In spite of the FMD restrictions, visits to the hills continued on a fairly regular basis, with pretty much the same frequency as in the past few years. During the FMD outbreak it was mainly a case of tackling hills north of the central belt, hills which could be termed as not amongst the most popular. Routes were carefully chosen to avoid habitation and obvious points of access. The scope for hill days where one never encounters another soul is vast, especially when heading for hills below Munro height. Much as I enjoy being in good company, it has to be said that many of the finest experiences in the hills have been when on my own. A lone walker is far less likely to attract attention than when part of a large group; definitely a benefit during FMD when trying to avoid 'keep out' signs. However, one tell-tale sign of one's presence, which is difficult to hide, has to be the lone vehicle at the foot of the hill.
During a visit to Mull over Easter, I happened to return to my vehicle after enjoying a fine short day on Beinn Fhada. Just as I had unlocked and lifted the hatch, another vehicle swiftly drew up behind and, had it stopped any closer, could well have pinned my legs to the rear bumper. The two occupants hastily jumped out of their 4x4, flashed their badges, and announced that they were from Strathclyde Police. Strange to note that FMD and hillwalking were scarcely given a mention. Apparently my car had already been noticed parked in various isolated locations on the island, and this time they had decided to await the return of the driver. I was advised that there were some rare nesting birds on Mull, and this had led them to believe I may have been an egg collector. I was tempted to make light of the situation, but thought better of it as the more talkative of the two clearly took his work much too seriously.
One of the highlights of the year was a week on Skye at the end of March. When checking in at two of the island's youth hostels, both wardens happened to make similar comments such as 'and of course you won't be here to do any walking?' (FMD dominated news at the time). Whilst neither confirming nor denying that point, I explained that I was on the island to take photographs (I didn't care to elaborate that they would mostly be taken from above the 2000ft contour). And what a week it turned out to be for photography - pale blue skies, a touch of ground frost, a dusting of snow on the higher peaks, and a clear sharp visibility extending over many miles. Not another soul was encountered on the hills during that visit.
Another day that stands out vividly from the Easter fortnight on Islay, Jura and Mull has to be that spent tackling the Paps of Jura. Not being one who regularly uses B&B establishments, I made an exception on Jura and stayed with Mrs Mack at Knockrome. Highly recommended. Waking around 2am to find the bedroom illuminated, I drew back the curtain to witness a near full moon with the dark outline of the Paps in perfect silhouette. Surely a good omen for the morning. After a hefty breakfast I set out for the Paps, keeping at first to the south bank of the Corran River. A 'No Hillwalking' sign was clearly visible at the start of the walk. However, the sign was on the north bank. It was a day reminiscent of my earlier visit to Skye, one of those exceptional days of unbroken sunshine and amazing clarity - a real day to savour.
The position was somewhat different in July during a short trip to Rum. Even in the height of summer, or should I say the summer season, the weather can be so fickle. And so it was on Rum when the weather turned out to be the exact opposite to the forecast. Not a desperately bad day, but not one associated with summer. Indeed, had it not been for a chance meeting with a friend whilst crossing over to Rum on the Calmac ferry, I would doubtless have spent a leisurely day around Kinloch. The traverse of the Rum Cuillin was in itself a very satisfying day - definitely hills of immense character, and enjoyed in good company - but I'll have to return some day and stay awhile longer, with a clear dry day to savour those views.
Askival, Rum
Hottest days of the year had to be 7-9 May - three delightful days spent on An Ruadh-Stac, Fuar Tholl and Beinn Damh. Access from Torridon was unproblematic, with the Comeback Code posted, disinfectant footbaths and brushes provided. However the southern approach was a different matter. Yes, it was possible to walk from Annat to Coulags, but a sign at Coulags made it clear walkers were not welcome. The sign at Achnashellach advised that the route to Annat was 'open', yet the branch path leading to the bealach between Sgorr Ruadh and Fuar Tholl was 'closed.' Why? Lest walkers descend and return by way of Coulags? Had it been the stalking season with a notice posted to the effect that stalking was taking place on a given hill on a given day, then fine, I would seek an alternative.
Furthermore, at the start of more and more tracks, signs are appearing excluding bicycles or, more specifically, mountain bikes. What possible harm is there riding a bike on a track designed for a motor vehicle? Whilst not wishing to seek confrontation with any landowner, I ignored the Achnashellach sign, followed the stalker's path to the bealach south of Sgorr Ruadh, and enjoyed a hot, sticky, but nevertheless wonderful day on Fuar Tholl. It was one of those rare days when a stop was made at practically every hill burn, both to quench an insatiable thirst and to soak the sunhat and feel the relief from cool water dripping off the brim down one's neck.
Luckiest day of 2001 was 14 July on Sgurr Innse. Lunch was taken a short distance below the summit cairn in a sheltered spot out of the cool breeze. Whilst munching on a sandwich, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a coin partly hidden below a nearby rock. Sure enough, on lifting the rock, not only was there the coin I had noticed, but an assortment of eight rather discoloured coins totalling £2.77. Now there's a number - the pre-1997 Munro total. Then again, Sgurr Innse is not a Munro and never has been.
In spite of their appearance, none of the coins were very old, with the most recent dated 1996. Someone's loss was clearly my gain. Strange to relate, but were the coins actually lost? It's possible that perhaps a couple of coins could fall out of a pocket and roll under the same rock. However, apart from the one coin, which had first caught my attention, the others weren't brought to light until the rock was lifted. Therefore, the coins must have been placed there, then covered over. The question remains - when, by whom, and for what reason? Yet another hill mystery.
