29 to 31 January 2016 – A Weekend in Newtonmore

Thursday 28 January saw me and Sue tripping up to Newtonmore in atrocious rainy weather after Sue got home from work. Cary, Graham and John B had travelled up earlier and happily greeted us when we arrived at 11 pm.

Friday 29 January – the weather high up was dreadful, so a low level circuit for the five of us was in order. We drove past Ruthven Barracks before parking up and setting off from the car park at Torcroy (Insh).

The Badenoch Way was followed through woodland near the River Tromie to Tromie Bridge.

The marshes around Kingussie have morphed into lakes after recent deluges.

Today there was however some blue sky, which we glimpsed as we headed past lichen covered trees towards the Tromie, which was high, but well contained within its banks.

There are various measuring devices in the vicinity of Tromie Bridge, the one below was fenced in, whereas another one next to the river looks like a small bird hide but actually contains devices that monitor the height of the river.

Tromie Bridge is nearby, with this fine view of the frothing river as it rushes down to the Spey.

Beyond Tromie Bridge, we soon left the Badenoch Way and headed east towards Baileguish. Here's our view east from the forestry track, looking towards the Cairngorm summits beyond Glen Feshie.

We ignored a threatening sign informing us that there was no access to this area due to felling activity (we saw no evidence of current work), and continued on to the bridge across Allt Fhearnasdail at Baileguish, erected by an army working group in 2001.

We crossed the bridge and elevensed outside the farm buildings that Graham could cast his mind back to when they were occupied. Graham (in his TGO Challenge vetter capacity) then went to inspect a further bridge across Allt Mor that Challengers heading to Glen Feshie will be keen to cross. Whilst the bridge remains intact, the recent weather has created a deep channel that needs to be crossed before the bridge is reached. Challengers will need to hope that the river isn’t in spate and that they can wade across at the site of a ford a few hundred metres to the south.

We returned across the Allt Fhearnasdail bridge, noticing that lots of felling has taken place beyond Baileguish, where we stayed to the west of the Feshie. The sun shone brightly in between wintry showers.

I half expected one of a number of bothy smitten bloggers to come striding out of this building...

Graham confirmed our thoughts that this large wheel was from an aircraft undercarriage. There was no sign of the rest of the plane.

A quiet lane took us back to the Badenoch Way and past some smart houses with fine views in the hamlet of Inveruglas.

A couple of caravans had me wondering about their suitability as props in a dramatisation of Magnus Mills’ 'The Restraint of Beasts’.

Overhead, a flock of Greylag Geese seemed uncertain about where they wanted to go. Twisting and turning as if to keep within the boundary of a bird reserve, their leaders appeared to be masters of indecision.

Eventually we returned to Tromie Bridge and took the tarmac option back to the car as Graham felt he may have misplaced his voice in a roadside puddle.

Here's the day’s route - 23 km with 500 metres ascent, taking us a shade under 6 hours. An excellent day out.

Jon and Margriet arrived to join us at the bunkhouse, and we soon set about gorging ourselves on smoked salmon, coq au vin, and a selection of vegetable curries. Not to mention Graham’s excellent crumble and custard.

Saturday 30 January – others started from a lay-by at the far end of Loch Laggan. I drove there but decided to come straight back as it was snowing in a rather determined fashion. The others – apart from Jon, who lounged in the hostel with his tax return – managed to scale the dramatic heights of Meall Luidh Mor - 514 metres, although I don’t think they saw very much. Margriet’s all wheel drive car got them all safely back to Newtonmore through the snow.

Meanwhile, I joined Sue, Molly and Harvey for a stroll up Glen Banchor.

It snowed.

Harvey was anxious to get back home.

You wouldn't have wanted to fall into the River Calder today!

Another good nosh was enjoyed once everyone had returned to the hostel. The delights of ‘Boggle’ were also discovered, to the detriment of certain brains.

Sunday 31 January – Jon went up a small hill, Margriet (a little tired after the previous day’s exertions) went home to Aberdeen, and the ‘Manchester Five’ were joined by Sue O for a stroll up Glen Banchor. Here’s today's team: Martin, Sue B, John, Sue O, Graham, and Cary.

We crossed Allt a Chaorainn (luckily there's a bridge) and rose slowly up an unseen path that rises gently beside the River Calder.

There were some large herds of red deer low in the valleys and it was slow going through soft fresh snow beside Allt Fionndrigh. Care was taken to avoid dunkings in places like this…

At the far point of our walk we crossed a slippery footbridge. Care was needed to avoid sliding into the river!

Elevenses, with cake, were welcome at this point. Three people caught us up here and headed on in an attempt to climb Carn Dearg. It was slow going and they soon gave up. An early start would be needed to succeed in getting to that Munro summit in these soft conditions.

The six of us eventually reached the 743 metre summit of Creag Liath on the pleasantly calm but annoyingly cloudy day.

A fairly direct descent route saw us all pausing for lunch before taking our own individual routes towards the bridge at Glenballoch, another farmstead that was occupied until fairly recently.

I waited for a while on the bridge, admiring the fine view up Allt Fionndrigh.

Then it was a pleasant stroll back to Newtonmore, past a couple of skiers who were struggling lower down to find sufficient snow to justify their mode of transport.

Here's our route - 17 km with 650 metres ascent, taking a little over 6 hours.

Later, the five of us scrapped plans to eat out and sat down to a dinner of leftovers in Newtonmore Hostel. There were enough such ‘scraps’ to feed Sue and Neil, and Ali, Adrian and Ellen, as well as the Manchester Five.

Monday 1 February – we awoke to more lashings of rain and decided to go straight home, arriving by 4 pm, well in time for Sue’s yoga class.

Here’s a parting shot of the exceedingly hospitable Newtonmore Hostel.

As well as clicking on any of the images above to see a larger version, there’s a link to a slideshow (56 images) here. Click on the first image then click on ‘slideshow’ if you feel like a quick browse.

An excellent weekend despite the imperfect weather. Thanks to everyone for turning up and it’s a shame that Julie had to pull out at the last minute and that Roger B was foiled by an unexpected commitment.

Graffiti from the Southern Half (9)

As previously recorded, whilst in Valparaiso we took advantage of a ‘Tours4Tips’ (T4T) guided walk. Priscilla and two assistants took a group of nearly twenty of us on a three hour tour of the city centre. Here, Priscilla gives us a brief talk about the graffiti. Different artists have different styles and I think she named the person who created this image on an otherwise rather tired looking building.

Note the T4T ‘Where’s Wally?’ uniform – the guides were very distinctive. T4T runs a number of different tours, including one of the nearby wine region. We would have liked more time in Valparaiso, to take advantage of such tours and other attractions that we didn’t have time to visit.

Stockport to Timperley – An Amble with JJ

My old friend and TGO Challenger, JJ, flew into these pages for a brief visit last Wednesday when Sue’s new car needed some teething troubles investigated by the dealer in Stockport, from where it’s a pleasant 20 km stroll back to Timperley.

JJ’s usually more sensitive than to try to impersonate a disaster, so his ‘crash landing’ beside the two plaques in remembrance of the 1967 air crash was an insensitive mistake! Shame on you JJ….

After enjoying a coffee in a convenient shop, and dropping off our Nallo tent with Jose and Hugh at Alpenstock (Hugh kindly fitted a new set of zip pulls that should resolve the zip problem we encountered in Patagonia), we headed off across the River Mersey to the Kings Reach Bridleway that follows the course of the river along the Trans Pennine Trail.

Looking across the river we could observe the old mill now used by a storage company, and a curious extension overhanging the river. I wonder who occupied that room, and why was it built like that?

The view above is in the vicinity of sandstone cliffs with caves that date from 1670, purpose unknown. More tunnels were added in World War Two, by way of excavations to provide air raid shelters. They were sealed after the war, but I believe you can visit them.

Soon the riverside path leads to open countryside as it passes through the environs of Heaton Mersey then Didsbury and heads towards Northenden. Throughout this area, and all the way to the river’s union with the Manchester Ship Canal, high banks protect the area from flooding, which if it does occur utilises the golf courses that line the river as a flood plain before reaching domestic housing.

Hereabouts, Kingfishers can often be seen, but not today. The resident Mallards and Canada Geese were joined by Great Crested Grebes and a lone Cormorant, all seemingly finding plenty of food.

Cheadle Bridge is passed, taking the walker or TPT cyclist into Didsbury.

After a big loop in the river, we took a shortcut across Withington Golf Course, crossing the M60 motorway via an underpass that at a distance looked locked, but did, through a couple of prison cell doors, release us back into daylight – and a deep pond to wade through.

Staying with the riverside TPT path would have kept our feet drier. Either way, you reach this bridge and cross the Mersey for the direct route to Timperley. The right bank of the river could be followed all the way to Stretford, for a longer route to Timperley utilising the Bridgewater Canal towpath for the final 5 km from Stretford to Timperley.

Across the bridge there’s a good view of one of a number of weirs along this section of the river.

It’s several years since the Tatton Arms closed. At some point it will no doubt be demolished to provide housing for people who will then need a pub wine bar.

Nearby, a giant heron looks attentively for victims.

Our direct route to Timperley through Northern Moor and alongside Baguley Brook to Brooklands is shown on the map below (click to enlarge). A sharp shower meant that cameras were stashed and waterproofs deployed for the final few minutes of this flattish 20 km stroll that would have taken us about four hours if we hadn’t paused at length in Stockport.

Graffiti from the Southern Half (8)

This is a detail from the mishmash of graffiti on a house (below) very close to our hostal.

Here’s another photo taken from the same spot, looking up the steep road. Our hostel is a distant building on the left.

Memoirs of an Insolvency Practitioner

Any such memoirs will be from memory only. Twelve years after boxing up the diaries that recorded my entire career in detail, I decided that there was no longer any justification for keeping the contents of those boxes.

In deference to the recycling company I laboriously removed all the wire and filled our blue bin with thousands of the shorthand pad sheets that detailed, in fifteen minute segments, many years of work.



Perhaps I ought to write a short piece covering a few highlights of all those years whilst I can still remember them, but rest assured – that won’t reach these pages.
On the other hand…

Sorting through my archives today with a view to passing them on to Grant Thornton (they were collected this afternoon), I did come across something with amusement value:



I think this dates from the late 1970s, before I moved from auditing to insolvency. Where are they all now?

The picture below is of a cricket team that won the Grant Thornton national competition, a prestigious victory as a number of offices sported individuals with ‘Minor Counties’ credentials.



You’ll see (maybe) that I was umpire on this occasion, chosen because I never ever gave anyone out LBW. My eyesight wasn’t good enough! There were some cracking players in that team.

I did occasionally manage to wield a bat. Defence wasn’t my strong point. The short boundary at Alderley Edge was one of the few places that I could clear the boundary fielder. I also remember a ‘What Happened There?’ incident in an away match with our Liverpool office. I turned to the umpire, somewhat flummoxed, recording my belief that ‘but I’m not a bowler’. Gordon Hope looked at me and said ‘Maybe, but although you got that hat trick without any help from the rest of your team, you may have to buy a round later!’ Gordon, a Liverpool partner in the firm suffered the misfortune of being appointed to investigate Ken Dodd’s tax affairs. This didn't do his health any good and he died far too young. Very sad, he was a good man.

On another occasion I was umpiring in a game against our clients, Manchester United. They had some good cricketers. I asked one of their team what he did at United. “Assistant chef” he replied, “but I did play cricket for Glamorgan before that.” Anyway, it got to the last ball of the match. We needed five more runs to win, so all was going well – we could allow our clients victory (etiquette demanded this) and everyone would go home happy. Steve Bruce bowled a wide. I called it very late (wicket keeper Maurice Watkins later came to my defence – he was a good man to have on your side legally, as well as being a splendid cricketer) after our batman had missed the ball, so Steve had another throw go. The ball was hit fairly gently to Martin Edwards (remember him – the Chairman?) for two runs. So we had lost honourably by one run. But we hadn’t – Edwards threw the ball wildly, missing the wicket keeper and allowing two overthrows to be run. So we had won by one run, and my ‘late’ call of a wide was forever held against me. The United contingent spent the next half hour in their dressing room, apart from the only first team player who had turned out, Steve Bruce, who came to the bar at Bowdon Cricket Club saying “anyone would think we’d lost the cup final; I’ll bring Pallister next time, he’ll sort you out!”

Happy days. We lost the United audit shortly afterwards, so never did discover Gary Pallister’s cricketing credentials.

A Brief Visit to a Distant City

It was our good friend Anne’s birthday on Saturday. A church hall had been hired. Old friends would be present.

Earlier we were joined by TGO Challenger John Sheffield for our first visit to Stretford’s parkrun. It was the tenth running of that 5 km event. Our usual venue, Wythenshawe Park, has hosted 221 such events but is currently not available due to a waterlogged course. Stretford is a short, flat, fast course on a hard surface. 444 people turned up. It was crowded. There were a good number of Wythenshawe regulars in evidence, as well as John, whose home run is in Winchester. I tried to go slowly on this first visit, so as to be in a posoition to get a personal best next time. I’m not sure whether that plan worked, as my time was quick, albeit my position was well down the field. A survey of GPS owners indicated the general impression that this course is 200 metres shorter than the one at Wythenshawe, so no wonder that I finished a minute faster than I thought I was running…

Anyway, Sue and I were soon in transit to the distant city, a family visit featuring two shy budgerigars, then the big party with lots of friends.

Notable attendees were Doug and Margaret. Doug was a fine marathon runner in his day, and after his running career ended he completed the TGO Challenge on numerous occasions. He and Howard and Morpeth were most helpful to me at the end of my first Challenge in 2007, if I remember correctly. Doug uses a Phoenix Phreerunner tent just like mine. Margaret was a year ahead of me on the same degree course at UMIST. I hadn’t seen her since about 1973!

The evening was briefly punctuated by a short concert.

The city’s graffiti seemed to have been created by a street sculptor rather than a street artist.

There are some (iconic?) buildings.

The area below was deserted.