble; fall and brake something or injure yourself in some other way it can be dangerous. Also its really quite dull one your own.
Camping enjoyment= 4/10
Walk difficulty= 4/10
Landscape= 3/10
Overall=4/10
Where - Around Glenmore and Breas, Isle of Skye, Scotland
Who - John Siwek
Account by John Siwek
With my birthday money I bought a Jungle Hammock from trek-direct which is run by a local bushcraft and survival instructor. It is a good quality, camouflaged, piece of kit originally made for the French Foreign Legion, so well up to Skye weather.
I wanted to test it out and had been looking at a walk that went in a loop from my house up the hill and into a wood near the 1st camping spot- I would camp there for the night- then in the morning I would go up the hill Andy and I went to on the 2nd trip (Stróc-bheinn), over to Skriaig, along Beinn na Greine, down to the road and back home.
This however didn’t quite work because as Guy Grieve- a Scotsman who abandoned everything in Scotland and went to live in the Alaskan bush for a year and succeeded, somebody I admire because of his determination when things went wrong and personal strength and attitude- said 'Always the first thing to go is the plan.'
The rest of my kit was really quite substandard. My jacket was not fully waterproof. My gloves were also not waterproof no matter what they claimed. My boots were not waterproof so I had to wear Sealskinz waterproof socks and my bag was a 40 litre, little, red rucksack that I had to lash a lot of my stuff, like sleeping bag and hammock, onto the back. Apart from that I was fine.
I set off a around 7pm. The bag was heavy and awkward. The weather was dry but a drizzly mist was threatening. I had been happily walking for around 45minutes before the mist started to encroach the hills. I was not too bothered by it at that stage hoping that the wind would sweep it away.
As I was nearing the forest when I hear something and then felt something solid hit the back of my leg. I suddenly felt very nervous, maybe there was something out there. I turned round but there was nothing there. Then I felt it again and looked down seeing my hammock hanging loose where I had connected it to my bag. I felt like a right idiot.
I reached the fence running parallel to the dense pine forest. I had a few weeks previously placed a stick in the fence at a point where there was a large enough gap in the trees for a hammock. Climbing over I entered the damp, dark of the forest. It had a harsh, unfriendly feel to it. As I splashed down the damp trail between the rows of trees I began to wonder if I should find a new place to sleep. I decided that it would take to long to find a decent place so I would just make do.
I laid out the hammock to find trees of the right distance. I found some but as I was trimming off some of the branches on one of the trees one of the branches fell off. I looked up to see it wobbled violently when I hit it. I had to find another one as I didn’t really want a tree spearing me in the night if it snapped. Luckily there were a few other trees that were sturdy and the right diameter.
By the time I had strung up the hammock it was dark in the forest. I went for a quite walk along the terrible forestry road beside the forest and called home. After that I went back and decided to go to sleep. The radio was not that great but I listened to it for a while until about 11pm. I slept for a while.
I awoke many time as I do when camping. There was silence, no wind, apart from the occasionally by a drop of water thumping on to the flysheet. I lay there until 4:15am when I gave up trying to sleep and got up. Eating a quick breakfast of bread and the traditional camping fare of Brunch Bars. My first night camping by myself was dull, not lonely as I did not mind being by myself, just dull. The radio at 4am is not very interesting.
I left the wood and walked down to the main road. Only a 4x4 pasted and I wondered what the driver though of a teenage guy walking out of a forest at a stupidly early time. I looked up at the hills I was aiming to climb. They were covered in thick mist and rain was coming in from the north. Not a good forecast but I continued on anyway.
I crossed the Varagill river and set off up the hill leading up to Stróc-bheinn. The dew was heavy and stuck to the shin deep grass. It quickly soaked me even through gaiters. I paused several times along the moor that separated Stróc-bheinn and the main road dodging bogs. Occasionally a indistinct form of a sheep would appear in the mist that I was heading deeper and deeper into. The sheep would regretfully rise up and wonder away from my wet, form striding through the bogs.
At that point I was still sure that I would be able to reach each of the hill tops that I was planning to hit. By 7am I was listening to Radio 1 where the DJ was reading out texts from people talking about the brilliant weather in England and people who were training for a marathon. It was not really helping my mood as the weather steadily got worse and I considered informing the DJ that not every where was so nice, but I didn’t.
I was getting closer to the top of the first hill when I called home. It was around 8:30am by that time and my mum answered. After the usual, 'Are you OK?', 'How was the hammock?', she said that I shouldn’t climb the hill if I think that the weather is too bad. I then had to explain that I had already been walking for 4hrs.
I continued on up to the top; or what I thought was the top. My map was not that easy to follow so I attempted to navigate by memory. So when at what I thought was the top I took a barring and set off. Unfortunately I was actually about 200meters from the top where there is a fake cairn so my barring started to head down the wrong part of the hill. The mist was so thick that there were no points of reference to guild by so it was almost impossible to navigate properly. I got further and further down until I realised that where I thought I was and where I actually was completely different. Nevertheless I was determined to reach the Skriaig masts. I walked around for 45mins or so never really getting any where. Mist is the most confusing weather to be in, meaning you can’t see anymore then about 50metres,at best, ahead of you.
It was really starting to get me down and the weather was not improving so I sat down to look at the map. I knew that no matter where I was on the hill that as long as I headed west that I would reach the Glenmore road. With that thought in mind I gave up trying to reach the masts and proceeded down the hill.
By following a fence I was led to a small grass road. It was connected to a farm on the Glenmore road about three quarters of the way down.
The rain was easing off to a fine drizzle. The radio show had changed so it was about 10 am. The radio kept me occupied for most of the way. I was determined to get home by my own two feet and not call for a lift.
I stopped for a short lunch of rice by the roadside two miles out of Portree. I didn’t do much to lift my moral and the midges weren’t much help either. I got up, arranged everything properly and heaved my bag onto my back. The rain then started to lash down soaking me more if that was physically possible.
I walked through Portree as quickly as possible aware that I still had five miles to walk. One miles out of Portree, just to make things worse, a small blister formed between two toes. After that I just started to get annoyed and when I.G. MacDonald stopped to ask me if I wanted a lift I decided yes. However because he was 30 metres away when he asked he misheard and drove off much to my annoyance. Then less than a mile away I was offered a lift again by a man who used to play the saxophone in the jazz band. I thought it would be pointless, as I was not very far away from the house. We talked about where I had walked and about the path that Andy and I had tried to find previously which he said he couldn’t find either. Later I was offered a lift only a hundred metres from my house.
I arrived home at last after having walked for nine hours that day and travelling 21 miles. I didn’t think of it as a bad camping trip but definitely not a good one.
Camping by yourself is different to camping with others; you are more concentrated on you aim- to get to where you want- so because of that you can push yourself and not have to worry about what everybody else wants to do and if you do something wrong nobody can blame you, only you can do that. You have completely rely on yourself in every aspect of living and that is satisfying. Although it has its advantages it also has its disadvantages too. If you get into trouble; fall and brake something or injure yourself in some other way it can be dangerous. Also its really quite dull one your own.
Camping enjoyment= 4/10
Walk difficulty= 4/10
Landscape= 3/10
Overall=4/10