Jon Sykes

I am just back from a weekend of walking. Ben Alder was our original goal, but time was against us. We left Friday night, so that we would benefit from an early start. DeBusk and I drove up to Dalwhinnie, staying at the Dalwhinnie Inn. A very odd establishment. The food they offer is excellent, but the decor is very strange. Think 1960s lodge, add a glitterball, do no refurbishment for 40 years and that would be our hotel. Everything was old and tatty. Even the towel in our bedroom was stained with black marks. But at 32.00 per head, including superb breakfast, all was fine. Just a shame they wasted the potential for a really superb hotel / lodge.
The next morning we met with Todman, who had been out in Inverness the night before celebrating his birthday. I think he was a little worse for wear, but hid it well. After moving gear between bags and parking at the railway station, we were eventually off walking by 11am. It is a long 10 mile walk-in to Ben Alder, much of it along a  pretty loch lined trails, and crossing a suspension bridge. It took us a little under 4 hours to reach the bothy, and by this time most of the beds were taken. DeBusk and Todman stayed inside with the fire, while I decided now might be a good idea to try out my new one-man tent.
Once my tent was pitched we were  ready for walking, and headed for the hills. It was 4pm already, so that left us 4 hours of guaranteed sunlight, which we soon realised was not enough time to climb Ben Alder. Instead we ventured a closer summit. This one was not so popular, and thus lacking a trail.The heather under foot was much like walking on marshmellow. We eventually reached the top of our hill at 6pm as the clouds suddenly appeared. The view was a little hazy, but you could seee Ben Alder covered in snw to one side, and lochs all around. Having timed it perfectly, we made our descent being continually chased by the advent of rain.
We shared our bothy with a walking club. Lovely generous people, who shared their experience – and the coal they had carried in for the fire.
My night in the Nemo tent was a wash-out. I woke to find my sleeping bag saturated. Condensation had clearly been building, and my down bag was pratically useless when wet. Finally gave up idea of sleep at 7am, and instead soothed my war wounds from day before. My left foot had become one giant blister, which was to make my return walk back more painful than perhaps I would have preferred.

Photos of weekend below:

Jon, Todman, DeBusk