B of O

Tom and I have been together for ten years. We don’t really do anniversaries, but this one seemed worth celebrating. We spent the weekend camping, walking, and eating at the Bridge of Orchy (B of O), one of my favourite places. It is hard to explain quite why I love the B of O so much, but I really do. Perhaps it is that it boasts a welcoming hotel serving excellent food, and good beer, including one of my favourite ales of all time. Perhaps it is that one can pitch one’s tent by the actual Bridge of Orchy, and be in said hotel, consuming said fine food and ales, in mere minutes. Perhaps it is its position among spectacular West Highland scenery. Or perhaps it is just that it has been a camping and walking oasis for us since we moved to Scotland. Anyway, for me, the B of O never disappoints.

(view above the B of O)

So we celebrated our decade with a lovely dinner at the B of O, a night in the tent, and a two munro walk. The B of O sits underneath Beinn Dorain and Beinn an Dothaidh — two straightforward and interesting munros which, together with their several associated tops, make for a fine day’s walking.

(Beinn Dorain)

We had a lovely day: the weather was kind to us with sunny intervals and fantastic visibility — we could see Buachaille Etive Mor to the North, and the beautiful hills of the Black Mount all around us, shifting in and out of the light as the clouds sped by above. In the next photograph, Tom is pictured (in the middle of the red circle!) above snow-filled Coire Daingean.

If anyone is at all interested, I can certainly write up this walk with a route map — we made a good day of it — climbing up Beinn an Dothaidh first, and then picking our way to the summit of Beinn Dorain along the leacann (fun! we could see walkers plodding slowly along the West Highland Way a thousand metres below us!), before coming back down along the ridge.

The full walk is just over nine and a half miles, with 1800-2000 metres of ascent. It took us around five and a half hours, after which we were more than ready for another celebratory pint.

(a pint of bitter and twisted in the B of O hotel)

In ten years together we have written doctorates, songs, and books, taken several different jobs, and lived in six properties in three cities. Its been a decade of curious haircuts, shifting political and personal perspectives, old habits, new obsessions. Many things have changed, and in many ways, we have grown up together. Now we intend to grow old together.

1999:

2009:

here’s to the next decade!

a walk

Did I mention the weather is superb in Scotland at the moment? We took advantage of it yesterday, climbing Meall nan Tarmachan, and the four tops that make up the Ptarmigan ridge. I remembered my knitting this time. Here I am working on a sock at 3422 feet.

Yes, folks, that is a clothkits hat I’m wearing. I admit it — I am a clothkits junkie. I liked the birdie so much I was compelled to buy a hat kit as well (the hats are designed for children, but clearly this doesn’t bother me). However, hat and skirt are probably best not worn together, unless one really likes the slightly crazed, infantile handmade look. . .

Oh! Liberty tana lawn, how I heart you. . .
It is a good hat.

Returning to the matter in hand — we had a fabulous day’s walking yesterday. It was warm enough to hang about, knit, and take our time over lunch at the top (unusual, that). There was one moment of slightly hair-raising scrambling (I am not great at descending feet-first into the abyss) but the wee ridge was lots of fun:

(Mr B on the ridge. Note: he sports the uniform of outdoor-man)

It was a very clear day and the views were absolutely wonderful. We could see Ben Lui (which we climbed a couple of weeks ago), the whole of the highlands north to the Mamores, and the great snowy hulk of Ben Nevis below the clouds in the distance. I do like to stand on a mountain, looking at all the other mountains I have climbed at other times. I think of my earlier selves climbing those hills, negotiating corries, colls and ridges. I think of other days and other walks, and the peaks look back at me like old friends.