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Warm down & the Journey Home
Fortunately it was only a short drive to Banavie. Even better, our palace of slumber , the Banavie Guest House, was visible from the road so the general Pavlovian drooling at the prospect of food, drink, showers and beds was already in its critical stage by the time we pulled in to the car park. Unfortunately, Circumstances had obviously been fiddling with the day's small print again (no doubt with the help of Mr. Sandman...) as there was nobody at home. All this way and just yards from warm showers and cool, clean sheets and it was all going pear-shaped! Unfortunately, Circumstances had not reckoned on improvisation putting the boot in, so we put all the gear back in the van and hobbled to a nearby hotel. The Landlord deserves a medal for his hospitality. We were only looking to see if there were any spares rooms if the worst came to the worst. Instead he offered to keep phoning the guest house until someone arrived and in the meantime sorted us all out with drinks and food, even though we were all looking a bit frayed around the edges. His enthusiasm must have been catching as we immediately sorted out a kitty for beer/food and retired to the lounge to await our grub, just like it was a typical night out and not the end of a 600 mile odyssey. (If scientists could only isolate the beer gene they could hold the brewery industry to ransom!) Not surprisingly, as soon as we sat down, Lethargy (- filling in for Cramp who must have spotted tastier game on the Ben...) set upon us and it was all we could do to stay awake to eat. One meal and a couple of very quiet pints later and we were ready to drop. Fortunately, it was then that our gracious guest house hostess, Mrs. Sutherland, returned.
We were running on blind instinct by now...OK, limping then, but we managed to get back to the van, unload our gear and head towards approaching nocturnal nirvana without to much fuss. Apart from a spot of mortal combat with a staircase (knees have long memories...) we settled in with the minimum of fuss and headed off in search of showers. There were four bathrooms on our floor alone so we were all showered and revived in a matter of minutes. This was only temporary, although some of the gang gamely headed downstairs to sniff out a cup of char and watch some TV. The rest of us were more or less comatose by the time they returned, having sorted out a 7am breakfast with the Landlady. 7am?? ...we must have been mad.
For those of a like mind, details for the Banavie Guest House can be found at http://www.mtn.co.uk/acc/banavie/
Oi! You lot...walk properly
No sooner had our heads hit the pillow (or in Andy S's case, the ceiling as he had the top bunk...) it seemed the alarm was going off. Bleary eyes peered around while the usual "...who/what/where am I?" enquiries were made of the brain...which was, of course, lying in wait with folded arms, hair in curlers, tapping its metaphorical foot and hefting a rolling pin which it then proceeded to belt everyone with as a reminder of the previous day's exertions. If that was not enough, the main window in our room looked straight at Ben Nevis so we had a visual as well as a muscular refresher course in pain. Still, the prospect of a warm shower and a fried breakfast soon galvanised tired limbs into some semblance of motion and a few moments later several somnambulant forms were wandering the corridors bearing towels, soap and that faintly bemused expression that you wear while the body frantically tries to re-establish some sort of equilibrium 2 hours before it had planned to actually wake up.
Once again we all surprised ourselves and were all sat around the breakfast table by 7:20 munching on toast, sipping coffee, tucking into the fry-up and discussing the previous day's events. All good things have to come to an end, however, and at 8:30 we all piled back into the van, stowed the kit and launched ourselves on the journey home. This was the longest leg of all so we planned to break it into manageable chunks by stopping now and then to stretch and shuffle about.
First stop was just outside Glasgow for a re-fuel. A few of us took the opportunity to stock up on papers and drinks before we headed off for a longer sojourn in the Lake District. It was getting near to lunch o'clock according to my stomach so we headed for the nearest services and the prospect of some nosebag. Once out of the van, we sort of formed a group huddle and half limped, half carried each other to the service area amid much sniggering and shouts of " Oi, you lot, walk properly!". The whole window area of the restaurant were watching this carry-on with a sort of puzzled incredulity as to why 10 seemingly fit people only appeared to have four working limbs between them. We wandered into the lobby expecting to give a matinee performance for the kitchen staff, however our thoughts/taste buds were immediately mugged by a Wimpy take away. So 15 minutes later and all burgered up we manage to climb a small hill in the grounds of the service area and make ourselves comfortable for a fast feed. And fast feed it had to be as there was a flock of marauding seagulls waiting to pick off anything left unguarded for more than a second. These are usually easily dealt with. All you have to do is lob one a substantial chip and the rest all dive after that chip and ignore everything else. However this bunch were having none of that and instead, seemed to be tying napkins around their necks and forming an orderly queue! Fortunately they were content with a few chips, the odd bit of bread roll or surface-to-air flapjack so we got to eat in peace for the most part. Meal over, we once again formed our four legged, 10 headed limping order and hopped/staggered back to the van and the next leg.
Birmingham was the next city to get a look at our group ballet as we pirouetted our way past the next restaurant full of amused diners in our efforts to get to the cold cabinet. OK, so it was not as bad as the previous stop, but we were still showing signs of wear and tear. With that over, it was back to the van and the last leg of the main journey. Finally, nearly 10 hours after starting off we were back at Westbury on Trym and the our individual journeys home. We sorted our kit out and were soon going our separate ways with the prospect of a good long kip looming large.
And that, readers, is just about it. 1189 miles, 60 hours on the go with just 6 hours sleep. Three peaks climbed and the warranties up on various bodily joints. However, the feeling of actually achieving what we did will always stay with us and the team spirit is still strong and looking forward to the next challenge. The Six peaks in 48 hours maybe...? Watch this space, you never know what you might see!
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