After a day in which we climbed six Munro summits and tops along the north Mullardoch ridge, we descended to an excellent campsite at 735 metres - at NH 172 351. The tumbling stream pictured provided a contrast with the previous night's complete silence, but we slept well again.
On a beautiful spring day in the Wirral, I was joined by Graeme, Keith and Carol, Judith, who lives locally, and Philip, who I last saw nearly twenty years ago and who has been threatening to come on one of these walks ever since he retired a couple of years ago. I'm glad he enjoyed the outing.
We started this route from Jen Darling's 'West Cheshire and Wirral' book (another route that I'm checking for an updated edition) from Station Road in Burton, where you can park beside the Dee estuary and admire the views over to Moel Famau, some twelve miles away in the Clwydian hills.
We strolled along the road to the picturesque village of Burton, passing the RSPB's Burton Point Farm, and pausing at the pretty and well maintained copse (pictured above - click on any image for a better version/slideshow) where an ancient spring was originally called 'Patrick's Well, but by the 19th century it had become known as Hampston's Well, after a family that had lived in Burton since the 16th century.
The water here possibly served Iron Age settlements, then Anglo-Saxons around 900AD. More recently, records indicate that it was cleaned each year, and able-bodied men were required to help, or be fined sixpence!
There are some lovely cottages in Burton.
On this Challenge (my 9th) with Sue (her 4th), we set off in fine weather from Dornie, and enjoyed an eight hour walk, via Iron Lodge and over Carn na Breabaig, to Coire na Breabaig (NH 072 308) at about 500 metres.
As dusk fell, we enjoyed superb views towards tomorrow's objective, the North Mullardoch Ridge.
Saturday 26 July 1980 - diarist: Dave - Formarinsee to Bludenz
Nick, as usual, was up very early and went outside the tent to prepare breakfast. I found that eating breakfast outside was far easier than in a sleeping bag.
The other tent got up in their usual slow and leisurely way, and took down their tent even more slowly. [Due to lack of urgency on the part of the sun, in drying the tent, and us, as we favoured lingering at this final high level site - M]
Because Ruaridh
was going his own way to join his parents in
Martin soon left the gang of four for a boy stop, the bran in our Home Mixed Super Muesli having got to him in record time. We then set off over the snow (the last of the holiday) and dropped below the 2000 metre mark for the last time. The sun became very hot. It was then revealed by the Hike Planning Sub-committee that we had a 600 metre climb to face, and that in our usual topsy-turvy fashion this would be when the sun was at its hottest.
Dave and Colin
raced down a snow slope (no deep holes this time). We crossed a stream and
walked down into the valley, the sun getting hotter and hotter. Lots of photo
stops.
We came to a village,
which although it looked pleasant enough at present, is no doubt very tough
living here in winter. There were lots of stacks of logs in evidence. Nick saw
an old man with a very long pipe which impressed him. We then carried on down hill,
getting hotter all the time.
We found some
goats who didn't seem at all camera shy - many pictures for everyone. Colin
managed to induce one to feed from his hand and poo at the same time.
We continued on down
the hill. Dave decided that he was (as usual) hungry and concluded that we ought
to have dinner before we left the shade of a forest. Amazingly, the others
agreed to this very sensible suggestion. The only rational explanation of this
is that they had all been zapped by the sun. We stopped for about an hour,
having our bread and cheese and a brew. At this point a butterfly got attracted
to Dave's silly yellow hat and landed on it. It was assumed that it mistook the
hat for a flower and Dave was urged by Colin to do flower impressions whilst he
got his camera prepared. However, Colin's blunderings as he tried to get into a
good position frightened the butterfly away.
We set off again past a strange wooden construction which Nick investigated at length and found to be a triangulation station. We then reached the bottom of the valley and crossed the stream, which at this point resembled Cheddar Gorge. We then set off up the hill. Of course, at this point the sun was at its hottest, and Martin began muttering about how foolish we had been taking the low route when we could have done the high one. On the lower part of the climb the heat became unbearable. This didn't seem to affect Nick, who charged off as usual. Dave of course lagged behind. Fortunately a large slow-moving cloud now blotted out the sun, and the rest of the climb was done in a relatively cool atmosphere.
We stopped for
water near the top, and it soon became obvious that Colin was suffering from
the heat. He had a towel draped around his neck and handkerchiefs on his head.
Martin seemed to be almost absolutely knackered. And so we started a very slow,
hot, sticky descent into Bludenz. On the way, Dave (charging on ahead) had a
sort of conversation with some (Austrians?) in German, English and sign
language. It appeared that they were making for the Freiburger Hutte. Considering
it had taken us seven hours and it was now 4 pm, I would have expected them to
look a little more concerned. Perhaps they knew a short cut? The high route?
The path down was a long series of hairpin bends with the occasional very steep path cutting off the corners. It was a big effort to stop yourself going down too fast. We had a rest half way down but completed the last section very quickly. After a quick trog through a field we were in the town and soon found the campsite. The proprietor was very helpful and directed us in English to our site.
The tents were quickly put up in the familiar L-shape by Dave and Martin. We then went for a wash. Most of the people in the washroom appeared to be English - they seemed a rather smooth looking lot. They even had towels and flannels. After much confusion involving the men's/women's washrooms and a rationing of shampoo, a much cleaner group set off to the town to find out where the railway station was, and to find somewhere to eat. Martin got worried about the restaurants closing and got ratty with Nick and Colin who tended to dawdle a bit, looking in shop windows, etc.
We eventually ate
at the first place we had looked at. In the hot evening it was pleasant to eat
outside with a couple of beers. We all had a soup - the fried pea soup was
unusual, and a meat course which was supposed to be typical Austrian but
appeared to be the English meat and two veg type. After the meal we went back
to the campsite, where there was more toilet identity confusion and Dave
discovered that ladies get proper toilets whilst he has to squat above a hole.
Anyway, I hope
this long and boring diary entry makes up for the supposedly inadequate
previous one!
Sunday
27 July 1980 - diarist: Nick - Bludenz to
There were lots of thunderings and walkabouts in the night - for once this was not the exclusive privilege of this diarist. Dave's tent luckily did not leak this time during the resultant heavy rainstorm, despite the river which suddenly appeared from beneath his rucksack at about 3:45 am. (Was this Martin's water bottle leaking?) We wondered whether we might need to evacuate the tents in favour of the nearby rusting hulk of a lorry, but were discouraged by a sudden crash of thunder immediately overhead. At last, to sleep - very hot but cooling after the gewittering.
We rose and shone to 'Rise and Shine' orange juice quite lately at about 8:15. A second wash in 24 hours was had by some, then off to the Bludenz bahnhof after calling in at the shop for essential supplies (beer and lots of locally manufactured 'Suchard' chocolate).
We had been woken at about 7 o'clock by church bells ringing, accompanied by a local dog howling. These had continued every 15 minutes and were still going when we left. The Austrians appear to be very religious judging by the number of wayside shrines and crucifixes, and on Sunday mornings they all dress up in their best togs just like in the picture books.
In spite of Colin's
phrasebook, due to a misunderstanding I managed to buy return tickets at the
first attempt. This mistake was soon corrected, but rather painstakingly as each
ticket must be separately written out and stapled in its own little folder. The
cost was 208 schillings (£7) each. A quick 'ss tut mis leid' sorted things out. It
was established that we must change at Sargans.
The train was late and full. We were stuck in between carriages and blocked the toilet with our rucksacks. I was first accosted by Yugoslavians with interesting looking drinks, and then went to talk to two young Swedes who were interrailing. The others antisocially kept to themselves and 'read' the sports pages of my 'Der Bild'.
After putting
our watches back and changing at Sargans, we boarded an even more crowded train
to
Views were very similar to those on our way out. The weather, however, was a lot hotter and there were many sun worshippers on the shore of the Zurichsee.
On arriving at
the
I surrendered my passport in exchange for two numbered discs to be hung on the tents. These were to be collected in the morning after 7:30 am.
A late lunch was
eventually gratefully eaten - bread, tomato, and an unnamed cheese, very good,
purchased respectively in Bludenz,
It was
oppressively hot - I wished I had a clean t-shirt and shorts instead of scruffy hiking
shirt and breeches. A long walk around the list of restaurants from 'Hitchhiker's
Guide to
The distinctive Grossminster was closed for renovation so we couldn't even look around that. The rest of the gang showed their disapproval by looking in the many sex shops and watching the Olympics in TV shop windows. The 'Oliver Twist' English type pub was soon unfortunately discovered - colour TV on which the 10000 metres was watched. Very interesting toilets here, the flushing was controlled by a photoelectric cell when the user left the area.
A meal was had at the Trattoria pizzeria Santa Lucia, where they again spoke Italian. A real wood fired oven provoked Dave and Colin to eat pizzas, whereas Martin and I ate pasta. All with side salads, followed by cappuccinos except for Dave who was awkward (and thirsty) and had Orangina which was not as good as the genuine French variety sampled in great quantity by me last year. An excellent meal costing about £5 per head.
The hippie
movement cum folkies come out on Sunday night in
Enjoyable Mediterranean climate type evening was a suitable end to a very enjoyable holiday. Full of variety, though I must admit to disappointment that we didn't have hailstones, as every other sort of weather was apparent at some time or other.
Colin now wanted
to sell a one-way ticket to
Monday 28 July 1980 - diarist: Martin -
No hassles or hiccups in our bus / tram /
train / taxi journey - all stops
The view north from Stierlochjoch
Friday 25 July 1980 - diarist: Colin - Near Ravensburger Hutte to Formarinsee near Freiburger Hutte
This morning began with little men hammering pitons into my brain. I was glad to find that I was not suffering alone, and that other expedition members were suffering from last night's excessive consumption - we must stick to one packet of 'Rise and Shine' in future.
(An alternative explanation involving the red wine, beer, kirsch and schnapps, seems much less plausible.)
Breakfast was prepared in the usual manner but was notable for the excellent new improved muesli (with bird seed) and the portion of Austrian camembert which went astray and needed to be retrieved with an ice axe.
The usual chores
completed, we set off over the Stierlochjoch (translation note: this literally
means 'the bull's hole' pass). The journey was slowed by the rapid effect of
the extra bran in today's breakfast, haemorrhaging of the nasal passages, and
the photogenic nature of the local flora. The journey down to Zug was along a
pleasantly wooded path, and judging by the number of touroids heading in the
opposite direction - very popular.
Having no need
of further provisions, we spurned a visit to the vast metropolis of Zug and
headed off in a westerly direction along the
After lunch, we
set off up the valley at our own pace, arriving at the Freiburger Hutte over a period of some 20 to 25 minutes. Bier,
Schiewasser und Ein Orangen were gratefully consumed and we set off to our campsite
beside Formarinsee, and in the rocks around us we can see the band of red rock
which gives the Rote Wande its name.
As Nick wrings out his socks, the sweet and sour chicken soaks, and RMP clunks over the prostrate form of Dave, I shall close today's diary entry with my thanks to everyone for an extremely enjoyable two weeks. Personally my vote for the most memorable day goes to the Memminger - Ansbacher day, for its variety of scenery, some pioneering, and schnee, schnee, schnee!
Nick adds: PS, Colin
missed out Nick's admiration of an American girl's unfettered 'bits'; see
earlier reference to her husband's underpants; she thought the snow was 'really
scary' (read with an appropriate US accent).
Saturday morning, and Sue is caught on her early morning run in frosty conditions in De Quincey Park.
Then at 9:30 we cycled along to Wythenshawe Park for a chat with a few other parkrunners. Only the brave (or foolhardy) made it through the blizzard of wet April snow. Jeanette turned back and wimped home; Rufus was looking decidedly miserable; Laura was still on a high after completing the purchase of her new home in Northenden; Paul was on Cloud Nine (one less woman in the house? - just joking!); Jenny and Owen had a pretty umbrella, and the Likely Lads had frozen knees.
