Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan

Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan from An Socach

Friday, 23 August 2013
Ascent:         1840 metres
Distance:      28 kilometres from Cluanie Inn
Time:            8 hours 48 minutes

Cluanie to Alltbeithe camp          270m   2hrs 47mins
m    An Socach                             921m   3hrs 55mins
t      Stob Coire na Cloiche           915m   4hrs 29mins
m    Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan   1151m   5hrs 17mins
t      Carn na Con Dhu                  967m   6hrs   9mins
m    Mullach na Dheiragain          982m   6hrs 42mins

With a friend's Munro compleation on Ciste Dubh on Saturday, I decided to go a day early and climb the three remote munros north of the Alltbeithe Youth Hostel by the River Affric. I started early and was in Fort William by 9:40am to buy a gas cylinder and some fruit for the next three days of hill walking. Beyond Fort William, it was a slow journey in the holiday traffic, and it was 11:30am before I reached the Cluanie Inn. It started to rain as I began the walk back to the start of the path that leads north to Glen Affric. It was grey, wet and miserable, and the track became an increasingly boggy tramp along a narrow path. It reminded me of previous tedious walks on this route, and to make it worse, I had to return the next day. I am seldom morose. But I was not relishing the next 6 kilometres through the bog, and, after pitching the tent, I would have to climb the uninviting grey hills ahead. It would be almost 3pm before I started the serious climbing, and dark before I was back at the tent.

My spirits were lifted by a woman from Carlisle squelching down the path with a massive smile, having already climbed A'Chralaig and Mullach Fraoch-choire. She had enjoyed one of the best ridge walks after two good days on the Five Sisters and the Saddle. She radiated the joys of Munro bashing, having now reached 232 munros in twenty years. Her optimism was infectious, and I was stirred to plan how to achieve the three hills ahead. After crossing the suspension bridge over the river Affric, I walked half a kilometre east of the Youth Hostel and pitched the tent by the Allt na Faing, where I had camped on two previous visits. I immediately followed the good path to the bealach at 798 metres.

At the bealach, I had to decide whether to make the quick walk out and back to An Socach or leave it as an option on the return, when it might be the difference between descending in the light or the dark. I decided to be optimistic and went out to An Socach. Although the hills were out of cloud, a flat grey light diminished the views of  Mam Sodhail and Carn Eighe to the east. I scampered back to the bealach and decided to climb Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan next. There are a series of tops along the way, but not much height is lost between them. I was surprised at how easy it seemed and made the summit on the schedule I had set. I gave myself five minutes and finished my water and the last of the food in my rucksack. I had inadvertently left most of the food in the tent, so an apple had to suffice.

I began the long descent to Mullach na Dheiragain. This must be one of the three or four most remote munros, along with Luirg Mhor, A' Mhaighdean and Seana Braigh. A bealach at 841 metres follows a long, easy ridge with a jumble of boulders to cross at the top of Carn na Con Dhu. There is then a steepish drop to another bealach before the final 100 metres of ascent to the summit. It felt remote, and it was 7:15pm by the time I arrived. I immediately began the return and met a walker going out and trying to find a way across the boulders. He had his tent with him and was going to camp in the corrie beyond the summit. He seemed concerned that I would not get back to Alltbeithe, but I was on a charge. I made good time by dropping down to Coire nan Dearcag and then contouring round before climbing through a boulder field to the bealach below An Socach.

I was glad that I had climbed An Socach earlier, although it was still light at 8:40pm as I began the descent down the path. I relaxed and began to look forward to some food. Just after the gate through the deer fence at 500 metres, I was striding out down the path when I came face to face with a badger coming up the path. Other than in Beatrix Potter books, I had only previously seen a badger at Kinlochhourn after a walk on the Knoydart Munros that finished at midnight. On this occasion, we were no more than 3 metres apart before the badger did a quick whirl and sashayed down the path at a fair pace. 

It was just about dark as I reached the tent and settled down to make some food, but could not find my matches. I had to decide whether to go without food and a hot drink or walk down to the youth hostel to borrow a lighter. I decided that hunger took precedence and spent ten minutes in the hostel talking to other walkers whilst the friendly warden reappeared with a lighter. Soup, pasta and a pan of tea followed, although the midges had got into the tent and those that didn't season the pasta made it less comfortable than I would have liked. It had been a successful day. Sleep is always easy after 8 or 9 hours of walking. The prospects for tomorrow for Mary's Munro Compleation were looking good.

Five Sisters from the Path to Alltbeithe

Alltbeith suspension bridge and hostel & Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan 

An Socach with Carn Eighe and Mam Sodhail in the distance

Loch Coire nan Dearcag, my return route

Looking south from Ceathreamhnan

Summit of Ceathreamhnan looking to the twin top

Mullach na Dheiragain from Ceathreamhnan

Mullach na Dhearagain looking towards Ceathreamhnan and its tops

Twenty Five Thousand Hits

When I started this blog three and a bit years ago, it was to provide some updates on what I was doing during those empty days of retirement. It was mainly a record of places visited and things that were happening, and restricted to immediate family and friends. Three years ago, I opened the blog to all comers. Earlier today, I had the twenty-fifth thousandth hit. I am not sure whether to be pleased or not by this.

Before the blog, I kept a written diary of holidays, a running log, log books and some Word documents of all my Munro rounds. My photos were kept on various computers or on slides in shoe boxes. In short, it was a nuisance trying to access these and certainly near impossible to bring together photos, diaries and logs. So the blog is a record of things that happen, a personal record but infused with the occasional reflection about politics or other events. What is certain is that things are easier to find and probably kept with more discipline than in the past.

The Blog has provided an outlet for other comments about people, politics, places and the occasional rant. Some of these have become widely read, others barely read. When the number of hits reached 25,000 today, it surprised me; the growth in traffic this year has been over 1000 hits every month. It is difficult to define any patterns to the hits, but they can probably be summarised under three headings: volume of traffic, source of traffic, and popular postings.

Volume of traffic

This has only been measured since July 2010, when the Blog was opened to wider use.

• There were 368 hits in the first month, but this was largely down to the GR20 post, which has remained the most viewed post ever since.
• By the end of 2010, the blog was averaging 421 per month, although this included a significant peak with the posts about my daughter's wedding. 
• There was no surprise that this fell to 404 a month during the first six months of 2011 but there was a steady increase to 447 for the July to December months of 2011. For most of 2011, I was in Shetland and blogged about some of the wonderful landscapes and events there. 
• In 2012, I began to post about other events and to post all my walks in the Scottish hills. The result was a substantial increase to 631 hits per month in the first six months and then to further increase to 786 per month for the second six months of 2012. 
• In 2013, there was another significant step up with the average monthly hits averaging 1203 and the daily traffic averaging 40 or so hits.

Source of Traffic

The UK dominates with 90% of all hits. There were 44 regular visitors to the site during the last month. This has picked up in recent months, which correlates to the increasing number of hits on the hill walking posts. After the UK, the USA has the next most visits to the site, although it would seem that quite a few of these are by companies analysing the traffic. The same applies to Russia, which is the next highest source of visits, followed by Germany, France, the Netherlands, Canada, Spain and Romania. There has been a notable increase in hits from China and other Southeast Asian countries in recent months, although these are still well below 1% of all hits

Popular Postings

There have been 270 postings, which have been made on a fairly consistent basis of 5 or 6 per month. I have never aspired to do a daily posting and only post when I feel inclined to describe an event or visit. What has become evident is the heavier traffic for posts on places visited like Vienna, Granada, Mallorca, Rousillion and Sheffield.  There are an increasing number of visits to the posts on hill walks now that they are reaching a critical mass; very often, these are slow burners.  Just occasionally, some posts go viral, as with Bidean nam Bian when 6 people were killed in an avalanche or the floods of last November. Surprisingly, a couple of posts on the Olympics also crop up in the top twenty posts listed below:

1. GR20 (Walking)                                        
2. Ronas Hill and da Lang Ayre (Shetland)  
3. Top 40 Munros (Hill Walking)                         
4. Vienna (Holiday)                                      
5. Granada (Holiday)                                    
6. Roussillion (Holiday)         
7. West Highland Way (Walking)
8. Wedding Day (Event)
9. Mallorca (Holiday)
10. Bidean nam Bian (Hill Walking)
11. Eagle of the Ninth (Film)
12. Lochnagar (Hill Walking)
13. Aberfoyle Deluge (Place/Event)
14. Inspiring a Generation (2012 Olympics)
15. Beinn Buidhe (Hill Walking)
16. South Shiel ridge (Hill Walking)
17. Thoughts of a Couch Potato (2012 Olympics)
18. Muckle Flugga (Shetland)
19. Up Helly Aa (Shetland)
20. Sheffield (Place)

The next batch, which have all had over 100 hits include several postings with political comment, more hill walking and Shetland posts and some postings about people I have known. Several of these have generated a response and garnered new friends and old acquaintances. One post was used in a funeral Order of Service.

On a couple of occasions, I have been targeted by bombings (bots), usually based in Russia but also Latvia, who seem to select a particular post of no apparent significance to divert traffic elsewhere. As soon as I have reported this to Google, these bombings have been stopped.

So I have no plans to significantly change the blog, although I am trying to find the most efficient way to include a link to a map for all the walks. Sixty to seventy posts a year seems about right. I now have a good personal record, including photographs of the more memorable outings of the year; if it is of interest to others, then that is a bonus.

Half marathon redux

Still standing

The start

I set a new PW (personal worst) of 1 hour 40 minutes for the half-marathon today, but was quite pleased. It was my first half-marathon race in ten years, and I had lost only 8 minutes from my time when a guest competitor at the World Medical Games in 2003.  I am now running 26 minutes slower than my PB from 1987.  But the rate of decline seems to be less rapid than it was, so I might still be able to do a sub-two-hour half-marathon by the time I am 80.

Half marathons always seemed a good distance, no long training runs required and recovery measured in days, not weeks. I have run about twenty half marathons over the past thirty years, most of them when in my thirties and forties and, unlike marathons, they never felt like they were taking over your life.

I entered on the day, having decided during a 9-mile run earlier in the week that I was going well and should perhaps forget my pride and test myself in a race. I searched online for a half-marathon in August, found the Helensburgh one and decided to get it over with. I set myself a couple of targets: 1 hour 50 minutes, which I thought was achievable from my regular 6 and 8-mile exercise runs, and 1 hour 45 minutes, which would push me, and I used this target to set my split times. By 5 miles, I was 2:40 up on my targets, and by 10 miles, I was 4 minutes up. Could I gain another minute on the last three miles, which included a hilly mile and a mile into the wind?  If so, 1 hour 40 minutes, which was way beyond expectations, was possible. I tried and pulled back a few places over the last three miles, but whilst the breathing was easy, the former dependable drive in the legs was no longer there.

When racing regularly, my times were very consistent. After a fast start, I would tag along behind the leading group,  I usually had a bad patch between 2 and 4 miles. Thereafter, I was metronomic in my running speed and usually pulled back a lot of places. But not today, I started steadily - 7 minutes for the first mile - decided to slow slightly for the next three miles, but then could not find my overdrive for the last 9 miles. I lost places until 8 miles and only began to pull back over the last 4 miles as many of the runners began to fade. I was tired and stiff afterwards, but, as another older club runner had said sagely at the start, "you will enjoy it better if you forget the fast lane and your old times and start to carve out a new time commensurate with your age."

All the symptoms of racing were still there: feeling heavy-legged before the start, tying shoes once, twice, three times to get the right pressure, listening to all the reasons why people would not go well, struggling to fix the race number with safety pins, deciding what shoes to wear, did I need vaseline because I didn't have any and how much to drink before the start. I was not helped by having to abandon the queue for the toilet because the start was imminent. Finally, I could find no one I knew to race against. Only near the finish did I see one of my old sparring partners from Bellahouston Harriers.

Nevertheless, I was impressed by the excellent organisation of Helensburgh AAC.  Registration took less than a minute, the stewarding was spot on, as were the mile markers. Three watering points were provided, and it was a well-signed route with much encouragement from the good citizens of Helensburgh. The real difference from the half marathons that I had done in the past was the far greater proportion of women runners and the high number of runners zoned into their iPods.

Bring me a beer, please

Cairngorms: West of the Lairig Ghru

Sgor Gaoith, Braeriach and Cairntoul

The heatwave was well into its second week apart from the western highlands which were to be hit by rain over the next few days. John called and suggested a two-day trip to climb some of the corbetts in the northeast of Scotland where the forecast was for the good weather to be retained. I suggested an alternative walk over the Western Cairngorm plateau, camping overnight and collecting the 8 munros to the west of the Lairig Ghru. It would be a chance to camp high and enjoy the remote tundra-like landscape on the tops. We agreed that the corbetts could wait for later in the year.

Monday, 15 July 2013

Ascent:        1425 metres

Distance:     22 kilometres

Time:          6 hours 26 mins

t   Carn Ban Mor             1052m      1hr   36mins

m  Sgor Gaoith                1118m      2hrs  7mins

Camp - Tom Dubh            870m      3hrs 37mins

m  Monadh Mor               1113m     4hrs 13mins

m  Beinn Bhrotain            1157m     4hrs 58mins

Feshie plateau towards Sgorr Gaoith and Braeriach

Braeriach from Sgor Gaoith

Camp by Allt Luineag below Monadh Mor

The Devil's Point in the sun, Ben Macdui in the cloud

Beinn Bhrotain from Monadh Mor

Some colour to temper the intimidating bogs below Monadh Mor

The journey up the A9 had been long and frustrating with slow trains of caravans and lorries as well as several sections of roadworks. We arrived at the relatively new car park in Glen Feshie which is a kilometre short of Achlean. As always packing for a two-day trip took some time and we filled up on food before setting out in a heat of 25ºC. The path up the Allt Fhearmagan from Achlean is well made and the first 100 metres of climbing are through the native forest before emerging into the searing heat of the open hillside. As well as food for two days and overnight camp stuff  I was carrying a bladder with 3 litres of water to test my new rucksack. Our pace was steady with no stops until we reached the top of Carn Ban Mor.

From here the long plateau from Braeriach to Cairntoul beckoned and was still cloud-free. We walked into the stiff breeze to the summit of Sgor Gaoith with its rocky upturned summit. We arrived just after 3pm, took photos and enjoyed ten minutes absorbing the splendid views of Loch Einich below the cliffs and then started heading round the southern end of the Loch, dropping to the undulating boggy ground.  It was slow going and I calculated that we had another 5 hours to get over the four munros from Braeriach to The Devil's Point and back to a suitable burn before we could make camp. Moreover, clouds had gathered on the summits which would further slow progress. I suggested setting camp below Monadh Mor instead and then climbing Monadh Mor and Beinn Bhrotain. They were both out of cloud and we could set out early in the morning to climb the other four before returning to Glen Feshie via Mullach Clach a' Bhlair.

We decided that this was a more sensible option and so it proved. We found a perfect campsite next to the Allt Luineag just below the lump of Tom Dubh which is classified as a top. After a brew and putting up the tent, we set out in the early evening sunshine to climb the rock-strewn slopes of Monadh Mor. We were rewarded with great views of the eastern Cairngorms. Ben Macdui was in cloud but the sunlight illuminated The Devil's Peak and the bulk of Beinn Bhrotain ahead. There are two cairns on the hill and a pleasant ridge walk across the mountain before a brief but steep descent. The winds had whipped up as we crossed the bealach and climbed up the steep blocky granite slopes to Beinn Bhrotain. There are a lot of cairns built at the summit as well as one of the ugly cylindrical trig points. 

We returned by much the same route but took in the other top on Monadh Mor and descended via a burn to the camp. Ptarmigan were very evident throughout this part of the walk with young birds still being protected by their parents, the mothers giving us several demonstrations of their broken wing sketch to divert us away from their young. We were in the unusual position of being back at the tent and eating by 8:30pm. The fresh breeze kept the midges at bay and we sat and watched the sun retire into the clouds over over Braeriach. John took to his bivvy and overnight we had some rain.

The Aonach Eagach ridge

Aonach Eagach from A82

The Lost Valley below Bidean  nam Bian

Below Am Bodach

Descent by the Chancellor

Descending the crazy pinnacles

Looking back from Stob Coire Liath

Sgorr nam Fionnaidh from Stob Coire Liath

Glencoe with Buchaille Etive Mhor prominent from Sgorr nam Fionnaidh

Wednesday 10 July 2013

Ascent:        1115 metres
Distance:     10 kilometres
Time:           5 hours 22minutes

t     Am Bodach                943m       1hr   42mins
m   Meall Dearg               953m        2hrs 30mins
t     Stob Coire Leith         940m        3hrs 47mins
m   Sgor nam Fionnaidh   967m        4hrs 15mins

I had been saving the Aonach Eagach for a good day, the ridge deserves to be savoured. Previous excursions had included an afternoon trip in February when it was covered in ice and snow and went dark as we descended the Clachaig gulley and a cold November day when the ridge was lost in the cloud. I had also skipped down it in late May on the way back from a wonderful week when we had climbed all 23 Munros in Knoydart and Skye. I had walked it in late April and guided a couple of awestruck teenagers along it on a perfect June day. Today was a repeat of the latter but my then thirteen-year-old was now forcing the pace.

We parked in the large car park at the top of the glen. An elderly lady from a tourist bus warned us that it was far too steep and we should not go into the cloud that was still concealing the ridge. She then made me promise to look after the two younger members of the group - both around thirty - because their mothers would never forgive me if I didn't. I thought of telling her that two of us had bus passes and that the younger ones should be looking after us but she was not someone to argue with.

Gregor drove the car to the lower lay-by to save time at the end of the walk whilst John, Ross and I began climbing the steep but well-made path which zigzags up from Allt na Reigh. The views across to Bidean were outstanding as the sun was burning off the morning clouds in the week of a heatwave following Andy Murray's win at Wimbledon. Gregor ran back up the glen and had caught us by the time we reached 500 metres. We stopped for a drink and spent ten minutes enjoying the sunshine, views and banter. The path to the top of Am Bodach is unrelenting but gives a relatively quick ascent and overlooks the A82 which was awash with summer traffic.

We stopped for some food and drink on Am Bodach, enjoying the slight breeze that made the sun bearable before we started the first tricky leg over to Meall Dearg. The descent is steep and exposed in places but nowhere is it more than a scramble and the route is scored by thousands of crampon scratches. We arrived at the summit of Meall Dearg just behind two other couples and took our time before setting out on the next section over the crazy pinnacles. As always the trick was to keep to the ridgeline although this gives a couple of exposed sections. It is both easier and more exciting than taking the lower sections to the north of the ridge, which I had followed last time on a raw November day when the ridge was in the cloud. It is comparatively slow progress with a dozen or so pinnacles to ascend and descend and clamber across before the final 100 metres of the climb to the airy top of Stob  Coire Liath. Beyond here it is all plain sailing apart from finding a way down to the road.

We took photos and finished all food and drink before the final easy promenade over to Sgor nam Fionnaidh. Our only thought was getting down for some water, we had exhausted our supplies in the unusual summer heat. We returned to the col and found a direct descent down the loose scree, battling our way across several gullies and then the deep bracken to reach the road. All the burns had dried up in the heatwave so we were completely dehydrated. It was 4:30pm by the time we reached the layby on the road where Gregor had parked the car. Then the really dangerous part of the day began with the usual idiotic overtaking manoeuvres by motorbikes, van drivers and company cars as the traffic crossed Rannoch Moor. The caravans, motorhomes, and cyclists are given short shrift as they are engulfed by the rampaging wildebeest of the A82. It was half an hour later before we reached the Green Welly shop in Tyndrum for some cold drinks.

Catbells: Tova's first hill

Friday brought an old fashioned summer's day and after three days of swimming and a visit to the Beatrix Potter house at Near Sawrey, we thought it about time that Tova climbed a hill. She would be 3 months old in two days. We drove to Keswick and then on to Portinscale and the Swinside Lodge where we found an empty parking spot. Tova was strapped to my front and off we went up the steep but well-trodden path up Catbells. Twenty-nine years ago Catbells had been where our three children were first hilled and it seemed appropriate to continue the tradition. I was carrying Tova and Eva was carrying the camera, so for once, I was caught on film.

A cairn stone for Tova

Derwentwater

I don't want to go down

Little Town in Newlands and bliss for Tova

Little Town farm

Tova and a Wainwright's beer, bliss for Papa

Little town farm - looking for Lucie

Skelgill path

Skiddaw and a methane line

Sleepwalking

The walk was an unmitigated success, the sun shone, the setting was spectacular, we found a suitable nursing bay below the summit and Tova was serene and showing interest all the way. At the summit I was asked did we have to go down the same way. I suggested that we dropped down into Newlands and visit the cafe in the farm where Lucie lived in The Tale of Mrs Tiggy Winkle. I had passed it a couple of days earlier and been told that it was good for afternoon teas. The route down Yewthwaite gill was gentler than the ascent and Eva did the carrying. We were down in the bucolic splendour of Newlands in 45 minutes and the little town farm tea room was a real find. Homemade sandwiches, cakes, ice cream and some decent beer were all available as well as some homemade soft drinks. It was early afternoon and we happily whiled away an hour in the cool dining room.

The walk back to the car at Skelgill was another perfect walk through the exquisite Newlands landscape. We even saw a Black Redstart which flitted along the hedgerows. Tova fell asleep as any 3 months would after such a long walk. Catbells had lived up to all our previous impressions and watching Tova had cured us of the stoicism of ageing.

Lucie at Little-town farm

Newlands Horseshoe

Catbells on the ascent

Catbells and Derwentwater from Maiden Moor

Vale of Newlands from Maiden Moor

High Spy and Great Gable

Newlands from Dale Head

Fleetwith Pike and the Buttermere Fells

Robinson summit

Descent from Robinson

Hindscarh and Robinson from Newlands

Newlands Church and former school

Hindscarth and Robinson

Newlands

Ascent:     1250 metres
Distance:   17 kilometres
Time:         4 hours  53mins
w   Catbells              451m            32mins
w   Maiden Moor     576m      1hr    7mins
w   High Spy           653m       1hr  36mins
w   Dale Head         753m       2hrs 22mins
w   Hindscarth         727m       2hrs 44mins
w   Robinson           737m       3hrs 18mins

Despite the fact that the vale of Newlands in the Lake District is one of my favourite places, I had never walked the complete skyline of the Newlands Horseshoe before. There had been dozens of trips up Catbells carrying or towing children and a few excursions up Dale Head, Hindscarth and Robinson from Buttermere. Gregor still had four of the hills to complete as part of his Wainwright round so it was an obvious outing.

It was grey as we set out but with the prospect of some sun later. Within minutes of leaving Skelgill at the foot of Catbells, the rain started and was on and off for the first hour. The lower part of the path had been improved and was a superb feature, almost park-like with the slate gravel path perfectly laid in the short grass which was trimmed by sheep We passed about 25 walkers on the ascent of Catbells, it seemed to go on longer than I remembered. There were the usual crowds at the summit, mainly teenagers on school trips but with a smattering of families with young children and older couples with dogs and walking poles.

We didn't stop at the summit but dropped down before the less frequented climb to Maiden Moor. The summit is off to the right from the main path that continues to High Spy. It is worth the diversion for the views into the Vale of Newlands although there was no sunlight lighting up this corner of paradise. As it was still raining we continued on the easy saunter across the ridge on a well-defined path to High Spy. We passed a couple of large groups of walkers coming up from Grange in Borrowdale, all heavily booted and wearing waterproofs and walking poles.

It is a longish descent to the lovely setting of Dale Head Tarn. From here there is a staircase most of the way up to Dale Head. The weather was improving and on the descent the views over the Buttermere fells opened up with the austere screes of Fleetwith Pike draping the Honistor pass. It is an enticing and open landscape across to Hindscarth. We stopped at the summit to eat and enjoy the peaceful surroundings.

The sun was shining and as we set off to retrace our steps we found a path cutting down to the col below Robinson. On the climb, we met a group of girls who wanted to know where they were and how to get to Grange. We showed them the map and told them they could get an app. On Robinson we met an older lady eating her lunch with her sheepdog. We took a photo of the dog and she said she had never seen it pose before. We said we would send the photo but she replied that we would have a job as she did not have a computer. She had been a maths teacher and had to teach IT later in her career. She considered computers to be an unnecessary intrusion as she already spent much time playing games.

From Robinson, we descended down some grassy slopes, leading to a fine rocky ridge and then into the valley to walk down to Low Snab and then to Newlands. At Little Town we passed the farm where Lucy lived in the Beatrix Potter tale of Mrs Tiggywinkle. It is a pleasant trek from here across fields full of lambs and cattle before reaching Skelgill. As I opened a gate I was hollered by two immaculately dressed ladies to keep the gate open for them. We had a conversation about Newlands, it was their favourite place as well. They were sisters and had been born and brought up in the Wigton but now lived in the Welsh Border country, one owned a bookshop in Hay on Wye. They had just walked around the Newlands valley and informed me that excellent afternoon teas were available at Little Town. I was unsure whether this was an invitation or not as by this time we seemed to be firm friends united by our love of Newlands. I excused us as I was unsure that Gregor would have enjoyed the company and we returned to the car park at Skelgill where a distraught motorist was waiting for an empty parking space.

Four days later the conditions were perfect and we returned to Catbells to kickstart Tova's hill list.

On Catbells: Tova's first hill at 3 months with Eva,

Auntie June

Auntie June (bottom right with Jack) at wedding

It is Auntie June's 90th birthday today but we couldn't make it over to Sydney. As a child I had dozens of Great Uncles and Aunties, mainly from Lancashire and Yorkshire but also from Aberdeen. Some of them are in the photo of my parent's wedding above along with my two grandmas (second row left and front centre). June had been in the WRAF and she was married to my father's brother, Jack, who had been a fighter pilot and then a test pilot for the RAF after the war. Although there were quite a few family friends whom I called Aunt, June was my only real Aunt. She had style and a generosity of spirit, she came from Great Yarmouth and was always cheerful and encouraging no matter what escapades I got up to with my four cousins.

June was responsible for keeping the household on an even footing.  Regular house moves, twins amongst the four children and Jack's determination to do everything, including collecting speeding offences, at 100mph would have frazzled most mothers. June just provided an oasis of tranquility. She was always cool and calm and had a can-do approach to life which made all visits a pleasure. And she knitted quicker than Jack drove. My geography knowledge was founded on visiting them in all parts of the country in the 1950's as they were waltzed around RAF bases.  Later when Jack entered civvy street they settled in Kings Lynn, Reading and Bath before the family emigrated to Australia in 1963.

It was eight years before I saw her again when she came over for a visit to family in the UK. I had just finished a Master's degree and about to start work but she asked if I could drive her and my grandmother's sister, Auntie Elsie, around the attractions in the north-west including the Lake District. We spent several days in her hired mini during the height of an unusually hot summer. I think she gained the illusion that the north of England was a holiday hot spot. June lapped up every day and was always at ease and full of goodwill wherever we went stopping for ice creams, cream teas and the odd picnic. The company of good women is one of life's rewards.

A few years later I visited Australia with my brother over the Christmas and New Year period. June arranged our accommodation in a family flat overlooking Manly beach, lent us her car for several long trips up and down the eastern seaboard and made a Christmas BBQ on the beach that made snowmen and sledges seem unnecessary Christmas images. She filled eskis for us to take to Sydney Cricket Ground to watch Australia versus the West Indies and arranged a series of family events at a time when she was carrying a broken wrist and in the midst of some family turmoil. When we were taken by our cousin, who is on the far side of the wild side, to climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge to see in the New Year, we were told that the charge for this offence was six months in jail. All hell broke out with Jack but this was mollified by June: "well you didn't get caught so I guess it doesn't matter boys" was her pragmatic retort.

So June, many thanks for being that calm and supportive Aunt. You were just about the only person from south of the Trent that I knew as a child and you gave a good impression of southerners despite what those up north said! You were appreciated by all the family, everyone rated Auntie June as 'a thoroughly good egg' as you might have said.

Ninety is still young by today's standards, so enjoy your day and make sure that you have that drink and seafood that you fully deserve. And when are you next coming over?