Second Hill

I’d been to the Lake District before as part of a school trip. We’d climbed a few hills... but I couldn’t remember them, partly because of an outbreak of salmonella and partly because I was a teenager and not able to concentrate on anything other than girls, football and not getting hit. That disastrous trip to Snowdon had taught me something about being prepared. I now had a rucksack and, courtesy of Webberley’s of Hanley, appropriate maps and books on Lake District walks by Terry Marsh.

We decided on walk 4.4 – Red Pike, High Stile and High Crag from Buttermere. The car park was easy to find and so was the start of the walk, but somehow we managed to lose the path (years later I would laugh at an over-equipped walker on Coniston asking where the path was, when he was standing on it, yet there I was, having lost a 3 feet wide path). So we cut straight up the hillside and came across the path near to the tarn. I hadn’t learned how to pace myself – I kept charging off at full speed, getting out of breath and then having to stop. Meanwhile, children, pensioners, everyone else, overtook me. We eventually made it to the summit and took out our well-earned lunch. But I was wearing (and continued to do this for quite a few hills) a cotton shirt, soaked from my exertions and the wind on the ridge made me go cold very quickly. So we didn’t really stop until we were back at the car.

I’ve done this walk a couple of times since and thought: what was all the fuss about? Why did it feel like such a marathon? Wasn’t I young and fit? It was, nevertheless, a wonderful day, with great views and we were now addicted to hillwalking forever. There were lots of people around though – maybe Scotland would give us a greater sense of wilderness.

Ceilidh Place, Ullapool

A few weeks ago the greatness of the Ceilidh Place was reinforced by trying somewhere else to eat and drink in Ullapool. We had peeped into the Ceilidh Place but it seemed full. We only wanted a drink and all the tables seemed laid out for evening meals. So we thought we would try somewhere else. Along the road we went to the Caledonian Hotel. We found a table, had a look at the menu and went to the bar to order from the surly barman (he was there last time we tried this place a few years ago, we should have realised the futility of this adventure the moment we saw him).

“Two coffees please”

“We don’t do coffee”

“But it says you do on the menu”

“Machine’s broke”

“How about tea?”

“Machine’s broke”

Not a single smile or apology from the barman, just the general impression that the sooner we were out of his bar the better. So we obliged. 

We went back to the Ceilidh Place:

“Do you mind if we just have a drink?”

“Of course not, sit where you like and I’ll come and take your order”

The Celidh Place is the place to sit, eat and drink in Ullapool, in the whole of Scotland as far as I’m concerned. We’ve been going there for 25 years or so and their high standards have always been maintained. Great entertainment, excellent food, friendly, polite service, a fantastic log fire in winter, a bookshop open all night, relaxing accommodation. That’s why our house has 2 Ceilidh Place mugs and 3 T shirts, but none from the Caledonian.

Food – excellent

Service – excellent

Atmosphere – perfect

Accommodation – quiet and relaxing with a wonderful lounge to read in

First hill

I consider myself to be a fairly experienced hillwalker these days, but it wasn't always so. In the early 1980s we set out on a big adventure to Snowdon. You can tell it was a long time ago as there was plenty of space to park at Pen-y-Pass. We had no food or drink, a map but no compass. I'd recently bought a Lord Anthony coat from C&A. It covered some of my jeans. We set out on the Miners track but lost our way in mist after Glaslyn. We headed directly up the slope. We were young and fit so it seemed easy enough. Then the rain came and, near the ridge the most horrendous summit wind. Time for a hasty retreat. But that easy slope now seemed steep and slippery. So down on our bums we went. Luckily, we saw a group of walkers and followed them back to the car park. I was soaked and never wore that coat again. But I was hooked. Wales was too wet, how about the Lake District?