Edinburgh University Hill Walking Club Yearbook 2012/13

*“Ah.. Guys... I think we’re on the wrong hill”- Julia Thomas

The Committee...... 3 C Kinlochleven...... 4 25th Anniversary trip...... 5 Fresher Daytrip to Arrochar 22nd Sept...... 7 O Fresher Daytrip to Crianlarich 23rd Sept...... 7 Cannich 12th-14th Oct...... 8 Cairngorms 5th-7th Oct ...... 9 Eskdale 2nd-4th Nov ...... 10 N Bridge of Orchy 17th Nov ...... 11 Firbush Navigation Skills 9th- 11th Nov...... 12 Braemar 30th Nov- 2nd Dec ...... 13 Glen Lyon daytrip 8th Dec ...... 15 T Mull New Years Trip 31st Dec – 4th Jan...... 15 Winter Skills daytrips 19th & 20th Jan...... 17 Loch Lochy Burns trip 25th-27th Jan...... 18 E Glen Shiel 15th-17th Feb...... 22 Blair Atholl daytrip 2nd March...... 23 Glen Lyon daytrip 3rd March...... 24 Glen Cloe 22nd 24th March...... 25 N Ullapool 5th-8th April ...... 27 Stromeferry 19th-21st April...... 32 Loch Awe daytrip ...... 34 Glen Clova daytrip...... 34 T Socials...... 34 Photo Competition...... 36

S Editor’s Note

Just to say a huge thank you to everyone who wrote entires- It’s been ruddy fantastic reading them. As Ullapool was the faourite trip of the year, I included two entries!I hope I will be forgiven for my choice of photos of the committee and frank robbery of photos from certain social media sites. I think everyone would agree this has been another great year so I hope you enjoy looking through some awesome memories... President’s Note

The end of another fantastic year in the hills…its come so fast! The year started with our Arthur’s Seat walk, where so many of our new members got their first taste of the club, and of Edinburgh’s finest beer drinking establishments…or perhaps not as it was already the end of freshers’ week by then!

The club has had many fantastically sunny trips since then, but I’ll leave the details of them for the wonderful articles contributed by you lot. Some of those articles have been more forthcoming than others, so a big thank you to Pascale for making this yearbook happen. Thanks also need to go to all of the committee who have done an excellent job when their turn has come around to organise trips and for all of the work they have done behind the scenes. The club could not have functioned this year without you though – all of the help with leading walks, driving cars and buses, chopping, cooking, washing up and cleaning hostels has been invaluable!

The most thanks though have to go for all of the laughs provided, the great stories told and wonderful walks shared – without them my time in the club would not have been the fantastic experience that it has been. As I finish my time on the committee I can truly say that I have gained memories that are going to last me a lifetime, and I hope that you all have too!

Ali

President 2012/13

AND the rest of the Committee - what a bunch.

Secretary James Fathers

Treasurer Julia Thomas

Vice-President Lucy Wormald

Meet Secretary Gregor Boyne

Training and Safety Officer Euan Kerr

Gear Secretary Briony McIntosh

Social Secretary Lucy Nunn

Social Secretary Doug Stevens

Webmaster Alex Collins

Publicity, Yearbook and Alumni Officer Pascale

Robinson

Random Bod Tonje Moen

Random Bod Stuart North

Kinlochleven Julia Thomas

Writing this nearly a full year later I might only be able to give sketchy details, but hopefully the photos stolen from facebook will be more useful in triggering people’s memories! I offered to take on this article so I could write it over the summer… but of course that never happened. Anyway, the end of exams, an amazing weather forecast, and our own club chef Tom Inglis organising the trip were a recipe for a great trip. Blackwater hostel was beautiful, all log cabin style with en suite bathrooms- such luxury! With such a good, sunny weather forecast, no one, apart from Lucy W of course, had thought we should need ice axes or crampons in May... Many set off in the direction of the Marmores the next day, with Inglis et. al. planning to tick them all off. I settled for three, and even this turned out to be optimistic- as there was a layer of snowy powder covering slippery rock the tops, making only one of ours passable. That evening we had an interesting meal of homemade bread, and quinoa made with smoked trout, asparagus and spinach- funny how I remember exactly what was eaten. The climbing crew- Skirton, Caz boz, Andy and Sarah joined us for the evening as well after completing a climb up Buchaille Etive Mor. I believe merriment was had after finally getting the Tesco security tag off my wine bottle, which was bought not stolen!

The weather forecast looking hotter for the next few days, and we hoped the snow would be melting fast. The mamores were in fact the worst place to go on the Saturday- I think other walks had no problems with snow! On the Sunday a group of us set up the Balahulish Horseshoe, which is still one of my favourite walks. Lovely, short walk in, steep ascent which happened very fast, and an amazing ridge walk, with views up Glencoe and Bidean nan bian, and views of the ardnamurchan penisular. The constant sunshine and nap half way up (including audible snoring from some members of the party) certainly helped! Such a different feel from walking in winter, no care in the world about how far we had to go, navigation or winter safety, and with

4 those exams left far behind… ah I wish I could fast forward to that now! And to round it all off that evening I believe we feasted on spag bol- with a twist- the remains of the deer that had been slaughtered for the Cairngorm’s trip of September ’11 had been minced and kept in Tom’s freezer all year, so was made into the most amazing bolognaise!

As a 3 day trip, its pretty customary (in Ullapool almost mandatory) to have a ‘faff’ on one day of the trip, and a day off walking. However, with the weather being so amazing, and the walks pretty relaxed, if still long, we felt no need. So I ‘organized’ the Aonach Eagach walk (with John Mann writing the route card and everything!), a fantastic scrambly ridge above Glen Coe. Skirton made her what must be hundredth ascent of Curved ridge with Mead and Tizzy, and I’ve no idea about everyone else. The weather felt about 20 degrees even at 900 metres, and we struggled on the extremely steep ascent up to the ridge, not helped by the amazing views behind us of the three sisters of Glencoe, which rewarded us every time we stopped. I think lunch may have been had even before we started scrambling on the ridge. The scramble itself was amazing, just the right amount of exposure to keep the adrenaline going, and doing it in the hot sun with warm dry rock made it really good. Wouldn’t go near it in rain, mist or winter conditions though… We enjoyed our walk so much that we decided to tick off the Pap of Glencoe while we were at it, and were rewarded of fantastic views of Loch Leven under evening light. We then drove back to Edinburgh, one of John’s soundtrack CDs inevitably playing as we sped back through Glencoe and across Rannoch More… take me back! Photos courtesy of John Mann and Alex Mead.

th 25 Anniversary Trip

As the Diamond Jubilee Weekend was celebrated this June, a smaller and no less triumphant event was held in Comrie Croft, Perthshire: Edinburgh University’s Hillwalking club 25th Anniversary trip. Members from all four decades of its existence travelled from around Europe to attend for three days of revelry, where old

and new stories were swapped over great meals, a ceilidh and, of course, some walking!

Beginning on Saturday afternoon, the customary meet at Pleasance meant piling in to minibuses and cars, superbly co-ordinated by current club members for the short drive to Perth. With the whole hostel hired out, it was clear many had fond memories of their time in the club and whilst perfect for those partial to a warm bed, other accommodation included Swedish Katas furnished with sheepskins and wood-burning stoves. That evening, barbeques were lit as people discussed walks for the next day, drinks were shared and photo albums passed around.

Though most people's lives have changed a lot since their university days, the landscapes were just as beautiful as the ones in the photos. No time for nostalgia though! 20km walks are not enough to prevent hillwalkers from scrubbing up nice. Kilts, bow-ties and dresses were worn for a three course meal in the barn, beautifully strewn with fairy lights. Pinned up photos attested to the enduring traditions of the club; the Burn’s night supper, breath-taking scenery, silly summit poses, good eating - and drinking sometimes - all having their place, whereas fashion has not. Red gaiters are a thing of the past thankfully. After dinner was the Ceilidh and the band kept all on their feet. A fire in the courtyard with drinks following meant the walks for the next day were not as strenuous, but all agreed the weekend was a great success.

At dinner, toasts to the next 25 years were made and though it will be challenge to have as enjoyable a weekend as the one organised this year, many look forward to it. Many thanks to the brilliant efforts of current members, those who attended and the alumni engagement team for helping to make the weekend possible! May the Munroe counts be even higher next time!

Arrochar Daytrip

So another year and another bunch of freshers about to be put through the wringer but then I’m one to talk. Back in 2010 I went to Crianlarich and climbed Ben More and Stob Binnein – BIG MISTAKE. However the general mood in the camp was nervy or maybe it was just me – this was my first time organising a hill walk – but you could tell from the fact that pretty much everyone chose easier walks but even these would prove difficult. Despite my nerves I planned to climb Beinn Narnain and Ben Ime but this didn’t happen due to lack of demand which, in hindsight, isn’t that surprising.

Instead I took half of Briony’s group, which was huge, up Ben Ime. The walk started slow and then it got worse. Claire Smith hoped to take a group up The Cobbler, which was in the same direction, but one girl’s boot fell apart so she had to be taken back down and the rest of her group joined mine making a total of 13 – which felt like being thrown in at the deep end. After that progress was slow despite the good paths as two of Claire’s group, how shall I put it, had very little idea of what they had let themselves in for. The climb then got worse as the path faded into bog as we began the final leg to the summit. We then got to a point where we only had half an hour to reach the summit so I reluctantly decided to leave those two people (plus one of mine to look after them) behind which was a hard decision to make as it was very cold that day and there could have been a risk of hypothermia. The one crumb of comfort I had was knowing that Briony’s group hadn’t walked past us on their way back down yet so she could pick them up and take them down. We then reached the summit just in time and with few clouds we had amazing views as usual. Apart from the cold conditions were perfect. The descent took nowhere near as long as the ascent and we reached the pub with about an hour and a half to spare. Considering this was my first time organising a hill walk I think I did OK. Even though my people skills aren’t the best in the world and I was quite fast for most of my group I hope I gave them a great day out.

When we reached the pub Briony was already there which isn’t that surprising since she did the same walk as me but with way fewer people. Ali was also there. He took a group up Ben Narnain and the Cobbler which was considered a much harder walk than mine. I think Claire did eventually walk up the Cobbler but because of her delay she arrived after us. Weirdly Justin arrived just before the bus did. He walked up A’ Chrois and Ben Narnain which was placed between mine and Ali’s in the order of difficulty. He was probably faffing or something like that. James Fathers had proposed to walk up Ben Vane, Ben Ime and Ben Narnain which was far and away the hardest walk going so again no one signed up which again isn’t that surprising. Overall I think we all had a very good day. The weather was almost perfect, the views were stunning as were the hills themselves, especially the Cobbler. I can’t wait to go back there and walk the other hills.

Looking to go to the Scottish highlands and give hill walking a go for the first time, I signed up with my flatmate to the Crainlarich trip, neither of us quite knowing what to expect! We decided to try the intermediate walk, a really steep climb up two Munroe peaks, and as the only two girls in the group were faced with the challenge of keeping up with the fast CrianLarich Daytrip pace set by the others. Quickly realising that “hill walking” wasn’t a simple matter of strolling through hills but would also involve jumping over ditches, scrabbling over rocks (and unfortunately for me falling face first into the mud!), I began to have thoughts of giving up and going home. But thanks to the friendliness and encouragement of everyone else in the group (and realising that it was further to go back than carry on!) I’m glad to say we made it. Taking

breaks next to streams and waterfalls made me realise how worth it all the effort was, and I will never forget the amazing feeling of reaching the peak of the first Munroe and looking back to see how far we had climbed! Overall I really enjoyed it and it was an amazing experience, but next time we’ll make sure we join the beginner’s walk instead!

- JB

Cannich

The second trip of the year was to Glen Cannich, a remote area North of the Great Glen and a good four hour drive from Edinburgh. Sadly the weather was forecast to be fairly damp, windy and cloudy for the entire weekend. Strangely for a trip committee sign up had been minimal and in their stead were Goliaths from the past Steve 'I'm so old' Deslandes and Roy 'I need to be loved' Woolley. There was also a huge freshers contingent which was good to see and quite unusual. Members of the committee present included young Lucy Nunn, Tonje Moen, James Fathers, and Gregor 'battle of the' Boyne.

The trip started in characteristic fashion with chips and Irn Bru in Avimore in order to break up the long drive North. Saturday's walks were all fairly conservative given the weather forecast but it actually turned out to be much better than expected and Munros were bagged in good order. I did a walk around Loch Affric in fine sunshine and saw many beautiful things.

In the evening a delicious dinner of bologense was consumed and afterwards Steve Deslandes produced his guitar and wild singing went on into the night. The freshers clanned together and ended up playing some sort of crude drinking game in which they consumed far more alcohol than all of us old people and then crashed out at around 10pm. Roy Woolley got drunk and disgraced himself in characteristic fashion. Claire Tunaley and Mark 'The Hammond' Hammonds retired early to the expensive love nest that Mark Hammonds had purchased with his fancy job money and love was consummated in fine fashion (at least, I assume it was, I wasn't there to oversee matters, really). One new member had too much to drink and decided it was her lonely job to clean the entire hostel for the evening, no one stopped her.

Cannich was also the first trip of a previously unknown young girl called Charlie Arnold, a 5th year veterinary student and refugee from the mountaineering club. Charlie brought her

QUOTE: "We need to clean a lot of stuff out of this car- bottles, rubbish... and bras!" James- after sharing a car with three girls for two weeks got a bit too much. 8

dog with her which I think it was called 'fudge' or 'fucker' or something like that, the dog spent the whole time in Charlie's bedroom depriving others of sleep and urinating on the floor and I think it even interrupted a fledging sexual encounter at one point. Charlie spent the entire trip sitting on the same sofa in the communal area looking thoroughly pissed off with the whole weekend. On the Saturday she was taken on a walk with Callum McCue and was nearly murdered by his navigational skills. It turned out that Charlie and I had met the previous summer on a fairly random encounter in the Lake District and as the trip progressed it became clear that poor Charlie had fallen madly in love with me when we had first met and had joined the Hillwalking club with the sole intention of becoming my wife. To date she has not been successful.

Given the good weather in the face of a pessimistic forecast Sunday's walks were much more adventurous. I climbed two fairly dull Munros in Glen Affric and it rained a fair bit and was quite windy. I remember one new girl looking at me in the wind on a ridge and saying "Are we going to die?" which I thought was quite hilarious. It also snowed on one of the tops and this was one Antipodian girl's first experience of snow ever. How we laughed.

Mead Cairngorms Freshers Weekend Trip by James Fathers

For our first freshers weekend trip, we were off to the Cairngorms, staying at the massive Cairngorm Lodge SYHA hostel, about as close to the hills as you can get. Arriving Friday evening, we found a huge kitchen, many sofas, a pool table and a TV equipped with the biggest collection of Disney on VHS you’ll ever see. Not that we were there to watch TV of course; and anyone who dared to turn it on was subjected to Lucy’s glare. Unusually for us, we didn’t actually have the whole place to ourselves, but if there was anyone else staying there they must have kept well out of our way – a group of 50 students can have that effect. Mead decided on a new method to spare others from his snoring; sleeping in his car. However, he didn’t get a very good night’s sleep; the cold, lack of space and succession of people who went outside to rock his car saw to that.

Anyway, onto Saturday’s walks! Ali and Lucy took a group out to the sole munro of Bynack More, whilst I led one over Cairngorm and onto Beinn Mheadhoin. Justin however trumped everyone else by joining up Cairngorm, Beinn Mheadhoin AND Ben Macdui. Despite the length, he got quite a few people signed up, including, to everyone’s surprise, anti-bagger Julia. Though we now suspect she was more interested in zebra hunting than the munros.

Despite an indecisive weather forecast, the day turned out quite nicely. My group had a great time skirting round picturesque Loch Avon, having a look at the Shelter Stone and scrambling onto the tors on top of Beinn Mheadhoin. Out on the Cairngorm plateau it really does feel like you’re a million miles from civilisation, especially as we only encountered one other person the whole time. I even managed to lose one of my group, though it was only in the ski car park at the end of the walk; Connor disappeared into an exhibit and was lost for some time. I should admit however; it was bloody freezing, during the brief period the cloud came in on snow-capped Cairngorm, it seemed like mid-winter rather than early October. So, given the amount of time they’d spent out, it was perhaps unsurprising that Justin’s group looked thoroughly freezing when I picked them up a little later. Freezing, but all alive. Upon return we discovered that Euan, Skirton and Karolina had skived walking altogether, to go mountain biking.

Euan and Briony (MOs) then served up the customary fantastic feast, with only one brief panic over Maciej’s lactose intolerance. That evening a few musical instruments appeared, Lucy’s violin and Skirton’s guitar I think, which was great fun but apparently almost incurred the wrath of the hostel warden. Playing pool and drinking Cairngorms Brewery beer continued well into the night, which would perhaps explain why a few chose to faff on the next day.

Sunday saw yet another group up off Bynack More (walking so fast it felt a bit like a forced march), Ali went around to Glen Feshie, whilst Euan, Skirton and Karolina again found themselves on mountain bikes. Eskdale

“That’s the most wrong a walk has ever gone for me” – John “God of the goatee” Mann

It’s fair to say that my first hillwalking club experience turned out to be an epic affair. A hefty covering of snow, hilltop hailstorms, stunning scenery and a dose of night-time walking to made for an interesting day to say the least. Saturday’s walk, as organised by John Mann, took in three fantastic Wainwright peaks, and a fourth that seemed to constitute little more than a bump in our descent.

The route took us up Lingmell, across to the not-actually-that-high- highpoint of England that is Scafell Pike, and then on to the stunning and spectacular peak of Sca Fell, before heading back towards Eskdale. The day began in typical Lake District fashion – with clouds and a heavy rain shower. Any fears of a miserable day of weather proved, however, to be unfounded. With the exception of one stinging hail storm at the top of Scafell Pike the weather remained clear.

The views here were exceptional, the Lake District proving itself to be a worthy match for even the most breath-taking spots of Scotland. Snow to pped hills surrounded us and in the distance we could gaze out as far as the Isle of Mann (no relation to John) and, best of all, admire the manmade beauty of Sellafield Nuclear Power Plant.

These views were at their most spectacular from Sca Fell. The steep and snowy ascent here was more than worthwhile with the sunset as we descended Sca Fell providing a scene of particular beauty and calm. Until, that is, Briony “Oh shit, I’ve fallen again” McIntosh came tobogganing past you once more on her back. A longer than expected walk back from Sca Fell may have resulted in a late return to the hostel but this was a minor flaw in a cracking day of walking.

The day was rounded off nicely with a well-earned beer or five at the local pub, complete with folk session and a very bizarrely located hen party. Attempted Elt on John renditions aside, a successful hillwalking club initiation.

QUOTE: When discussing a memorial bench- "Why do you think they died? Avalanche?" Julia: "Did you say a nice place to have lunch?" (Selective hearing: I was hungry!) 10

QUOTE: When discussing a memorial bench- "Why do you think they died? Avalanche?" Julia: "Did you say a nice place to have lunch?" (Selective hearing: I was hungry!) 11

Navigation Skills Course at Firbush, November 2012

Hillwalking is pretty simple – you find some hills and walk on them, right? Well, yes…..but it isn’t always that straightforward. What if you don’t know where you’re going, or the weather turns bad and visibility is reduced to the length of your arm, or that mountain just isn’t where you thought it should be? One solution is to find a competent walk leader and follow them, and this strategy works well for a while. However, at some point, usually when nobody will lead the epic hike you have in mind and you realise that if you want to do it you’re going to have to do it yourself, learning to navigate safely seems like a good idea. Navigation - at its most basic level, knowing where you are and 1 It definitely isn't going to rain today. how to get to where you want to go - is a pretty fundamental skill for walking safely in the mountains. So, on the weekend of 9th-11th November 2012, ten members of EUHWC set out for Firbush, to do a Navigation Skills course.

The weekend started well, with a huge dinner! After this we had a quick recap on correct use of a compass and measuring accurate grid references, identifying features on the map and selecting the best way to get from one point to another, followed by a short exercise in taking bearings from a map and plotting points on a route card.

The morning was bright and clear – sort of. After breakfast, and all 2 Where are we? The bus isn't marked on the map kitted out for a day in the hills, we loaded into a minibus along with two Firbush instructors and were driven to the start of the day’s walk. We divided into two groups, were given maps, and the first exercise of the day was to determine our location on the map – not as easy as it might sound, particularly if you spent the bus journey napping off a three- course breakfast and paying no attention to where the bus was going.

During the course of the day, we navigated a pathless route over what initially seemed like fairly featureless terrain, stopping frequently to choose the next identifiable waypoint, take bearings, and learn various techniques. Important points included setting the map, contour interpretation, i.e. visualising the shape of the landscape by looking at contour intervals, using features such as knolls and re-entrants, and the use of catching features to determine if you have overshot your destination.

We also discussed judging distances – important on featureless terrain – and techniques for estimating how far you’ve travelled, such as timing and pacing, and considered the need for altering basic pacing to account for slope. Despite the threat of impending darkness and a more disturbing threat of not going right to the top, to teach us that bagging the summit isn’t the most important thing, we finished the day with a steep, snowy ascent to the summit of Ben Heasgarnich and a remarkably quick return to the bus, and were greeted by a huge plate of cake on our return. 3 Very wet feet will indicate that you've gone too far In the evening, after another amazing dinner – Firbush is worth visiting for the food alone! – we watched a video recapping some of the things we had learnt during the day, then retired to the common room for a few drinks and some Jungle Speed. On Sunday morning we again split into our groups and set off on the minibus, this time to different locations. We started at the foot of the 4 Not everyone had a natural aptitude for Jungle Speed. beautiful Lawers range, which looked amazing with its snow-covered Distinguishing shapes and colours can't be important for navigation..... 12

peaks and dramatic ridges, and began a more conventional path walk, practicing timing and pacing to various points, and concentrating on ticking off features from the map as we passed them. The initial easy walking conditions allowed plenty of time for practicing observation skills, picking out detail from the landscape and sensing how the ground was changing beneath our feet. The weather was not in our favour, and the final ascent to the summit of Beinn Ghlas over icy ground in horrendous winds was…..interesting….. However, it did provide an opportunity to discuss the added challenges of navigating in winter, when snow-covered terrain, avalanche risk, poor visibility and bad weather can turn even the simplest walk into a demanding ordeal. As we all know, summer walks in Scotland never involve bad weather or poor visibility. Owing to the serious wind-chill, we didn’t stay long near the summit, instead hastily retreating to lower ground where we considered using slope aspect to pinpoint location on 5 Perfect spot for lunch - not even cold or anything the map. Firbush is a great location, and the course instructors are very friendly and knowledgeable. This was a really fun and useful course, which allowed us to learn and practice many navigation techniques, and increased our confidence out on the mountains. I’ve since put the skills I learned on the course to use in a number of testing situations, and realised that planning my own routes, making up route cards and taking more responsibility for safety and navigation adds a whole new dimension to hiking. I’d thoroughly recommend the course to any aspiring walk leaders! 'Twas a few weeks before Christmas: An EUHWC version Braemar 30th Nov - 2nd Dec

'Twas a few weeks before Christmas, when all through house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. All had brought presents wrapped up with care, in hopes that St. Mead soon would be there.

The students were nestled all snug in the lounge, With beer, and wine, whatever they could scrounge. After a day on the hill, waiting for presents to unwrap Dinner, then Santa, then all off for a nap.

When inside the kitchen there arose such a clatter, Herman in it seemed was the cause of said matter. Pascale it appeared didn't appreciate his help, As loudly she told him with a bit of a yelp.

Outside the window on the ground there lay snow Perfect for snowballs later they'd throw, Then from the darkness slowly drew near, Tuck and his group at last did appear.

Ben Macdui it seemed wasn't so quick, Even for one so experienced and slick. The longest walk, back at last they came, Finally the group all together again.

Then came the food, It had never tasted so good.

Even the sprouts, not a bit of it bad, All of it eaten, no leftovers to be had. "Mmm Sprouts" Back to the lounge, stomachs full of dinner, All of the group a little less thinner. St. Mead they were told, was ever so near, The wait made much better by plenty of beer.

He was dressed all in red, arriving just in time, Though as white as his beard was, it was covered in wine. A bin bag of toys he had slung on his back, Then he called out, to come take from his sack.

The President was first to sit on his knee, St.Mead's eyes they did sparkle full up with glee Then on and on the presents did flow, All neatly wrapped up, some with a bow. "Hello Santa" Chocolate it seemed would often appear, Then slowly the presents became ever so queer. Claire, a DVD about doing the strip, Karolina, a banana, condom over the tip. Briony enjoys her present the day after. The presents all gone, St.Mead he did leave, And that was the end of the club's, Christmas eve. Long walks the day after, evening turned to night, Then out in the dark there was a snow fight.

That bright Sunday morning, walking all did go, Wandering around the hills ankle-deep in snow. Cliffe discovered getting lost was no fun, His toes left, looking ever so glum.

The minibus made getting home a bit numb, The heater it seemed had packed up and gone. Wiping the window to try keep it clear, Winter it seemed was definitely here.

A weekend of fun and plenty of cheer, Especially when St.Mead did appear. And we heard him exclaim, 'ere he disappeared out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" By Callum Girdwood

Glen Lyon Daytrip – 8 December 2012 Jona Fras

Winter hillwalking trips are always a bit, um, dubious. The days are short and the weather can get vindictive. Ironically, the time of year when it’s most annoying and dangerous to come down a hill in the dark is exactly when you’re most likely to. But if you’re crazy enough to do it, better doing it in company than alone – right? And this is why I never regret coming on hillwalking trips, even if the horrors of Scottish weather often end up quashing the organisers’ hill-bagging aspirations. At least you have the comfort of knowing that there are people in the same boat as you! All things considered, the December jaunt to Glen Lyon proved to be quite nice. Some quick but intensive brow-furrowing over maps and route cards produced two rather ambitious walks, one planning to go up two and the other no less than four summits. The weather forecast was... decent, so it didn’t seem too far-fetched.

I decided to tag along with the group doing the four-hill circuit. It started off quite nice, with a wide, well-kept path winding its way through a wood and then a sharp-edged valley with the promise of hills not far beyond. But it wasn’t to last... We soon turned off and headed towards the first summit, and once we hit the snow the going got tougher. Much tougher. It was a wet, heavy snow, blanketing the slopes completely so that it was impossible to tell what kind of terrain lay under it. You might sink in deep to your waist and then on the very next step bump your ankle against an errant rock. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a lovely deep-white cloud waiting for us at the top of the hill.

Maps and compasses and pacing saved us... Our watches, on the other hand, weren’t quite as kind. The weather thankfully improved once we continued along the ridge; but there was still the snow to cope with. We hit the second summit with only two or three hours of daylight left. Once we realized we’d need at least a couple to get back, our laziness got the better of us, and we just headed straight down.

Our head torches stayed in our packs that day. The other group – they were doing a walk on the other side of the glen, just across from us – weren’t quite as lucky. It had gotten pitch dark by the time they came back down to the minibus. We weren’t too worried – they had experienced guidance after all! – but it was still a relief to see them return safe and sound.

And even though our plans had been cut short, I get the feeling we all enjoyed ourselves. The photos testify to that. Of course, now there’s some unfinished business left for me in Glen Lyon... but there’s hardly a better excuse to go back!

Isle of Mull New Year’s Trip By Julia Thomas, Lucy Wormald and Ruth Ginty

The journey itself was excitement enough, When Ali decided he "actually quite liked it a bit rough."

Hope did return to our hearts, When only on the third attempt the ferry departs.

Once there we caused quite a racket... Briony was drunk by 10pm, in a washing basket! There was an impromptu ceilidh in the street Where everyone danced to the beat.

Then came the bells and the final hour, When we all ventured out to the clock tower. The local's celebrations were overwhelmed by EUHWC Eclipsed by Julia and Donald's swim in the sea Accompanied by a slightly bewildered otter Which Lucy thought was all quite improper!

She was not was not best impressed When drunken Julia could not get undressed Celebrations continued into the night, Descending into a rave with improvised strobe lights. The party reached new heights, When the boys stripped off their tops (much to Skirton’s delight!)

To our disgust, next morning, Charlie and Janni felt no ill effects And raced up Ben More, we were very perplexed. Predictably there was at least one bad hangover, Meaning we couldn't go fast in Steve's old rover Poor Donald he thought he would be sick But two swims on New Year’s Day- we can’t take the mick.

Upon the beach a pod of whales did descend, For a New Year swim - as a much needed hangover mend, One large local competed with our best male whales, Stripping off his clothes to reveal his skin – so pale! He dispersed the whole ocean of its water, But my goodness did he have a whale of a time!

The food for Mull was rather grand, And nothing tasted the slightest bit bland. We dined on bolognaise, jambalaya and curry, During which Lucy’s foot was scolded amidst the hurry.

QUOTE: "Luxembourg: so small we keep falling off the sides of it." -James F. after being misdirected off the country twice. 16

Another day we went hunting for a cave, Where Mead and Mikey designed a Grave. However, their friendship took a slip... When at breakfast, Mike forced Mead to strip! But no fear, he did not lose his pride; He had his beloved smoked salmon behind which to hide.

Much fun was had on Mull by all, Hopefully again we shall call, What a way to start the year... But there will be another trip next year, don't fear!

Winter Introductory Daytrips Jim Trappitt

As the large number of incidents across the country this past season have shown, Scotland’s hills in winter can be quite challenging and should not be taken lightly. Having the skills and experience to be able to confidently walk in the snow (and just as important, where and when not to walk) can bring immense pleasure, which is why the Club arranges these taster days for people who haven’t had the opportunity of being out on a snowy day before.

Briony and Gregor took a group on Saturday to Ben Ledi, and on Sunday it was myself and James’s turn - going to Glen Shee after the usual red-eye morning start of 7.00 so that everyone could get to the Pleasance and have crampons fitted and ice axes issued before setting off into the gathering dawn.

We arrived at the Spittal Hotel for about 10.00 and with the weather forecast looking pretty good were ready to set off. But wait… - there is one extra thing to check before going out during the winter - the avalanche forecast; so on to the first bit of instruction for the day: Acquiring and interpreting that, and then on that basis deciding where to go for the walk. Most of the usual Munros were off-limits on that basis; so this gave us the chance to walk on the “other” side of the valley, where the snow would be stable and where the Cateran Trail, one of Scotland’s long distance footpaths, winds its way up the glen.

We walked off down the path of the Cateran Trail, getting to know what people in the group had done in the way of walking before. Quite a few folk were out for the first time in snow and were really looking forward to the day, which although cloudy was not too cold or actually snowing and had plenty of snow on the ground to allow people to test the fitness of their boots for winter walking.

After walking down the track for about twenty minutes it was time to head up the hill a bit and dig an avalanche test pit to show how snow layers change with depth and how some can come away with only the slightest of pressure… Luckily the snowpack was firm and refused to budge, so we were quite safe.

On a bit further, and after finding what I hoped would be a suitable place, it was time to practice ice axe arrests. As it turned out the snow was too soft to get any sort of speed up, but we did manage to show everyone at least the basics of how to hold the axe properly and what to do to use it to stop yourself after a fall, even if upside down and on your back!

Next, after a spot of lunch, it was time to try out the

QUOTE:”Ah Guys, I think we’re on the wrong hill”- Julia. 17

crampons - putting them on and walking in them. Again, the snow was a bit too soft for people to see the real benefit of them; but even just getting the hang of walking in them without tripping up was something most of the group had not done before, so was quite useful.

By then, it was getting quite late. Well, it was actually just after 3.00pm, but darkness comes early in winter (another lesson to be learnt); so as the gloom started to close in we headed back the way we had come, arriving at the main track just as it got dark and then on to the pub for a well-deserved hot chocolate or beer.

But the day’s excitement was not over yet. The minibus was stuck in the snow in the hotel car park! It took about forty minutes of everyone pushing this way and shoving that way, plus some digging out of snow with a shovel, to get the bus up on to the main road before we were ready for the return to Edinburgh after a successful day.

Everybody had had a great time and had learned a lot. Those people who had been out for the first time in winter felt much more relaxed about being out in snow and, as later trips would prove, were really keen to go out again into the great Scottish winter wilderness with a greater degree of confidence and safety.

Burns Trip

The EUHWC Burns trip is always eagerly anticipated, and this year was no exception. With great winter walks around Loch Lochy, speeches, copious amounts of alcohol and enough haggis to feed William Wallace himself, what more could you want from a Hillwalking trip?

However, for some of us the trip nearly didn't happen at all, as one of the minibuses refused to start. With the rest of the group already gone, a few of us were left anxiously waiting in the gear room for news of a replacement bus. Eventually we had to give up, and try to arrange transport the next morning. Thankfully James managed to hire a minibus first thing, and pretty soon we were back on our way to join the others at Loch Lochy. It was too late to climb any hills, but that didn't mean the day was wasted – we had brought some survival bags, which can double as pretty effective sledges when needed.

Meanwhile the others were getting ready to do some proper hillwalking. A couple of groups headed up to the beautiful Loch Quoich, aiming for a full day's walking. However the snow was much deeper than expected, forcing them to turn back near the top.

Back at the hostel, it was time for the evening’s festivities drunken lunacy. First up – the full three course Burns supper. Vegetable soup followed by the obligatory haggis, neeps and tatties. Dessert was cream and oats with a raspberry sauce. There was so

much food that even after seconds, and thirds, there was enough left over for cold haggis the next morning.

But as well as an excellent excuse to eat, Burns night can also be a very serious affair. We had readings from the bard's work by Doug and Roy, a Scots quiz fro m James, and as always

Jim's excellent address to the haggis, complete with carving the haggis with a ceremonial ice axe. There was also the toast to the lassies, and the lassies’ reply, where the members of the club get the piss thoroughly taken out of them. To make the evening even more memorable, we had ordered a couple of kegs of some of the Skye Brewery's finest ales, which were quickly depleted. One beer in particular – the Cuillin Beast – definitely lived up to its name. I'm pretty sure that as soon it was opened, everyone’s dignities went downhill rapidly. Pretty soon the night had devolved into drunken games, all of which seemed to include falling over a lot, clinging on to the undersid e of a table, or spinning around inside a bothy bag (although to be fair, that last one was only Claire Lyons.)

Breakfast the next morning was a sorry sight, with plenty of empty bottles and baggy eyes. But we hillwalkers are nothing if not resilient, and before long everyone was heading out to try and bag some Munros. Unfortunately the weather was closing in, with some pretty ominous snow-clouds drifting over. Most people settled for doing low-level walks around Loch Lochy, with some more intrepid groups heading east to Drumochter in search of better weather. Sadly, the wind and rain stopped anyone reaching the summit.

The crap weather may have meant Burns wasn't the most successful trip in terms of actual walking, but I don't think anyone cared. With great food, drink and craic, it was definitely a memorable trip. Bring on burns 2014!

Stuart North

The lassies of our club are only interested in one thing, Getting a man and a big shiny ring. Toast to the For Lucy we know potential men have tough tests to pass, lassies A good example was in her French class. It seems one man who managed to entrance her,

QUOTE: "I don't want to use the toilet because I'll make a mess and have to use my towel!" Skirton (the toilets were equipped with a hose) 19

Was her fellow classmate and Mexican salsa And all that it took was a few stares. dancer, He may already have been taken, But no matter how exotic, how talented, how flirty, But it wasn’t long until sweet love they were She couldn’t get over the fact he was only thirty, making. For Lucy needs a man with an established career, Going for a cycle does sound so law abiding, How else could he afford to buy all her gear? But soon from the policeman’s wrath they were On Mull we found out that perhaps some exercise hiding! would be best, He said, as it was dark, When her heavy footed dancing broke the toy At a B&B they must park. chest. Skirton thought wey hey, I would perhaps have suggested some jogging, For this, most certainly, was going to be her day! But instead she ended up in a Glencoe carpark For Alison Warnock Eskdale was nice, dogging. For it was the trip she only fell over twice. Lucy is incapable of driving you see, Though she’s never experienced anything quite But unlike Julia hasn’t yet hit a tree. like those hot aches, Julia may have forgotten the handbrake, Even the thought still means she quakes! But this year that’s not her only mistake! Briony couldn’t help but laugh, There was her laptop left in a superstore, When she slid down the hill into Maciej’s calf! Or her phone in Inverness which hurt even more! Though on Mull she was having such a blast it, And while the freshers were getting in rounds, Meant she ended up in a laundry basket! There was poor Julia miscounting by fifteen Whilst you may all think couply photos are a bit hundred pounds! dumb, After that she needed a stiff drink, Don’t dare tell that to little Claire and her mum! But then she’s an alcoholic I do think. Although mocking Claire’s mum is normally the For when the pub crawl was approaching, way, She made sure no other engagements were It would be mean as today’s her birthday! encroaching! This time last year, In Bongo she found herself a man of the savannah, In amongst all the beer, And that definitely ended her night in nirvana! There was an epic drinking game, Some people’s evenings are much more sedentary, Where Claire Lyons found her fame, Like those studying hard in the library, So hard she was trying, And there amongst all the hushed discussion, Until the vomit started flying! Was our Fiona giving herself concussion! Most of our lassies are half way obese, When Skirton moved on from Alex Mead, And the silly things they do will never cease, Who was to know where it would lead. But despite everything wrong about them, There was the surgeon from Norway, There’s no way we could live with just men. But there she made no headway. So everyone, please, raise your glasses, But then there was the man from downstairs, It’s time for a toast, to our wonderful lasse The Lassie’s Reply

And now, finally it’s my turn, Little Euan was dismayed To give a nod to Burns When Gregor took his place in the basket dance- not ok! And impress you with my linguistic prowess Though for being vertically challenged he may be famed But I must disappoint- I’m no Janni, I must confess His love of his subject puts us to shame A rhyme scheme? What relevance is that? As he bored the fresher’s on the coach But not the driver- whom he approached When talking of Meady being a twat With never ending questions and fuss Of course all I needed to know was that On the size and inner workings of his bus Whale rhymes with fail and that’s that! And when turning 21 a plastic digger was placed Atop his cake- you should have seen his face! And so I begin: Christmas came, and from the kitchen the men did run, There once was an Irish lad of fame, Leaving the lassies to have their fun, Our President he became, Save for one, whose wondrous contribution He trained in Korea Fire and alcohol were the fusion To start his tyranny here That a Russian called German, thought would be fun He considers himself the alpha male, But we all know he’s more of a whale. Santa got a little bit merry He requires a throne- and refuses the floor And his beard was the colour of berries And thinks committee meetings to be a bore. He insists it was wine, A Pub Crawl? What’s the need? But Hammonds had less tasteful ideas, the swine, I’d rather be in bed if I can’t lead! That pair really do need to be put in line Only the prospect of lochinver pies make him walk at speed But Santa, for who do you pine? As time grew short on suilven, the sweat did bead Our dear leader shrinks in terror Mead insists that he is not a posh old twat From jumping off a sand dune- an error Yet his dressing-gown makes him look fat When five girls went before him so he could not bail He binges on smoked salmon But it must have been quite a challenge for a whale. While others experience famine As he enjoys observing on his gap yahs Along comes James, saviour of the day Before he chunders everywhere Missing trips though, for an overnight essay- When the Himalayan’s on his latest trip stole his underwear It’s really not ok in final year dear, Nor is finding a bra in your car. I fear And what delights were we offered in our secret santa? Events in Europe left him traumatised, A box of chocolates, or a horse back canter? With three girls to organise. No, instead a well protected banana and a Strip tease. Boys, Purrlllease! Wee Stuart North These men are certainly lacking Is quite the dark horse That is why we so often send them packing Debates are ongoing about events in bongo Was that his girlfriend with whom he did go? A wise old Janni once did write: Likewise on Mull he drunk so much booze About foreigners and finding our culture too tight, That he had to go for an all day snooze That the Germans are with boobies quite au fait, That night, he fell on top of Jim As Jim Jam discovered on the top of Carn Eighe. In the bunk below, and missed the new years swim This year we have not a German, but an Aussie, Anton found his clothes too hot- being used to his cozy Oh Gregor you are ginger, And thought it apt to strip to his undies And you could be described as a ninja In a national trust car park, frightening the lassies! Your rugby past makes you in to a real man And so from girls’ dorms there was a ban Remember, Remember, The fifth of Movember

When John Mann shaved off his beard Our dig for dirt failed, Doug, And with sponsorship money we adhered So EUHWC Man of the Year – have a hug!

One member could have fallen over a Cliffy And how could I forget little Roy Woolley Instead he got frostbite- but was back in a jiffy Who we all thought was a bit of a bully Jonathon Cains is our own BFG But what do we know? He seems to have found a soft spot And Jim watch out- Ben Vickers is your mini me! For a certain Mexican, who may not quite know her lot.

Donald Slater On that note, members who hang on to us for dear life You are quite the painter Do seem to cause a lot of strife Of imagery far better than Ali’s Matt!!!, Jim, Karl and Roy, But you do know Back again, oh joy. Your age is beginning to show. We heard of cycling trips far and wide For those, not ridiculous enough for a mentionI hope you Yet it turns out you never left your bed-side aren’t dismayed at your lack of attention Not long before like Mead, your banter But at least you now know Turns to dressing up as Santa. The men with whom you have to compete Really you are yet another a whale Whom it wouldn’t take much to beat, And just a bit of a fail. And cause enough scandal To go down in club history- I hope we’re not too much to In contrast, Doug handle! You are certainly not a thug Your intricate study of fine art So with that I conclude, Is but a small glimpse of your kind heart My lassie’s reply- I hope it’s not too rude… Your hair is oh so fair- And that hat, To the lads of this club! oh my are you a smart chap

Glen Shiel 16th-17th FebruaryBy Alex Collins

On the first day, we headed up the Three Brothers of Kintail. The conditions were very snowy, making navigation tricky. The Three Brothers James' navigational challenge was made even more difficult by his lunch parting ways down the hillside at breakneck speed.

However – the decent from the brothers was the easiest I've ever Achieving the perfect slide had. We rocketed down the entire height of the hill on our bums!

On Sunday, Mead and I led a walk along the ridge to the east of Craig Meagaidh. We walked most of the way along the ridge with beautiful views across to the snow covered Stob Poite Coire Ardair and towards The Window. We then decided to mess around in the snow for an hour, testing out the optimum technique for sliding down the hill on a survival bag.

Our decent was a very rapid one. After our extensive sliding tests – we went all the way down on our bums again! Simon Coffey

Mead feeding the starving children demonstrated particular insanity by disappearing head first down the hill when he first heard of the prospect of sliding down... A fantastic trip – with not a single hill descended by conventional means.

Blair Atholl Day Trip 2nd March

We set off at 6 in the morning and headed up to Blair Atholl, rewarded for the early start with a lovely view of the sunrise over the Forth Rail Bridge. It was a small trip with only two walk options; one an attempt at the three Beinn a’ Ghlo munros and the other a walk to a single munro with a 10km walk-in through Glen Tilt.

Our walk was to Carn a’ Chlamain which apparently means hill of the buzzard – we didn’t spot any buzzards but did see some ptarmigan. The walk-in was very straight-forward once we found the start of the path (we accidentally walked into two back-gardens first). Although quite a long walk-in, the glen was very pretty with little water falls, lots of sheep and a Shetland pony. The weather was good (for Scotland) and stayed dry and fairly clear except during the 10 minutes we sat down to have lunch and it decided to rain on us. Despite the clouds all around we had good views when we got to the summit a few minutes later.

Quote of the day: “Alas poor Dolly…” (Inspired by a sheep’s skull lying by the path)

The Beinn a’Ghlo group also had a great day with everything from beautiful views to complete whiteout. They succeeded in climbing two hills and managed to avoid a lot of the walk down by sliding down as much of the

Quotes:

Jasmin- after sliding face-first down a hill in the snow - "I think I just left my right boob on that hill"

Board Game Questions : “what makes clothes in China?” Answer: Children! –Alex Collins

"This bed is at its carrying capacity" – Herman

Following discussion of Ali and Lucy's handover meeting plans: "What did you and Claire do for your 23 handover meeting, Ali?" Ali: "I think we just hugged." mountain as possible. Tizzy Allison

Glen Lyon 3rd March Jasmin Watt

While most of us would spend a cold harsh winter Sunday indoors, curled up by the fire, the Edinburgh Hill Walking team faced a 4 summit challenge including – Cairn Gorm, Meall Garbh, Carn Mairg & Creag Mhor in the beautiful setting of Glen Lyon.

5.00am – The dreaded alarm goes off. 25 students from all over Edinburgh stumble out of their beds and make their way to the meeting point, passing their peers coming home from Hive with a knowing nod.

6.00am - With last night’s club stamp transferred to your face, it’s time to sign up to one of the various walks. Be alert - one wrong turn, you could find yourself scaling Everest... Well not quite. It’s at this point I tactfully eye up who is that looks like they are able to give me a piggy back if the hangover attacks mid-hike.

6.30am Dishevelled, questionably jolly students are bundle into a few buses and set off on their adventure. Music blaring, we remember parts of the club some regrettably only left a few hours ago. Tinted windows and all, we named it the party bus, spirits are high.

6.35am EVERYONE is asleep (excluding the driver).

8.00am A far cry from Edinburgh’s busy streets, the bus navigates the single-lane road, dodging deer, winding through the magnificent Glen Lyon. We arrive at the base of a horse-shoe of mountains towering over us. As we disorderly fall out the van yawning and stretching, wiping the sleep from our eyes we begin the steep snowy ascent up Cairn Gorm.

12.00pm Meall Garbh appears as a mere bump in the wide plateau.

2.00pm Carn Mairg is the highest out of the range as well as looking the most dramatic with its craggy summit. Here we enjoyed our sandwiches with breathtaking views of Glen Lyon, Ben Lawers and Loch Rannoch.

No matter how hectic you’re life is down below, reaching the summit of the Scottish hills gives you a tremendous feeling of wellbeing and achievement which you share with the group.

3.00pm Laughing most of the way (when we weren’t gasping for breath) we complete the horse-shoe including Creag Mhor which offered impressive views of the glen and a sneaky peak at Loch Tay.

3.30pm Let the bum sliding commence, on a cold snowy day there is not a better a way to descend. Hurtling down the slopes we practically sledge through the doors of the local pub to receive our well deserved liquid gold medal, the finest pint! What better way to spend your Sunday!

Glen Coe Briony McIntosh

Glen Coe. The one trip that is on everyone’s list for the year. The drive into the Glen never fails to disappoint, passing up through the remote, eerie Rannoch Mor when suddenly the dramatic valley of Glen Coe appears. First sight the famous Buachaille towering above the roadside and as you drive through the valley on one side in the knife edged Aonoach Eaoch and on the other The Three Sisters. At the end of the road awaits a hostel with a real wood burning fire and only a short walk from one of Scotland’s finest pubs, the Claichaig Inn. After a hard week of work I can’t think of a better way to start off the weekend.

This year’s trip was not to disappoint. Sign up went well and other than a quick double back to Sainsburys after buying half the milk we actually needed the trip was off to a good start. Oh did I forget to mention the forecast? Delightful as always: 80mph gusts with a wind chill of -23°C and an avalanche forecast of considerable for every approach route. It was going to be an exciting weekend.

Driving North was going well and with everyone well fed at the Real Food Cafe (or for those of us in Mead’s car a pub dinner with a landlord who just didn’t understand why on earth Karolina wouldn’t want chips with her mac and cheese) we began the journey into no mans land. As we gained the heights of Rannoch Mor the snow and wind began to make the journey a little more ‘fun’. An overturned lorry and a written off camper van sprouting wires and missing the front door at the side of the road helped to put everyone at ease.

We eventually all made it to the hostel with no disasters and after the usual wrestling for the best beds and getting the fire going walk sign up could happen. With such a bad forecast the consensus was for low level walks in the area with one brave group going for a Corbett. Transport faff out the way we were left to enjoy some well earned pints and relax around the fire.

In the morning we gingerly peered out our bedroom window which caused several groans and no rush to get ready as a howling wind blew snow in every direction. Nevertheless fun on the hills was to be had....that is if we ever reached them. Our bus was the last to pull out of the hostel and as everyone disappeared up the road we didn’t have quite so much luck. Half way up the first ‘hill’ we encountered on the track from the hostel we got stuck and slowly started slipping backwards. Several attempts later we still weren’t getting anywhere despite everyone jumping out to make the load lighter. Feeling like I had to do something to help I offered to run back to the nearest building to see if there was some grit available, a stout old campsite owner said he’d no grit but would see if he could give us a hand meaning a trip up the road for me in an amazing old Landy. Despite this we still couldn’t make it up the hill. We were all beginning to wonder if a day in the hostel was going to be our plan for the day when we were told we could drive the other direction down the road and approach Glen Coe that way. Gavin who did an amazing job wrestling with the bus reversed all the way back down the road and finally we were on our way.

25 Quote: “Alison it's ok, it's not all about the sponge, there are other implements to play with.”-Charlie

Myself, Lucy W, Pascale, Alex, Owen and Chris all opted to do a section of the Westy Way taking in the Devils Staircase from Glen Coe to Kinnlochleven. We jumped out the bus, waved goodbye to Gavin and would hopefully see him again on the other side. Within a few minutes we were suitably wrapped up in our thermals, waterproofs, hats, gloves and goggles and were knee deep in the snow. However, also dropped at the same time from a taxi was a group of tourists, dressed in trainers, jeans and parkas. After being followed for an hour in strong winds and even deepening snow we cut (quite obviously) off track to go and have some coffee and cake.

As we sat down we watched them turn and follow our tracks into the deep snowy undergrowth. We casually pointed out this wasn’t the path to which they replied ‘oh...’. They then proceeded to stand a metre or so away neither getting out the map ‘which they had with them’ or making any sort of move to continue. After an uncomfortable few minutes we made the decision to tell them to turn back as we couldn’t take responsibility for them and they were endangering not only themselves but us as well. Lucy and next years el presidente did a fine job in telling them so. Once we’d lost our shadow we continued on to Kinlochleven (not noticing we’d actually summited the Devils staircase...) where the ice factor offered us a rest from the elements, a roaring fire and hot chocolate.

Dinner that evening was to be pasta bolognaise and chocolate brownies cooked by myself and Lucy W. It turned out to be a very easy meal to prepare and with lashings of herbs and plenty of wine getting added to the bolognaise, and Alex and Chris cooking never ending batches of pasta, all was on track. Pascale even helped out by cooking the veggie bolognaise. While doing this she asked Lucy W about any great cooking disasters that have ever happened on club trips. Lucy W said there hadn’t really been any and just as these sacred words were uttered Pascale somehow managed to tip the entire tub of pepper into a 4 person pan of bolognaise.

The three of us just looked at each other and then sudden panic erupted as we desperately tried to scoop it all out. Disaster averted and no one else knowing dinner was successfully served. The brownies however became the next source of disagreement. Turns out 4 girls in charge of cooking brownies is definitely one too many. The ‘gooee-ness’ of the brownies became the much debated hot to pic of the next hour with Lucy and I going for the slightly under-done option while Julia and Karolina went for the slightly over-done option. When we finally agreed they were ready the silence that took over the hostel confirmed that some happy hillwalkers were enjoying the uber-chocolatey treat.

Walk sign up went much as the evening before with the forecast still very much the same and by half 9 we were en-route to the famous Clachaig Inn with Gregor kindly offering our own personal shuttle service in the bus. We arrived to find the place jam-packed with walkers sheltering from the storm outside and a live band keeping spirits high. The night went well with plenty of drinking, dodgy singing, dodgy dancing and in some cases (cough, Jasmine, cough) some number exchanging. As the place shut up at midnight we all shuffled out into the storm wearing our best beer jackets to make the walk back to the hostel in varying states of drunkedness. I am still amazed no injuries were sustained.

QUOTE: "I'm going to baptise all my cats in a wedding dress" - Lucy W giving up hope of finding a man The next morning conditions were much the same and we all prepared for another day out in the wind. A large group of us made a circuit around the Bideans keeping low in the valleys. It was a great walk and we were relatively sheltered for most of the day. Julia and Lucy W had once again been separated for the day and so I somehow ended up taking on the role of mother. The first tea break and I was happily enjoying some coffee and a double chocolate cookie when I hear ‘Briony....’. ‘Yes, Lucy’. Nothing. Ah yes that was the hint for some coffee and cookie, how silly of me. This continued for most of the day, I don’t know how you do it Julia.

Arriving back at the bus to make the journey south we were all tired and wind blown but very happy. It was the end of another great weekend in the hills despite the weather. There was definitely a sense of sadness that we couldn’t have been snowed in and have to spend the foreseeable future in the beautiful Glen Coe. Ah well, there’s always next year... Ullapool .....

(By an anonymous member who knows nothing about hill walking, at all)

Ullapool was recently voted the best trip of the year in the very official hillwalking awards, need I say more! Well probably as Pascale has asked me to fill two pages and an artistic collage of all the views it may be a bit of a cop out. In Ullapool and the surrounding area which Wikipedia tells me is called Assynth where there are a lot of land bumps and a few vast expanses of water, that is a very accurate topographical assessment of the area. I can’t actually remember when the trip was but it will say on your card (I have obviously managed to lose mine) so just consult that if you really care. The drive was a blooming trek but I very cleverly shot gunned a place in the front seat of a car so I had a smashing time, in comparison to the people on the minibuses at least. Although I am led to believe that there was a certain amount of dancing on one of the buses and as any experience is infinitely improved by dancing they probably had a smashing time too. So everybody arrived in frightfully good spirits, probably. I didn’t actually do a survey at the time but I am going go ahead a make a sweeping generalisation. Some super hard core people, upon arriving, had to set up tents as they had very kindly offered to camp, two such members were Alex Collins and Anton who, for some reason, couldn’t quite look each other in the eye the next day, me thinks another hillwalking romance may have blossomed! Then the usual hillwalking walk organisation process began in which people who pretend to know stuff about hill walking looked earnestly at maps and had serious discussions about wind speeds trying to create the illusion that they are super informed out-doory types, when really they are just going to choose walks from the Monroe book. I realise that I have just insulted 95% of the people in the club so if you manage to work out which uniformed member wrote this please don’t hit me, I’m just jealous that you know what those little orange lines on the map mean.

Inhumanly early the next day as usual walking commenced, I have absolutely no idea at all what any of the hills are called, probably Ben Mac Tavish or something equally stupid, here I realise that I have no insulted if the Scottish contingent of the club, again please don’t hit me I’m just an ignorant English charlatan, although if I had been in charge of naming your mountains I would have been slightly more

27 imaginative. That said I’m pretty sure I did climb something called the phallics which was rather a good shout on the hilarity naming front. The walk was lovely I think, I can’t actually remember there was a lot of bum sliding I think, which of course made it phenomenal. I would also like to point out at this point that haemorrhaging (I have no idea how to spell that word, it’s what you do to blood?) your student loan in Tiso is not at all necessary, I used the very inexpensive feet gloves, or socks as they are known the lay members of the public, to keep my mitts toasty and they worked a treat, waterproof smauterproof! I also seem to remember that Skirtin and Donald did this crazy ice climb on this day, which sounded rather extreme, that is what actual out- doory types do the rest of you ‘map-ponderous’ take note. Back at the hostel it was great to see that despite there being about 10 minutes of sunshine in the day Gregor had managed to get a good healthy dose of UV rays and was hence somewhat incandescent, he was a beacon of light for the otherwise mundane evening. I jest I jest the evening was a huge amount of fun, we had a wonderful chilli (illustrative of my priorities that I remember exactly the food but not the hills). There were some heated card games including some particularly intense round of shit head, (I would like to take this opportunity to publically slate John Man and Lucy Nuns rules, four magic cards is just too many, gluttony is a sin and destroys the beauty of the game!!) Amid the festivities we all managed to be obnoxious loud and annoy all the other guests of the hostel. One of the beauties of being students is that terrible behaviour is justifiable as we don’t shower regularly, that’s the logic I’ve been applying anyway and I’m definitely not hated by the public at large. There was also a lot less map pondering that night as the next was almost universal faff day!

Faff day was unequivocally faffoulous, I’m sorry that is a really terrible pun but I’ve been stuck in the library all day and that is the highest level of intellect that I’m capable of. So the majority of people climbed Stack-Polly (rather raging that is the only hill name I know and it’s not even a Corbett!) on this walk some rather hard-core people made it to the top which was nothing short of magnificent. The glaciers or whatever carved out such an impressive landscape, for all I know it could have been made by large army of Aardvarks with a predilection for stacking rocks atop each other at interspersed points throughout barren landscapes, but Wikipedia says glaciers so we will go with that, did a rather top notch job of things. (If this long sentence is too confusing for you science students, deal with it!) After gazing wistfully over the prehistoric landscape to allow Mead taking a plethora of picturegraphs we retired to the infamous loch Inver Pie shop. Having received such a constant litany of praise from Ali I expected great things, and fair play it wasn’t quite food nirvana but I would go as far to say that it was the most enjoyment you can have with clothes on. After that we paid a little trip to the beach, where many an extreme thing happened, predominantly three of the most hard core people, ever, went swimming, which makes them really really cool, both literally and metaphorically, and everyone else should hold them in such high esteem for this that those three individuals should never have to buy their own drinks again and feel very honoured if they talk to you. Skirton also climbed this rather tall bolder/cliff thing with no hand hold, there was one point at the top when we all thought that she may have fallen to crush the aghast onlookers, just watching was definably an adrenalin rush without actually having to do any of the hard work, which was ideal. And I have to rather begrudgingly say that she probably did do the most extreme thing of the weekend, but the swimmer were still pretty cool.

To calm our nerves after all of the excitement we decided to do some yoga and meditation, as it was the most serene landscape it allowed up to truly access our inner mind and discover the truth about ourselves. Mead most astonishingly came to the shocking realisation that he is king of nature, so if anyone was wondering it’s been affirmed, you should direct all of your nature related enquiries to him from now on. Back at the hostel we had the least impressive Easter egg hunt, ever, the eggs were so conspicuous it was harder to not see them. I think the Easter bunny may have had a break down and I propose an intervention is the only way to solve this crisis, maybe we should all chip in to send him to rehab? (or maybe he was just too busy gazing wistfully at a certain Australian to do a proper job, the Easter bunny was Alex Collins in case that wasn’t clear!) Apart from the unimpressive egg hunt the evening was again a huge amount of fun, there were inconceivable amounts of cake, which was rather exciting and delicious. By this point Alex and Anton’s romance had come to a bitter end thus fled their shared abode to find separate beds in the hostel and another camper may have had too much gin to face the epic trek thus to the campsite. Thus Anna was left to brave the treacherous Scottish weather alone, she informs me she was very brave and definitely didn’t wet the sleeping bag.

The final day of walking was again a huge amount of fun, I went up a hill, a rather revolutionary decision, and it was absolutely fabulous. There were again amazing views of the Aardvarks hard work. We did have to walk along a rather stormy ridge at one point on which I scared the shit out of Nicole, as I had the misguided belief that I was about to plummet off the mountain after trying to climb a rock in a white out. After a satisfactory amount of hysterical screaming and shitting ourselves we realised I had about a meter to fall and that the whole thing was utterly anticlimactic and ridiculous, there’s nothing like a good old over- reaction to keep you on your toes. We also got to witness Jasmines seaweed dancing; I propose that it is obligatory for her to perform this at the pub every week, it would put a smile on the most disgruntled and exhausted walker. So this is my very inaccurate and just ridiculous account of the weekend. I would like to apologise for sounding like such a verbose fool, I was merely making vain attempt at humour, so if you don’t laugh with me please feel free to laugh at me.

Ullapool EUHWC Trip 2013 by the less anonymous Kirsty Liggat

After a slightly delayed start on Friday afternoon due to a complex suitcase-Tetris challenge in the boots of our vehicles, we set off on the long journey to Ullapool. Thankfully, a stunningly golden evening, along with a fish ‘n’ chip stop in Aviemore and some quality bus banter, made for an enjoyable drive, and on the approach to the little lochside town in the darkness, we were all struck by the glimmering beauty of its lights duplicated on the water. Once at the hostel, and after a weary search for any room which did not smell offensive, we congregated in the communal dining and sitting area to socialise before the walk sign-up. Apprehensive at first that I would find it hard to make conversation with a group of people I had never met, or that I would embarrass myself by admitting how inexperienced a walker I was, I soon realised that the people surrounding me were all very welcoming. It was easy to become as enthusiastic about the new landscape around me as the seasoned club members returning to Ullapool were. I set myself a moderate challenge of three of the Fannichs; a group of Munros to the Southeast. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I prepared for bed, and mentally prepared for the early start the The long walk- in up the valley to the Fannichs next day.

As anticipated, the morning was a bleary scramble for gear and food, and by basically copying what everyone else was bringing, I made it out to the van suitably equipped - just in time. A sleepily muted drive saw us arrive at the site, a reasonable walk from the hills themselves. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, as we admired the hills, Daniel silently chundered his bran flakes into the roadside heather after a woozy carsickness episode. Following this, the walk-in was a good chance to get to know the others in the group before we entered the no-talking-heads-down-puffed-out phase of the hike, and was a pleasant trip up the valley, complete with gawping deer on the hillside and a frozen waterfall. The sun broke out unexpectedly, and by the time we reached the end of the valley to climb the furthest peak first, we were sweating. This being so, we were oddly grateful for the chilling wind and ice crystals which turned on us at the top of the ridge leading up to our first peak; however, the visibility was luckily still clear enough to get good views of the rest of the Fannichs. A Lord-of-

the-Rings-esque, corniced ridge led up to the sharp, dazzlingly bright white peak; a very satisfying spot for an early lunch, with Loch Fannich visible over one edge.

The ascent to the second peak, however, was gruelling and seemingly endless. Better not to look down; better still not to look up. The snow was old and frozen slippery solid, and by the time we made it to the top there was little celebration as we fumbled blindly in our packs for rejuvenating snacks. The weather continued to worsen, with hail showers stinging our faces. The snow was deep and uneven on this hill, so we decided that crampons would be needed for the steep descent (cue inevitable faffing). 15 minutes later, with my crampons on the wrong feet, I nevertheless successfully stomped like a clawed yeti down the sheer slope without slipping to my doom. We were greeted at the bottom by a white-out, and some compass-led deliberation was required to ascertain which of the vague hill-shapes around us actually was our last Fannich. We set off hoping for the best, but thankfully the snowstorm blew itself out during the last ascent, and we were rewarded with the impressive site of a wind-blasted ice plateau at the top, with a frozen lake on one side and the valley on the other. The final descent was a mixture of slow heather- grappling shuffling and continual bum –sliding. Now, I love an “ice-axe-arrest practice” as much as the next young hiker, but after an unfortunate slip resulting in a large handful of snow contacting rather too much of my flesh, I can safely say I remain firmly all-bum-slid-out for this year. The walk out had mysteriously doubled in length from our journey in; however, the thought of Julia’s (and her helpers’) delicious chilli to come for dinner drew our legs one by one back to the van. The evening was laid-back, and we exchanged stories of our walks before the Sunday walk sign-up. I had a tough time deciding, as I fancied an easier trip than the previous one, but also wanted to make the most of the chance to experience some incredible hills. In the end, I joined a small group to climb Cul Beag, a Corbett to the North of Ullapool.

Snow had fallen thickly on the hills overnight – not The ascent to Cul Beag totally unexpected, but not what we had hoped for either. Nevertheless, we focussed on the positives on the drive to Cul Beag on Sunday morning, noting how spectacular the peaks around us looked contoured with white. The air was colder today, and that coupled with the much shorter distance to cover compared with Saturday’s walk had me foolishly prepared for an easier hike. Halfway up the slope, hauling myself painfully upwards by heather stems buried deep under the soft snow and dangerously aware of how easy a slip would be, I changed my mind. My pack had me off-balance, and the strong wind felt more than capable of sending me tumbling down the way I had come. At the point where the first slope levelled off, the wind was even stronger, and ice-flakes grazed my exposed face. This was but a mere warm-up to the second half of the ascent, however. I won’t reiterate the dark thoughts that troubled me as I lagged behind during that terrifying climb (even with John Mann’s invaluable moral support coaxing me on); suffice to say that I, with so little experience of the mountains, did question my sanity, and more than once fought panicked recollections of the avalanche horror-stories from earlier in the year.

QUOTE: “They’re all wearing shorts!”, “They’re all white too!” - Lucy W (as some 30 men got out of their car in Pitlochry

But I didn’t die. Hearing cries from above me, eventually I looked up to see nothing skyward but people-shaped silhouettes, and threw myself at the ground on the hilltop, more grateful for level ground than I had ever been. I stood up carefully in the forceful gale to watch Josh attempt to bite into a fully-frozen roll, before turning to the view of the mountains and distant sea fading in and out of sight through the clouds behind me. We couldn’t stop for long though, as we were chilling quickly, and so we pushed on back downwards – with some slippery-slow progress making me the last, again. Lunch was spent sheltered behind a rock, but by this time the sun was forcing through the cloud cover. While the others investigated the best route down, I stole a chance to investigate the emerging views around us – yet again lost for words at the awesome, swooping lines and glimmering edges of the landscape in which I was, essentially, lost. The last phase of the descent was a steep and squelching affair now that the sun had melted the morning’s snowfall on the south side of the hill, but I was in better spirits. Hitting the road at the bottom, my tired legs and aching ankles couldn’t override the sense of satisfaction and accomplishment which bounced in my step.

After this, the afternoon only got better, with a meandering (and admittedly nauseating) drive to the village of Loch Inver, where the legendary Pie Shop welcomed us with the kind of compassionate understanding for our primal desires which is often so hard to find in the indifference of the big city. Venison, red wine gravy, wrapped in puff pastry, served warm – aw man, there are no words eh. The gorgeous beach near Loch Inver Then, my favourite part of the weekend – a trip to the beach. Having grown up on the East Coast, I was keen to see how the West-Coast beaches compared - and much as I hate to admit it, I was won over. The colour of the sea, a tropical blue, was cut through with the solid grey of dramatic rock faces rising from the sunlit water, and the sand in the little cove was fine and white-gold. Our little group of 5 met up with another, larger group who had spent the day on the imposing crags of Stac Pollaidh. As the sun grew closer to the horizon, we could barely bring ourselves to pack away the Frisbee, and end our totally non-ironic meditation to the rhythmic swell and beat of the gentle waves. As much as the mountains impress me, I will never feel as at home as when I’m by the sea. For me, this really was the perfect end to the day. The drive back by sunset was glorious, and the photo opportunities were almost overwhelming – however, we did finally arrive at the hostel for dinner (for those who could manage it after the pies anyway). While we chatted eagerly about our trips, chocolate eggs appeared around us under the well-meant, but rather dubious pretence of an indoor Easter egg- hunt, coupled with the appearance of some truly superb Easter cakes. Actually, in retrospect, forget the bit about the beach, maybe the cakes were in fact the perfect end to the day.

I was surprised how loathe I was to leave the hostel on Monday morning – 2 and a half days seemed a meagre amount of time to explore all that the area had to offer, and I could have easily spent the same length of time in Ullapool again. That said, my knees felt dangerously close to caving in on themselves, and with the early starts also quickly losing their novelty, my worn-out

31 QUOTE: "I like how no one can see what's going on in this car" - Alison body assured me it was for the best. The day’s walk up the Corbett, Canisp, was a mere stroll in comparison to the previous days’, but it felt good not to lag behind this time. My legs fell so easily into the uphill- pushing motion that the long walks to and from the hill across stony heathland felt very odd. I wondered how I would cope back in Edinburgh without a daily hill-fix - there are only so many times you can climb up and down Arthur’s Seat after all. The top of Cansip was severely windy, and so as to avoid the risk of being blown off the top, we didn’t spend long there. Of course, there was an arduous drive home ahead of us too, so nobody minded getting back to the van without delay. Keeping Euan awake at the wheel for the whole journey was a challenge, but we liked to think that lots of air con and an eclectic range of sing-along Disney and Canadian folk-rock music were definitely a huge help.

After stopping for dinner in Pitlochry, the remainder of the journey was quiet as we either fell asleep, or reflected silently on the weekend. Having left Edinburgh with little experience of the winter hills, the sense of accomplishment even after such a short trip amazed me. I was a lot stronger than I’d thought I was for sure. Though it sounds silly to say “I felt like a new person”, I did feel like my perspective of myself had changed for the better, and that in itself made enduring aching joints and limbs, sweat-soaked baselayers, and sunburnt cheeks undoubtedly worthwhile. Next goal: go on a summer walk – I mean, compared to the mountains in winter, how hard could that be..?

An interesting fact: The highest point in Denmark is 80m lower than Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh.

It is this lack of a third dimension that th st motivates me to return Stromeferry 19 - 21 April to the highlands on a semi-regular basis. Copenhagen is nice, but it is essentially one giant sandbank, with a limited opportunity for views of anything other than Sweden across the water.

So I flew into Edinburgh around midday, packed up my hillwalking gear and headed on over to George Square for the pickup. Stromeferry is a long drive, so we left at a reasonable 3pm with John riding shotgun and Tomaz dozing off in the rear quarter, slightly diminishing the car’s perfectly balanced weight distribution and driving characteristics. En-route we popped into Aviemore for a portion of fish & chips from the kids menu (you don’t really need much more, trust me) and then made our detour to Inverness to pick up a certain Miss Wormald.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, apart from an emergency stop to resolve a rattling ice-axe in the boot (nice one Lucy). Rumour has it that another driver managed to slaughter a cute little badger on her journey. I was actually quite taken-aback by the genuine lack of remorse displayed by Sophie.

32 QUOTE: "Actually, I kind of like it a bit rough" -Ali, referring to QUOTE: “Why is mine so moist & yours so firm?”- Karolina & Charlie A the ferry journey, supposedly.

We arrived at the Stationmaster’s Hostel with plenty of daylight to spare. The proprietor greeted us, showed us around and invited us to share the warmth by the wheelbarrow fire. The location enjoys fine views over Loch Carron, and is well serviced by a train station that connects directly to Inverness. Thus making detours to pick people up from Inverness quite unnecessary.

The hostel itself was rather fancy. Some of the rooms were more B&B-style and the beds were remarkably comfortable. I managed to sneak into the unmarked en suite twin with a view to securing the premises for myself. Unfortunately the badger-killer took up residence when I wasn’t looking, and I had to share. Downstairs we had a dual purpose dining/pool table and a pellet-fed industrial furnace to keep us entertained.

The next day I led a walk up Maol Chean-dearg. It was quite a reasonable plan, a modest Munro with a gentle walk-in and a bothy along the way. The difficulties started at the bealach, where the strong winds that had been forecast came to fruition. Turning north- west with the wind directly across us, we headed up the quartzite scree slope and then clambered over the jagged grey rocks on our hands and knees. It was incredibly gusty and blew us over several times, even taking my hat clean off at one point.

We sat down in a sheltered spot on the leeward side and contemplated our next move. Ahead of us lay a short exposed dash and then a final push up the sandstone boulders to the summit of “bald red head”. I finally managed to persuade Maciej to put down his tripod that he’d slung around his shoulder. It was catching in the wind, and he wasn’t going to be able to use it anyway. We then made the dash, but ultimately decided to retreat once we got the boulders. The gusts were strengthening further and we didn’t fancy turning an ankle when falling between boulders. Our return was by the same route, but by now the skies had cleared and we had some great views of the impressively imposing Corbett (imagine such a thing!) An Ruadh-Stac. We could also see some patches of sunshine east across the valley to Sgorr Ruadh.

That evening we enjoyed Tonje’s “Norwegian soup” and gathered around the furnace to drink beer and play Articulate!™. The game mostly consisted shouting a lot and trying to avoid questions from the “people” category. It would seem that we’re not particularly good at knowing who people are.

Sunday’s weather forecast was for much of the same. The wind discouraged further bagging attempts and most people resigned themselves to a having jolly over at Applecross. The ever-keen Jude and Tizzy had other ideas however. They were determined to stay true to the “Hillwalking Club” ethos and attempt to actually walk up a hill. The previous day’s failure to summit was personally my third such failure in a row, and I too was keen to get to the top of something. It was beginning to get a little bit embarrassing, frankly.

I had to manage Jizzy’s expectations somewhat; the weather was still going to be crap so we needed to do something sensible. So after much persuasion, I managed to convince our hardy group that it was “OK” to do a Corbett - the difference in this case being a mere 25 metres. Beinn a'Chuallaich sits at the eastern end of Loch Rannoch, looking directly over to Schehallion. We were up and down in 3 hours and in that time managed to experience warm sunshine, rain, rainbows, wind-driven hail, sleet and fluffy snow. But we made it, and I was happy to sit at the top of something Denmark can only dream of.

Loch Awe daytrip- The first major injury in the club in six years happened because I wanted to take a photo of a waterfall. In an attempt to catch up with the rest of the group I slipped and fell on my face. The walk was supposed to have been a six Munro special on the east side of Glen Shee. It ended up being a tour of the hospitals in the area. My arm felt a bit weird but it took until Simon took my rucksack off and it started feelig athe uofotale that I ealised that I had uied eeyoe’s day. I uikly foud yself ith a fae full of

parace tamol and bound up in duct tape. The walk back was interesting; a stream to get across and the awful ealisatio that all e’d atually aaged to do as descend from the car park.

“adly, Jeey Clakso ould’t gie e a lift to the hospital despite filming Top Gear in the glen, and thus a ride in the comfort-compromised minibus was required. A helpful nurse at Blairgowrie Cottage Hospital told me there was nothing she could do and told us to proceed to Perth. At Perth Royal Infirmary many drugs were administered, x- rays taken and jokes told. I had a dislocated shoulder. A man got me very dizzy on gas and air and then proceeded to yank my arm around in a very disconcerting manner until I felt some bone slide about and heard a satisfying clunk.

I now have to have physio and a MRI to find a missing huk of oe ut I’ alight. I ould’t eoed it.

By Edward Tissiman

Glen Clova daytrip- (Magical Mystery Daytrip)

Early on a sunny and beautiful Sunday morning eight eager hill walkers showed up in the gear room to find out where our mystery daytrip as headed. Jaes aoued that today’s tip ould e to Gle Cloa. Foty fie minutes after leaving Edinburgh, Jonathon realized that he had left his boots in the gear room. Luckily for him most of today’s walk was on dry paths. My group including Mayar and Driesh and James ascended Tom Buidhe and Tolmount. The highlight of the day was having lunch next the spectacular waterfall in Corrie Fee. The mountain was very popular and on Driesh we met a group with seven dogs. They were all hungry and were very interested in our sandwiches. When my group got back to visitor centre Anton, being Anton, appeared out of nowhere and said: Hi! A iute late the est of Jaes’ goup etued. The day ended with some well-deserved drinks and nachos in the Glen Clova hotel. TONJE MOEN Socials 12/13

Mad Hats you say…? Moustaches I hear you cry…? Whoever thought that’d be a good idea?!! Well however the theme came about for our Start-of-Term Pub Crawl people sure did plunge right in there with appearances from carefully selected military caps, hairy Cossack headpieces and even a conical rice hat – or is that a lampshade? Pub after pub we chatted and drank and laughed and drank and sang and drank until our itchy feet could wait no longer so it was off to BONGO. And it was under the cover of dim lighting and the sound of ‘hip hop’ beats that we learnt new things about one another, had perhaps one drink too many, reflected on the youth of today and even

QUOTE: "Are you dilating then?" me, after lucy informs me of curry being good at inducing pregnancy. 34

QUOTE: "Actually, I'm not a great fan of fisting" - Lucy W

QUOTE: “Lucy is an old man in a young girl’s body, is it the other way round?”- J.C saw the start of what we all hoped could be, dare I say it, some EUHWC gossip! (No names mentioned...)

Our Christmas Ceilidh saw the church hall on Lutton Place packed with excited hillwalkers ready to swing themselves, and more importantly their partners, far and wide in an attempt to cause as much chaos as possible. The Folk Society band kept us on our toes, fully embracing the spirit of the nigh t and didn’t seem too phased by the marauding chains of people climbing all over the place during the Flying Scotsman. May I just add as a side note that all of you who misread the design of the Ceilidh ticket – you are dirty, dirty people!

The first major social of Semester 2 was the Pub Quiz down in the depths of The Tron. A broad spectrum of questions tested our intellect, drawing rounds teased out the hidden artists amongst us and Lucy’s fine PowerPoint skills aptly demonstrated the effects of hypothermia! Questions on committee childhood photos had us puzzled.

The term’s social entertainment continued with a Film Night in the neat little Cinema Room at The Banshee Labyrinth (worth checking out if you ever want to organise your own event with a few mates) followed a few weeks later by the club AGM and Ceilidh. Yet again we proved our mettle – battling the effects of alcohol and spinning simultaneously – no mean feat I can assure you particularly during excessively long Orcadian Strip-the-Willows!

We survived.

And thank goodness we did, for the final social of the year saw us descend upon Tanjore South Indian restaurant where we were treated to some spectacular home cooked food. If one of the starters was a little too hot for some people to handle the main course could be enjoyed twice – once visually and again when you got over how amazing and looked and got stuck in! With stomachs satisfied and Awards presented we thanked our lovely hosts and headed to a couple of bars to reminisce on a great year in the club and discuss plans for future trips and times to come.

We’d like to thank everyone who came along to the Socials this year – we had a great time and hope you did too!

Love Doug and Lucy

Julia Quotes : (Thought these deserved their own mini-feature) ”Ah Guys, I think we’re on the wrong hill”- Julia. “ “Where's the money?"

"None of what I've written in this book makes any sense" When she realised that she had miscounted the money from the freshers' night by £1500 - "bugger" “I hate being a man!”

THE PHOTO COMPETITION; 4275 views on the website are very impressive. These great photos will make brilliant postcards for your friends. Especially this one.... LOOKING GOOD-Ruth Ginty

ON THE HILL- LANDSCAPE- Jasmin Watt

OFF THE HILL-Julia Thomas

LANDSCAPE-Jasmin Watt

EXTREME- Alexander Mead