Tuesday 29 August
It was approaching 4pm by the time I got out the door for the only hill I'd put on the agenda for yesterday (and not without a great deal of indecision as to which hill alongside the A9 to choose).
It was approaching 4pm by the time I got out the door for the only hill I'd put on the agenda for yesterday (and not without a great deal of indecision as to which hill alongside the A9 to choose).
The Visitor Centre car park at Loch of Lowes, just outside of Dunkeld, was my start point (and my intended end point too...) from where a gentle route took me, through woodland, around to Dean's Burn on the west side of the hill. An old track past a mast became a trod and then I came out onto the open hillside. Exactly as the map had suggested would be the case, the going from there was rough. Heather, bracken, reeds and bog featured.
The top was a good viewpoint and from there I considered a more direct route back, before deciding that less yomping and more track would be the more efficient route, particularly as I could run down the grass centres of the tracks.
I was merrily running along when a gate appeared before me, exactly as it had on my outward route (albeit I most definitely wasn't running on the way up!) and, as I re-fastened it, I said a brief hello to the woman loitering the other side. Then I barrelled down the hill a bit (but not much) further before it struck me that I didn't remember walking up anything of the same gradient on my outward leg. That was followed swiftly by the recollection that I was meant to turn back on myself almost immediately after the gate. I'd not been looking out for the turn and didn't notice it at all.
I could have turned back, as I can't have gone more than a couple of hundred metres adrift, but given the knowledge that both Mick and I had phone reception and that there was a road just ahead of me, I took the much quicker option: I asked Mick to meet me on the other side of the hill. And after asking, quite incredulously, how I'd managed to descend the wrong side of the hill, he willingly complied.
The stats came in at 3.9 miles with around 700' of ascent.
The top was a good viewpoint and from there I considered a more direct route back, before deciding that less yomping and more track would be the more efficient route, particularly as I could run down the grass centres of the tracks.
I was merrily running along when a gate appeared before me, exactly as it had on my outward route (albeit I most definitely wasn't running on the way up!) and, as I re-fastened it, I said a brief hello to the woman loitering the other side. Then I barrelled down the hill a bit (but not much) further before it struck me that I didn't remember walking up anything of the same gradient on my outward leg. That was followed swiftly by the recollection that I was meant to turn back on myself almost immediately after the gate. I'd not been looking out for the turn and didn't notice it at all.
I could have turned back, as I can't have gone more than a couple of hundred metres adrift, but given the knowledge that both Mick and I had phone reception and that there was a road just ahead of me, I took the much quicker option: I asked Mick to meet me on the other side of the hill. And after asking, quite incredulously, how I'd managed to descend the wrong side of the hill, he willingly complied.
The stats came in at 3.9 miles with around 700' of ascent.
Always important, if you're going to have your bra strap peeking out on display, to colour co-ordinate with your sunglasses, I think!
Yup, always co-ordinate your bra and pants. Always. Koff.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, I'd never step out of the house unless so co-ordinated (Koff, koff). The bra and sunglasses co-ordination is just taking it to a whole new level.
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