THE CAPITAL TRAIL - A JOURNEY

I first learned of The Capital Trail through the posts of its creator Marcus Stitz on social media. At that time, early this year, TheTrail was in fact still in embryo form and not yet a completed entity. I was immediately taken with the idea of this long distance Bikepacking route based on Scotland's capital and so I started out doing bits and pieces of it in the Pentland Hills and around East Lothian, mainly on my CX bike and was delighted to be exploring some areas and trails that were new to me.

When the Capital trail was completed by Marcus I was faced with, what was for me, the daunting task of learning about GPS technology, not so simple in your sixties, which finally enabled me to transfer the GPX route map onto my newly acquired Garmin device. I would not go as far as saying I had mastered this because I was still experiencing some glitches, more of which later!

Marcus, on learning of my interest, invited me to take part in the inaugural event on 13th - 14th June. I told him that, after reading his description,I was very keen but at 63 I was a bit concerned about whether or not I was being realistic. At this point he kindly offered to keep a place open for me until I had done a bit more of a recce.

The next day I realised that I would be  involved at the POC Scottish Enduro Series at Glenlivet that weekend with my son and so would not be able to ride the inaugural event whatever the outcome of my further route explorations. It was that very clash of interests however, combined with a settled spell of weather, which led to me deciding to just get out of the door and give it a go.

The trail began gently enough as I rolled away from the starting point at The Tide Cafe along the promenade at Portobello 

towards Musselburgh with views out over the Firth of Forth. Then it was down to following the little arrow on my handlebars as I cut to and fro through backstreets and woodland paths to Wallyford. The first steep rutted climb of the day followed what was basically a rutted trench brought about by water flow and illicit motor cycle use however, this section has thankfully now been superseded by a pleasant riverside path along the River Esk and a pleasant loop through the grounds of Carberry Estate.

A fast singletrack descent from the village of Elphinstone leads to the Old Pencaitland Railway path associated with mining in the area (pic) but instead of following the path to its end a turn is taken into the Winton Estate and onto the banks of the Tyne. There are not too many road sections on 'The Trail' but what there are are mainly on quiet roads and lanes, many of the - grass growing in the middle - variety. After a woodland track through the grounds of Saltoun Hall one such section follows, up through the village of West Saltoun and in short course back on to a single track climb through Saltoun Big Wood after which a long fast descent on farm tracks leads by way of traffic free -apart from the odd tractor- lanes to the hamlet of Longyester.

Longyester marks a distinct change in the terrain to be traversed, an antiquated signpost gives the clue, 'Impassable for motors' warns the pointing finger.

 I've realised that if I continue to give a blow by blow account this article will a) Become a bit boring and b) I might not live long enough to finish it! - So, suffice to say that the departure from Longyester heralds the first of many up and downy bumpy bits over hillside and open moor with a couple of burn fordings thrown in for good measure. I was lucky in that I was able to choose a fairly settled spell of weather for my attempt unlike participants on the inaugural ride who will just have to take what the weather Gods provide - Let Us Pray! - The hills in the Border country, while being nowhere near as high as those in the Highlands are, nonetheless, very exposed in places.

Skirting the town of Lauder, giving the opportunity to refuel, hill tracks lead on towards Melrose and the banks of the River Tweed and so it goes rolling on, taking in parts of The Borders Abbey Way St Cuthberts Way and of course, a feature of much of the route, The Southern Upland Way.

The first Hikeabike section I encountered was a steep forest track after the Trail passes near the town of Selkirk and as darkness was beginning to fall I chose to bivi there on a very comfy bed of pine needles. That said, as most of the Capital Trail participants will probably be half my age and, having the additional benefit of the extra daylight available to them in June, most will choose to press on to the high moors past the Three Brethern leading by The Southern Upland Way and the Minch Moor road to the first of the two 7 Stanes Mountain Bike loops to be encountered, this one above the town of Innerleithen. The more suitably sited, at least in terms of The Trail event, Minch Moor Bothy is to be found on the descent off these trails towards Traquair and I'm sure this will prove to be an overnighting target for many as the next section, the ascent up to Dun Rig and onwards to Peebles, involves rather more in the way of routefinding/hiking, is very exposed and would not be the most pleasant of prospects in the dark.

The second Trail Centre Loop is taken at Glentress on the outskirts of Peebles and at this stage I still had a fond notion of completing the whole route without a second bivi. However some steep climbing and an incident involving a  Carradice saddlebag (Now replaced with Apidura) a favourite Gillet and the drive side of a Hope Hub put paid to that and found me once again bedding down for the night in the lee of a stone wall on the Old Drove Road through the Meldons. I was in the open this time and although comfortable on a bed of moss rather than pine needles, even the canopy of stars did not quite make up for the drop in temperature from my previous abode. 

Onwards now by way of mostly grassy tracks with the odd bit of hiking towards West Linton. There is a remoteness to these hills that surprises given their proximity to Edinburgh and the only person I encountered was a shepherd on foot with his dogs.

A welcome coffee and Bacon rolls, taken Al fresco on the pavement outside the Deli in West Linton, revived me before the final push through and then over The Pentland Hills and on towards the finish.

Descending to the col below West Kip, it was  a welcome sight to get a glimpse of Edinburgh in the distance and finally feel able to be pretty sure I was going to complete this wonderful and challenging journey. All that remained was the gently downward trending Water of Leith and the Union Canal , a trip through the city, including a final climb round Arthur's Seat and the last singletrack descent of the Brunstane Path to take me back to my starting point at The Tide cafe.

There is much variation in the territory traversed on this memorable journey, from railway paths and canal banks, through woodland singletrack, quiet lanes and historic drove roads to the wildest of heathery hike a bike hills. In its span of 150 miles or so, for those of you dealing in old money, you will ford streams, pass or visit bothies or perhaps bivi under the stars on wooded hillsides. It is without doubt a challenging ride, where head will be just as important as legs, and one not to be undertaken lightly - I packed my Bus Pass just in case :-) - Enjoy.

-->

ALL IN THE GAME

                                                                  

It was the stocky fame and the cheeky smile that registered first as he jogged past me in running gear. He was bursting with fitness after eight years with plenty of time for gym work.

The last time I had seen Alex Reilly was on July 12th, 1988 as he was being led out of the High Court in Edinburgh to start a 12 year sentence for armed robbery at a branch of the Bank of Scotland on the west side of the city. I got the same cheeky smile that day, accompanied by a resigned shrug of the shoulders. '' That's the game," he said as he passed me in the corridor. His co-accused, going down for 10years, was less sociable in his comments but then he was not the 'professional' that Alex was.

 It may seem strange to a public and a media obsessed by the 'scourge of crime' but that's how I saw it; as a game. At the end of the day I have a grudging respect for him as I know he does for me, both 'professionals' in our own fields.

     

 In 16 years of criminal investigation work, Alex was one of the few, 'professionals' I came across. He got caught, I hear you say, - Couldn't have been that much of a professional, - but you miss my point; Alex was not simply a criminal - he was a Bank Robber. Now I appreciate that for most that will be a very hard distinction to make, not only for Joe Public but for the vast majority of my former colleagues as well. It is however a distinction which Alex himself acknowledges and which will be acknowledged by many CID officers of the 'old school' who have experienced the 'high' of successfully pitting their wits and their cunning against an adversary like Alex. This 'high' is a personal thing and has little to do with the noble pursuit of upholding the law of the land. This is the preserve of the hunter and the hunted. 

Alex says his 'highs' came from the planning, the scheming, the adrenaline rush of masking up, going in and leaping onto the bank counter, controlling gun in hand. Then the sprint to the get away car and the final 'YES' as, hours later, he walked home just like any other night, having lived out on the edge. The fact that he was several thousand ponds to the good was, for Alex, a nice bonus but as nothing compared to these hours of sharpened senses, minutes of heightened experience -  the 'Rush'. For Alex, these were the principal motivations. 

  

As to whether or not Alex would have shot anyone who thwarted him that day, I cannot say; nor can I say whether or not the guns were loaded. These are hard questions on which only Alex himself can comment and which to date remain unresolved.

  

What, then were my 'highs'? - Hitting the right track weeks after the enquiry had been virtually closed down, getting a sniff of who might be responsible. Matching information with hard facts. Recovering a cache of guns in another city which I connected to Alex. And eventually arresting him in his own livingroom as he returned from a shopping trip wearing a distinctive jacket very similar to that described by witnesses as having been worn by one of the robbers. And of course my final 'Rush',my final 'YES' when the foreman of the jury said, 'Guilty'.

  

I reminded Alex of the jacket when I met him recently. He laughed, denying that he would be so silly, but then he would, wouldn't he?

  

It might seem strange that Alex and I can communicate on relatively friendly terms given that I could be seen as responsible for depriving him of 8 years of his life, but he says that he doesn't see it that way. He lays the blame fairly and squarely on bad associations involving him in an enterprise which, for one reason and another, used "ordinary criminals" in what was a professional venture. Knowing the ins and outs of the enquiry that led to his arrest, I would have to agree.

  

Without wishing in any way to glamourise Alex's crime, I see him as a modern day Jesse James, a man who would no more think of breaking into a house or robbing an old lady than would you or I. He tells me that the banks can afford it and who can argue with that.

Before being jailed for the robbery Alex had a responsible job in community work and since his release he has returned to similar work on a voluntary basis. If you were to ask me if he will ever do another bank, I would have to say that I don't know. In his forties now he says that he can't see himself doing another sentence, which he knows would undoubtedly be a long one "If you're going to play the game you've got to know the rules" he says.

Alex has done his time and whether or not he can come off this particular drug remains to be seen.   The last time I met him he was standing on a street corner opposite a bank on the south side of the city. "Only waiting on the wife" he assured me, the cheeky grin still evident - I wonder?

                                                                           *   *   *

(This piece was written nearly twenty years ago and my sentiments remain the same. I can't say for certain that Alex managed to kick the habit only that if he didn't he's never been caught!)

Heart Problems - It's not only for Couch Potatoes

I have always been fit whether through running, cycling, mountaineering, skiing, kayaking whatever and for years I was under the impression that my life style made me immune from any possibility of heart problems. After all I was regularly Mountainbiking at a high level and holding my own with youngsters half my age. 

Our usual testing ground, Innerleithen a well known centre in the Scottish Borders, begins with an unrelenting hour long climb, for many a lot longer, to high on the Minch Moor before the downhill fun starts. This climb is unavoidable and for years I had relished it because my light build and cardiovascular system were suited to that kind of effort. However, for some months I had been enjoying it less and less, often trying to get a head start on the climb so I could take things easier. At 59 years of age the obvious answer was I was getting older and, disappointing as it was, I should expect this drop off in performance

On 3rd April this year I started up the climb having managed to sneak away while the rest of the
group were still in the carpark and pretty soon I felt things even harder than was becoming usual, so much so that I stopped and sat down at the side of the track. My hands and forearms had started to feel a bit numb and my breathing had become laboured but by the time the others caught up I was recovered enough to continue. I did note how surprised they were to see that I had stopped to sit down. I was soon forced to have another stop which I attempted to disguise as a requirement to remove a rain jacket as I was too warm but by this time my pals were beginning to suggest that I call it a day.

To cut along story short I stubbornly persisted in going to the top and continued for another 2 hours doing the normal descents. However in response to the concerns of the rest of the group, I agreed to visit my Doctor the following day.

I made an appointment and was delighted to be seen by someone who has been involved in hill running for many years and who might be more open to the idea of someone of my age performing at these levels. I was expecting to be told that I might have to get used to reduced performance as I aged and was surprised when the Dr told me she could detect a heart murmmer. This resulted in a same day admission to the Chest Pain Clinic at the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary quickly followed by the news that I was suffering from Aortic Stenosis and would require Open Heart Surgery to replace the much narrowed valve. I was also informed I may well require a bypass graft.

Stunned I think is the only way to describe how I felt and then sorry for myself and then angry, a whole gamut of emotions as I begun the journey of coming to terms with my new reality.

Mountainbiking - The West Highland Way In a Day

I cycled the West Highland Way with my teenage son James many years ago - He now runs Scotland's main MTB suspension servicing company www.flotecsuspension in Edinburgh, so it's more years than I care to think about. On that occasion we did it over three days and had a great time.

More recently I read of a completion of The Way In a Day by mark.scottishclimbs.com I guess that's when the idea lodged in my brain.

So up to the present day, or nearly. On a week-day in mid September this year I took the last train from Edinburgh to Fort William arriving at 11.00pm. I had pre-booked into the Wild Goose Hostel in Banavie two miles outside the town although I knew I wouldn't get much sleep as a 4.00am start was planned.

4.30am saw me climbing up the first singletrack of the day onto the fire road towards Kinlochleven then single track and droveroad before a great technical descent into the village.

The track then rises steeply out of Kinlochleven and there was a fair bit of 'hike a bike' before the top of The Devil's Staircase followed by another great technical descent down to the Glencoe Road. I had breakfast at The Kingshouse Hotel at 10.00am before heading over The Wade Road to Bridge of Orchy. This involved a fair bit of climbing/walking but was rewarded again by a sweet long descent to the hotel after which a straightforward gently undulating trail led to the tourist honeypot that is now Tyndrum - Green Welly Shop and all! It was now 12.30pm and, 8hrs in, I was surprised at how fresh I felt.

A nice bit of single track, then across the main road and Drove Road through Strath Fillan led to recrossing the road and this is where the surprise came for me, a surprise that cost me a lot of energy! Travelling by road from Tyndrum to Crianlarich is, in the main level and downhill however what I hadn't realised, and what memory had obviously erased, was that the WHW cut a corner here with a sucession of steep hard climbs which took a toll on my legs. I had had it in mind to take a ferry over Loch Lomond thus bypasssing the notorious section between Bienglass and Inversnaid but as it was now 2.00pm, I realised I wasn't going to make the last ferry. Oh well, how bad can it be? Answer - bad.

Anyway a really nice descent saw the miles to Bienglass pass relatively pleasantly as the track ran alongside the River Falloch and on arriving at the farm at 4.00pm I decided on a sit down refuel. I had largely been using gels and energy drink and the lure of some solid food was too great to resist.

What can I say about the next 7miles - well firstly, they took me the best part of three hours the majority of which involved pushing,lifting,pulling and carrying a 30lb mountainbike. I recall a couple of sections where I was climbing a crag with one hand on a rock hold and the other either hoisting the bike up in front of me or pulling it up behind me! Enough said, although I do think given the topography of this section things might be marginally easier in the usual direction south to north.

Still feeling reasonble I arrived at Inversnaid at 8.00pm and as the daylight was beginning to fade, I set off for Rowardennan.To cut the story short, the Loch section had taken it's toll and by the time I reached Balmaha it was dark, my batteries had run out - no not my lamp batteries - (Think Duracell Bunny!) and with 19 miles still to go, including Conic Hill, I decided to call it a day.

Too late to find accommodation, I bedded down on a pile of sand on a building site wrapped in polythene - slept like a baby and finished into Glasgow the next day.

My initial reaction was Never Again but after a few days, the Unfinished Business feeling kicked in so back for another Way In a Day attempt in June 20012 - same year as I collect my Bus Pass!

Info: Lapierre Zesty 714 - Tubeless Tyres- I rode Spd's but will use Flats next time because of the walking/scrambling involved - Plenty of gels and energy bars - took energy drink powder and filled up from crystal clear streams. I had thought of using my Stumpjumper hardtail which would have been an advantage on the carrying sections but in retrospect I'm glad I didnt because I think the general body battering of a hardtail would have made things less enjoyable and might well have stopped me earlier.

PS. Unfortunately I won't be making the second attempt in June as I will be undergoing heart surgery to replace a valve and graft a bypass - I knew these hills at Crialarich shouldn't have felt as hard as that! - Next Year.

STIRLING METAL DETECTOR FIND - AM I BEING TOO CYNICAL?

I worked for many years as a Detective with Lothian and Borders Police and it is perhaps that background that has caused a certain degree of cynicism to remain in the system, but surely I can't be the only one to have doubts about the recent treasure trove found in a field near Stirling. The circumstances are as follows M'laud:-

' Guy buys metal detector on e-bay. It arrives in the post, he unwraps it and doubtless, after the usual struggle with the instructions, he gets it to look something like the picture on the box. Then, after a few preliminary tests in the backgarden, successfully locating bits of the family cutlery,he gets in his car, drives to a random field near his house and, after 5mins and within a few yards of his parked car, he comes across a priceless hoard of jewellery of some 2,500 years vintage which stands to make him a man of independent means for the rest of his natural life.'

Now ladies and gentlemen of the Jury I ask you 'How F-----g likely is this? What are the odds?

So where did it come from? I'm afraid I can't answer that one and it is, I would submit, beyond my present remit to attempt to do so, however what I can say is, if one were to apply the degree of proof required in civil actions to this amazing set of circumstances, 'On The Balance Of Probabilities' then I would have to ask you to return a verdict of Guilty As Charged.'

cjo.

At Night OnThe Trails

Now that the 'nights are drawing in' as King Henry said before the Battle of Agincourt, I find myself a bit limited as to when I can get out running so, last night, for the first time I experimented with running in the dark on the forest trails above where I work at Castle Craig.

I must say, it took a bit of getting used to with your world effectively narrowed down to a pool of light about three feet in front of you. However after about 20mins or so I got quite comfortable with it and was out for about an hour and a half. This was roughly 10-15mins longer than I would take in the day time due to the fact that one has to be a bit more careful about even the smallest obstacles - sticks, potholes etc.

I was using a Petzl Tika headtorch that I use for climbing and would have to say that it felt like the minimum output possible for safety. I am awaiting delivery of a more powerful rechargeable LED system for mountainbiking and I'm sure this will make things a lot easier and more enjoyable.

One outing and I am hooked and I must say I'm really looking forward to some clear, frosty and starry nights on the trails.
cjo.

Piker's Progress

I caught my first - and only till now - pike in a pond on a relative's croft near Dalmally in Argyll some 40 years ago and it's something I've never forgotten. I think I recall the visual impact more than anything, the sleek lines of this torpedo -like predator impressed me greatly and when this was linked with the mythical tales of the gigantic proportions of such fish and stories of ducks, lambs and the odd unsuspecting dog being taken, it probably explains the indelible memory.

I have fished occasionally over the years for mackerel, no more than a passing interest really but have always retained the thought that fishing, especially for pike might be something I could do when I was too old and decrepit for anything else. So, facing a three month recovery from a back injury, I decided to take the opportunity.

My first outing was at Edgelaw reservoir near Temple in Midlothian and although I didn't catch anything - I put that down to the fact that I was fishing with lures while everybody else was using dead-bait - I did see an 18lb monster being caught and now I'm really hooked.

I caught my first pike for 40years last night in the Swan Pond near Cowdenbeath, a nice little venue but please note, it comes with a high chav count. Size? well I think it was over 6inches but size didn't really matter - it was the first (well second really) and things can only get better!

Two Good Early Season Days In The Cairngorms

One advantage of being old(ish) is that you can pick and choose when to do outdoor stuff. It's not everybody that can look at the forecast and decide to go when its good. More often than not (and I remember it well) your time away was dictated by work commitments and you just had to take what was on offer.

I saw the forecast for a fairly settled High this week and had two great days in the 'Gorms. Tuesday skiing, which although very limited in terms of runs available, offered excellent conditions. I'm a recent convert from the old style long straight planks to the new shorter 'Carvers' and I really got the hang of it this trip, kicking it up off piste coming down the 'Cas.' I am beginning to kid myself that I am getting quite good at it! More snow needed then onto the really steep stuff - then we'll find out!

Wednesday started badly. I had stayed overnight at the Scottish Mountaineering Club's Raeburn Hut at Laggan and drove up the A9 in the morning. I was just entering Aviemore and was debating whether to have coffee and a bacon roll before going up to the car park when, too late, I saw the cops! - 41mph in a 30 = 60 quid! - expensive roll!

It took me the first hour walking into Coire Lochain to reach a state of calm acceptance (honest). I climbed up a steep open snow slope at the side of the Fiacaill Ridge, topping out in beautiful sunshine, and what's even more unusual, absolutely flat calm. I then decended into Coire an t -Sneachda by a very steep and icy 'Goat Track' before a quick ascent of the gully line of 'TheRunnel' on iron hard neve. It was in quite lean condition and there were two or three steep steps in it that would normally be banked out, so it made it an exciting 'solo'!

The Boys Done Well - Review of 'The Boys Of Everest' by Clint Willis

We read "'to leave behind the tether of a single mind ...and deviate into the minds and bodies of others."
Virginia Woolf.


This book, by American author Clint Willis, carries the sub-title 'Chris Bonnington and the Tragic Story of Climbing's Greatest Generation' and for me, the book tells that story in a wonderfully compelling fashion. I think Willis' sucess with this book is in large part due to the fact that it does exactly what it says on the tin - tells a Story - rather than simply cataloguing the well documented events of this momentous era in British/World climbing.

The characters are well known, Whillans; Brown; Scott; Haston; Boysen; Boardman; Tasker et al the 'Tragic' part of the sub- title being, of course, that the majority of them died young in pursuit of their goals.

Willis has done his own extensive research and this is not simply a rehash of what has gone before. Obviously much is owed to the various 'expedition' books Annapurna South Face, Everest the Hard Way etc. but what makes the difference is that Willis goes beyond this into interviews with families and friends, extensive use of Journals , letters and other hitherto unpublished sources.

What could arguably have proven the most contentious parts of the book have, in my opinion, proven to be its greatest strength, that of moving into the realms of 'story'. I would hesitate to call this fiction because, although fulfilling all the rquirements of that genre, the passages I refer to go further than that description alone would suggest. The passages concerned are narrated by an omniscient presence travelling with some of these climbers shortly before their deaths and deal with emotions and feelings that only the climber himself could have known about. So yes, in one sense they are fiction, they are 'made up' but I would argue that it is in these passages that Willis sets himself apart from other more prosaic authors and thus ensures both a wide readership and a lasting place in the literature of climbing.

As editor of a climbing Journal, I receive many review books, rarely do I read them cover to cover first day - this is one such book.

cjo. Edinburgh 17.12.06

Speaking for my supper - Mar Lodge, Braemar

I had the good fortune to spend a recent weekend at Mar Lodge near Braemar, as the guest of the Edinburgh section of the JMCS (Junior Mountaineering Club of Scotland). This was a 'freebie' for me as I had agreed to 'sing for my supper' as the guest speaker at their annual dinner. Mar Lodge is a Victorian Hunting Lodge which sufferred a major fire some years ago and has since been refurbished by the National Trust. It is a real step back in time and unlike some of these old buildings which are a bit worn around the edges shall we say, Mar Lodge is in pristine condition.
The main building is divided up into self contained appartments so it is possible to stay there for the weekend at a very reasonable price and have the run of the whole place. - Monarch of The Glen anybody!

Trail Running

The weather here has been absolutely crap for about the last week with really strong winds and torrential rain. I was looking for a reasonably sheltered place to run today and came across Ladybank woods just off the main Dundee Road near the village of Ladybank in Fife. There is a huge area of sheltered trails criss- crossing through this mixed forest area and the sandy sub soil means that even after days of rain the trails are still pretty firm. Well worth a visit.

Mountain Bike Tour de Mont Blanc

I have just completed a 5 Day Journey by Mountain Bike around the base of the Mont Blanc Massif. The ride covers 180km, mostly off road and takes in 7000m of climbing over 6 mountain passes. The route starts in Chamonix in France, proceeds over the Col du Balme(2191m) into Switzerland, then into Italy by way of the Grand Col du Ferret(2537m) finally returning into France by way of the Col de la Seigne(2516m). These are the bare statistics - here is the tale.
We organised this trip through the company MBMB in Chamonix and were picked up at Geneva airport and ferried to our chalet in Les Bossons just outside the town. The first inklings that there may be some organaisational glitches along the way came when there was a prolonged argument between our Guide Nick, who met us at the chalet, and the Spanish driver as to who was going to pay for the taxi from Geneva. I immediately put on my 'bugger all to do with me look' and started to load my gear into the chalet. The dispute was eventually settled when Manuel grudgingly accepted Nick's exhortations that 'Phil will pay.' Phil being, as we later learned, the boss of the company, who didn't exactly endear himself to me at the first night briefing by referring to us as 'Scotties.'

10.00am the following morning saw as gathered in the courtyard of the chalet ready for the off, At which point Phil, hereinafter referred to as Boycie - bearing un uncanny likeness we thought to the 'Fools and Horses' character, with his wideboy London accent and braying laugh - appeared and asked who was going to join his 'elite' group (there were two groups of 11) All the
'Scotties' managed to resist this siren call without too much difficulty and each succeeding day only served to confirm us in what proved to be a very fortuitous choice. But more of that later. A gentle road ride of two miles or so brought us into the main street in Chamonix were some of the group stocked up on spare tubes and more than a few energy gels. The first off road riding trended up through the woods by the river Arve to Argentiere and as we entered the village we passed a number of very spaced out (not just distancewise) competitors in the Mont Blanc Ultra endurance race which basically followed our route but in the opposite direction. We later found out that the winner completed the course in about 21hours but the guys we saw on their last legs were on the the last leg to Chamonix and would narrowly avoid the 48hr. cut off point.
We continued uphill to the village of La Tour, the scene of a devastaing avalanche some years back which all but wiped out the village. Here we took the only cable car of the trip up to the Col du Balme which at 2191m forms the border with Switzerland. Lunch was taken here before some great twisting single track across the col where we encountered the one and only snow field crossing of the trip. Once we reached the tree line on the Swiss side we had to negotiatentered some very muddy, rooty and steep single track which, after the torrential rain of the preceding days, had been churned up well and proper by the passage of the hundreds of endurance race competitors. One of our number came to grief on this descent sustaining quite nasty facial injuries which necessitated hospital treatment and sadly, he took no further part in the proceedings.
This technical descent took us onto a fire road and then on to tarmac and after a couple of miles of steep climbing, a mixture of trail and road, we reached the Col du Forclaz and our hotel. I ommitted to explain that the deal with MBMB included our luggage being ferried between each overnight stop. It is possible to do this tour unsupported and we did see a couple of people doing just that. However, my friend George has a saying that he applies in situations like this involving the words 'nuts' and 'mangle' and in this particular case I would have to agree with him. The Freedom of being able to ride unencumbered by a hefty rucksack was well worth the extra cost.Incidentally, 'mangle' is a word some of we older Scotties use to describe an early edition of the clothes wringer with rollers used to extract excess water from newly washed clothes -just so you can get the picture! From now on it was nine o'clock starts and when we went off road the next morning onto grassy single track there was still a heavy dew about and when I locked up on a steep section the tumble that followed was inevitable. No damage done, we continued down windy track to the main road leading to the Grand St. Bernard Pass. After a mile or so we turned uphill and there followed a steep road climb to the village of Chapex where we stopped for lunch. This was the regular pattern to the day and despite taking on board huge amounts of pasta over the week I registered a net weight loss at the end of the trip, it was simply burned off as necessary fuel. Calories in / Calories out is the simple equation here and no matter what winky- wanky diet is followed by people trying to lose weight it is this universal truth that lies behind it. I digress, enough of that particular hobbyhorse. I took the climbing prize by a fair margin - competitive, who me? I'm a roadie at heart and I had the polka dot Tour de France climbers jersey in my bag but I was making sure of my position before I put it on the following day - sad really isn't it (rhetorical)

To be continued

GEORGE AND ME

When my drinking career was at its height in the early eighties George Best was seeing out what remained of his playing career or indeed often not playing career for Hibs at Easter Road. I was even misguided or deluded enough then to take some comfort from the fact that somebody of his stature was having the same troubles as I was, as if that would somehow excuse the heartbreak and damage that drinking was causing for me and those around me.

Why is it then that 20 odd years down the line drink no longer plays a part in my life, a fact with which I am very comfortable, and George, after spending these same years engaged in what the tabloid press are given to present as the ‘battle against booze,’ is dead?

Drink played a hugely important part in both our lives so much so that it warped how we saw the world – drink becoming the main focus, the arbiter of everything we did and just as often didn’t do. The fact that he was a superstar gloriously entertaining those who were lucky enough to see him play and I was an ordinary working guy stood for nothing. We both suffered from blackouts, from illness, missed work, crashed cars, endangered and destroyed relationships – the full Monty really. We were both brought to our knees by a compulsion to drink alcohol. Ok he performed both on and off the field in the full glare of publicity and some would argue that it was this pressure that made him drink but I have the feeling that George Best would have had the same problems had he been a shipyard worker in Belfast like his dad instead of one of the most dazzling football players the world has ever seen.

I think there are two areas that George failed to get his head round in relation to his drinking. Firstly he bought into this whole fight/battle idea. Fighting at times not to drink but probably just as often, if not more so, to prove that he could. Secondly, and as a consequence of that mindset, he could not achieve the depth of change, change which it might not be too fanciful to refer to as being at the level of the soul, which would enable him to envisage even the possibility of a life without alcohol.

Now there are as many and varied theories surrounding alcohol abuse as there are ‘treatments’and I know that we were both exposed to many of them ranging from Alcoholics Anonymous to drug therapies, various forms of counselling, you name it, it was tried. So again, why did I get it and he didn’t? I can’t say I had a ‘Road to Damascus’ experience and indeed, like George I tried to stop drinking many times and failed, I tried to control my drinking many times and failed, but somewhere along the line these organisations I was touching and people I was talking to were rubbing off on me and, even at a subconscious level, were starting to lay the foundations of a platform for change.

Looking back, if I were to try and define a turning point I would have to say that when I came to realise that this ‘fight’ this ‘battle’ that everybody was talking about was, at least for me, one best not entered into, things started to get better.I didn’t need to look any further than my own experience to realise that this particular fighter had climbed into the ring to contest this same ‘mismatch’ once too often and had suffered some fearful beatings in so doing. So why should I expect the result to be any different this time? I simply threw in the towel – I didn’t win the fight against alcohol, I gave up the fight.

A fighter to the last, this was one area of his life where perhaps the competitive streak, the fighter in him, worked against George. We’ve all got our race to run and he should be remembered for his short lived brilliance which, like a comet, lit up the sporting world. And well, at least he should be better placed to sort out that other business next time round.

Charlie Orr
Edin Nov 2005

'An enemy in their mouths' - a perspective on Scotland's Alcohol Problem.

On Tuesday night Professor Peter Brunt gave a lecture under the auspices of the Royal College Of Physicians of Edinburgh entitled “An enemy in their mouths” – a perspective on Scotland’s alcohol problem. That it was a very well presented lecture is no more than you would expect from someone with Professor before his name and CVO, OBE after it and we were treated to an erudite potted history of the use of alcohol from the time of the Egyptian pharaohs to the present. His eloquent prose was more than adequately supported by a liberal sprinkling of power point illustrations of paintings by Bruegel, Manet, et al and any number of Shakespearian quotes of which his title is one – but of course you knew that, this is The Scotsman after all. But there it ended I’m afraid. The graphs, many relating to the eighties, were produced to show an upward trend in both consumption, alcohol related illness and mortality and the conclusions were drawn that drink is too cheap, too readily available and too heavily advertised. Nothing new there then, and certainly little in the way of seeing a way ahead. Given that Professor Brunt was billed as ‘-- one of Scotland’s leading alcohol experts,’ one could have reasonably expected more emphasis on substance, if necessary at the expense of a few paintings and maybe a couple of sculptures here and there.

Blog Spamming

This morning I was amazed at the upsurge of comments to articles on this site, that is until I read them - 'Amazing new business opportunity' 'Need A Loan' We've got used to this in our mail boxes (both real and virtual) and now they're invading the blogosphere. Why don't you all just Fuck Off!

Definition Of The Week

Oxymoron:- A Vettriano Original

Not Quite Painting By Numbers

When is plagiarism not plagiarism? When you're Jack Vetttriano it seems. It was revealed today in The Scotsman that the top Scottish 'artist' copied some of his famous paintings directly from a 'How to do it' painting manual. We're not talking style or nuance here we're talking copying that is so blatant he probably used tracing paper! If this was in the literary domain he would be black balled with no court of appeal, but we're in the 'art world' here and the fact that these 'colouring in' masterpieces have sold for upwards of 700,000 pounds probably says as much about the denizens of that airy-fairy world as it does about Vettrianno himself. Then there's his agent," Vettriano's skill lies in his ability to create narrative paintings with which the viwer becomes involved.He is a master of generating atmosphere in his paintings---------" blah de blah de blah.What a load of crap. If he were a genuine wide boy who had fooled those poncy 'collectors' with too much disposable income then I would be the first to applaud him but I'm afraid that's not the case. He is a man who got lucky and came to believe his own publicity. I always thought his work was like the product of some sort of sausage machine where the handle was turned and out popped another of the same but I thought that at least he was using his own recipe!

SCOTS POLICE RECORD A 70% INCREASE IN RACE-RELATED CRIMES

This is the unfortunate headline accompanying an article in today's 'Scotsman' which,if taken at face value, clearly indicates that a Powellian 'Rivers of Blood' scenario is just round the corner. And where,in the case of the Northern Constabulary area, with a 364% rise in racist incidents in the past five years! a gathering of The Klan seems more likely than a Gathering of the Clans.

It doesn't take a genius to work out that this has everything to do with a change in the methods used to record 'racist incidents' and indeed, a change in the very definition of such an incident, and very little to do with any real change in community relations in the areas cited. That a newspaper who, in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary, continues to refer to itself as Scotland's Quality Broadsheet, chooses not mention this is regrettable and can only add to readers anxieties concerning the much vaunted 'Fear Of Crime' which is, in this case, as in many others, perceived rather than real.

Book Review - The Blue Road

The Blue Road :-

Travelling I consider as an extremely useful exercise.

It sets the mind in movement.

Montaigne.

To position this work among what we’ve come to categorise as ‘Travel Literature’ would, I’m sure, lead the author to a Prufrockian ‘ That is not it at all/That is not what I meant at all.’ Yes it gives an account of a journey from Montreal to the Ultima Thule of Labrador, yes it describes and comments on the physical landscape and the people encountered. But there is more, much more. What the author is attempting to do, I feel, is get to the very essence of this space, move out beyond the signs, the labels, the preconceptions and to convey to the reader his experiencing of the way-out- there of this journey, through the landscape/mindscape of himself and its inhabitants.

It is fairly well known that Kenneth White writes in three genres – essays, poetry and the ‘Way Book’ of which The Blue Road is arguably his finest example. White himself says that these books are hard to categorise, being neither fiction nor poetry, which is not surprising given that his whole ethos is an attempt to live, think, experience and be ‘outside the box’ – whatever or wherever that box might be.

White is never content with description alone, although he’s not short on that facility. What he seeks,I feel is an immediacy with the landscape which he achieves in two ways. Firstly, a widening of perception, getting in, inside and underneath description,

---the whole of the North is still a cold enigma to most Canadians,

While to the Amerindian it’s full of live realities --- something like

Poetic space to the normalized mind.

Secondly he is constantly engaging with the people on the land, the people who feel the land, who have genetic memory of that land, again not in a descriptive, superficial way but directly and empathically. Most of us, I'm sure, being engaged in conversation by two drunks on a train, would be content with platitudes of the ‘nice meeting you,’ ‘must get on type’? White’s approach is genuine interest in these two Indian boys resulting in an invite to a wedding and access to a depth of information simply not otherwise available.

Another such encounter with a woman selling beaver pelts in a small shop leads to a visit to her uncle, a modern day Amerindian Shaman who introduces the author to the mysteries of the drum in Amerindian culture.

When he’s in the woods,he says, he beats on the drum to call the caribou.

And as he tells me about it, his phrasing seems to become more rhythmical,like this:

When you go up into the woods

when you’re up there in the woods

you consult the drum

you use it like a TV set

you see what you’re going to kill

when you hunt with the drum--------

Poetic space.

White’s field is boundless, open and inviting to anyone prepared to take the risk and travel there. Like me you may find some stony ground, some difficult places, but the bright clear-cut diamonds are plentiful.

All afternoon I sit there,listening.

With evening falling,I murmur this into the wind

I’m living today

but I won’t always be living

red sun, you’ll remain

dark earth,you’ll remain.

Charlie Orr

Edinburgh April 05