Talking about the North Sea

Last year we ventured onto the Celtic Sea, the Irish Sea, and the waters west of Ireland looking for traces of the ice sheet that had once covered these lands. That should sort out our knowledge on the western edge of the former British-Irish Ice Sheet. But it had an eastern end, too! This year we'll go and sample the North Sea. This is the difficult bit; from the moraines and drumlins and other (sub-aqueous) landforms you can pretty much straight away how the ice moved on the western side, and all you have to do is date the movements; in the east you have to figure out what happened first before you can go and date anything. We had a lot to learn. And an outstanding opportunity presented itself. The Quaternary Research Association had chosen the North Sea as the theme for its annual discussion meeting. So while still struggling with the last spate of marking of the first term I registered. I wouldn't present anything; we had nothing to say on the North Sea yet. But I'd soak up all that North Sea knowledge!

The venue, which one reached along a path that represented geological time and the Scottish rocks associated with it

The meeting would be in a venue called "our dynamic Earth"; some millennium-related place of popularisation of general Earth science. I hadn't been there before, but I was pleased to see it was right at the edge of Holyrood park. I had been there before, some three years earlier, going for a walk. This time I would try to use it for another training run! I didn't want to lose momentum this close to the race. But first things first. I took the train to Edinburgh, walked to my hotel, dropped my bag, and went to the venue for the icebreaker. I got my name tag and my information package and went to find the drinks. And upon descending into where these were distributed I was flagged down  by Robin Edwards. Nice! He had done a postdoc in Amsterdam between 1998 and 2000, which meant I had already known him for 16 years. Later I saw there was an equally old acquaintance there: Wim Hoek. But most people there I either didn't know, or had only known for a few years. I was good to see him!

The icebreaker in the rainforest-themed part of the venue. Picture by Marian, last cruise's Marine Mammal Observer

Socialising during the icebreaker: fltr me, our own student Zoe, Louise, Robin and Richard. All these except Robin were on last year's cruise. Picture by Marian

 From the icebreaker we went to the pub. I managed to leave my information folder there. Oh dear! I feared that would happen. Luckily I had printed out the preliminary schedule. So the next morning I was well-prepared for the talks. And it was very interesting! People have done a lot of research on the North Sea. For all sorts of reasons. And I was sitting there, taking it all in. 

After the last talk we would gather with a lot of BRITICE-associated people, to discuss what we would do with radiocarbon dates. We found a table somewhere, but were booted out as the venue would close. James suggested we relocate to the hotel where we were both staying. And chose my room. As one does! But I must say, I never had such a stellar scientific team in my bedroom. BRITICE's primary investigator, the chief scientist of the cruise, two more BRITICE professors, and then two radiocarbon experts and my fellow postdoc Louise. It was interesting to fit them all in but the meeting was a success.  We're ready for the dates coming in! And afterwards we went to the pub. Of course. And while we were there anyway, we had dinner there too. Haggis!

The next morning started with a session on stuff that was older than the last glaciation. Very interesting, but not of acute use for the current project. So that was my chance on a run! I went into Holyrood Park. I noticed it was very windy, and I figured I should not go up to Arthur's Seat, but when it came down to it (or up, rather) I couldn't resist. I had to hold on to the triangulation pylon at the top for dear life! Blimey. I had to get down. On the way I was caught by the wind once, and struggled to regain control. I decided to stay low from then on! Which I did. A nice run. And then back tot the North Sea.

 

Nice ruin passed on my run through Holyrood Park

 

I came past Holyrood itself too

The North Sea is studied by people like me, but also by archaeologists, and windfarm engineers, and geophysicists and geographers and who not. But they all aim to understand the sediments, which means understanding what happened. So all of that was useful! And it's also good to consolidate existing contacts, and make some new ones.

That day ended with the conference dinner. It was on the other side of town. It rained when I set off; it poured when I was on my way. Blimey! But one is not made of sugar. It was nice to have a pre-dinner pint and the dinner was nice too. I went to the pub for one post-dinner pint, but was very aware of bedtimes, and was the first to leave.

 

On my way back from the conference dinner

The next day was interesting from start to finish. And at the end of it I just had time to kiss as many people goodbye as I could (mainly the Dutch, of course; Brits aren't much into that, although I managed a few) and had to then scamper to the railway station. A good start of the working year. The next day would be back to normal!

Scottish flora and fauna

With only photographs to illustrate the itinerary and the company the previous blog post was quite full already. But I took all kinds of pictures of the resident organisms too! Pretty lichen, caterpillars, nice flowers... and a grisly scene of a clump of beetles eating a dead mouse. And a nasty stowaway; in one of the bothies I found a very big slug in my backpack. And it had clearly goen in with a full stomach! The thing had been shitting green gunk all over the place. It was evicted.
I also saw a herd of deer in the distance, and closer by a young tree that was only as tall as the small adjacent yellow flower. And bog cotton blowing in the wind! And I thought I'd make a compilation... I recommend clicking on it to see it at proper size! Enjoy!

Scotland

Few people mean as much to me as my sister, but put us together for more than three days and we are at each other’s throat. She had been wondering for quite a time whether we could go hiking together one day, and circumstances made that extra topical this year. So then when I heard of group hikes along the so-called Stevenson Way I thought we might be onto a winner. The Stevenson Way, by the way, is a route that is based on the book “Kidnapped” by Robert Louis Stevenson, which is in turn based on historical events in mid-18^th Century Scotland. I hadn’t read the book, but the route looked nice. We would do the part called the Rannoch Moor walk. I was busy moving house to York, so I decided to let my sister sort things out and go with the flow. So we registered!

About a week before we would leave I received the travel details from the organiser, Ian. I was slightly concerned to see this group we had so actively sought to dilute each other’s company consisted of only three people. Oh dear! But now we just had to make the most of it. There was some confusion on what to expect and what to bring (this trip was new, and it showed), and there was some hurry because of my sudden trip to Belfast, but then on a Friday evening I was at the station to welcome Marieke. She was a bit agitated; just at the wrong time, and old foot/knee/ankle injury had flared up, and she wasn’t sure if she could do the trip. I decided to turn my “normal” backpack upside down, empty it and chuck it into the corner, and put all my stuff in the big winter pack. I figured we had best be self-reliant; if we had to pull out at least the rest of the group, which then would have been one lonely German chap and the mountain guide, could go on. I made sure I had a stove, lots of fuel, pots and pans, and coffee; we had all we needed. And the next day we were back at the station. And in Glasgow we met Susan, our guide, and Ian, the organiser, who would join us for the first day. 

Ian drove us to Glencoe, where we met the entire rest of the group, in the form of Olaf the German, and after an intermediate booze-buying stop (I had forgotten to bring any – must have been very distracted) and a final stop in Kinlochleven, where we divided the food and ate fish & chips so as to be nourished for the trek to the first bothy (the Scottish version of a mountain hut) we’d sleep in, we were off.

 

Kinlochleven, where we started

It was a wet day, but the terrain was beautiful, and our fellow travellers turned out to be very nice people. So far so good! But rather soon we met walkers coming the other way, mentioning that one of the bridges we were heading for had been swept away. They had had to wade! And we hoped to be able to avoid that: it tends to lead to very wet feet. But we got to the river, and had to admit there was no avoiding of wading. Through we went! Ian showed his chivalry by walking everybody’s bags through, and guiding us through one by one. You don’t want your customers to be swept away by a swollen river…

 

We would see much of this: Marieke getting excited about mushrooms, and educating us about them.  Susan in the background.

 

Lots of water on the hills! 

Ian guides Marieke through the stream

Later we would realise we would have to wade several time that day. It didn’t speed us up; by the time we reached the reservoir light was fading. The bothy was still many kilometres away! But in a bothy you can make a fire, and dry your stuff, so we pushed on anyway. It did come at a price; Olaf needed a patch of compeed before we reached the reservoir. We would get used to that: next year he might want to consider wearing compeed socks! By 10PM we switched on our head torches. And around that time, we reached a river we couldn’t wade through, and had to go around. And the path vanished. So by the time we finally saw a structure looming in the dark it was past midnight. Time for a quick fire, and then bed! 

 Ian and Olaf before it got too dark to take pictures

 

Well-deserved sleep in the bothy

The next day the easier bit of the trip. Ian left us, and in nice weather with showers we walked along a beautiful valley to Loch Treig. There we found a gravel road rather than a winding, boggy path (which was what we had had so far), so it was little effort to walk to a nearby youth hostel. And on this first full day already a pattern emerged: Susan and me up front, bantering away, and Olaf and Marieke some distance behind, probably also bantering. And with regular compeed stops.
The initial plan had been to camp, but with our boots still soggy we changed plan. So we checked into the hostel, doodled away some time, and went to the nearby Corrour station, which seems to be the highest and remotest railway station in the UK, and which has been made famous by Trainspotting. It’s not only a small station in the middle of a lot of nothing, but it’s also a restaurant. And we would enjoy that! 

Looking back on the bothy

 

Towards Loch Treig

 

I was there too

 

If you look closely enough you see Corrour Station and a train 

 Loch Ossian; between the trees is the youth hostel

 

Inside Corrour Station restaurant

The next day we would yet again walk to a bothy; the one near Ben Alder. The route first followed the same gravel road, which turned into a path, which turned into bushwhacking. Along the way I had a small episode of parting with my stomach content (oh dear!); sometimes one’s stomach is a bit more obstinate than normal during a hike. But my fellow walkers took some of my luggage and soon I felt fine again. 

 

Breakfast: scrambled egg (from egg powder) with salami!

 

A hike classic: group picture in sun glasses

When we had crossed the water divide the sun came out, and we walked to the hut through a postcard. By now Marieke’s injuries had caught up with her, and she was walking with difficulty when we reached the hut. Good we had a day of rest planned!

 Sister portrait

 Towards Loch Eiricht, where the Benalder cottage is

It was very crowded in the bothy, so Susan decided to sleep outside. I decided to have a wash; the loch was cold, and I had to go to a far bank in order to not upset a group of camping teenagers, but I felt great after it! I even dared a small swim. And we went to bed early.

 

I had to go out for a leak during the night - and of course brought my camera

The next day everybody else left. We had the place for ourselves! We decided to climb nearby Ben Alder, except Marieke, who was in need of some recovery. So we packed some warm clothes and some chocolate- and cereal bars into small bags and headed uphill. We walked straight into the fog, and had little hope of seeing anything at the top, but that turned out to be undeserved; just before we reached the top the clouds parted, and we had amazing views from underneath our hats and gloves. It might have been August, but it was cold up there! 

 

Breakfast outside, as it was crowded inside. But outside it was crowded with different organisms...

 

Me under the Ben Alder top

We came back into the sunshine. Time for another bath in the loch before it would start to rain again. And then a lazy evening with a fire, a game of Tantrix, a bit of whisky and some banter. We now had gotten to know each other rather well; the pint-sized and tough-as-nails guide, who spoke French and Russian and had many a story from her long history as mountain guide and person who does all kinds of activities with kids of all kinds of disadvantages, who didn’t drink coffee, tea or alcohol but liked cooking and pixar-like movies. And Olaf the freelance illustrator, who spoke really good Dutch and felt a bit short-changed that he had travelled so far to go on holiday with some Dutch women, while he lived only some 60 km from the Dutch border. He was the man with the cool tools and the suffering feet, who was a veritable human lyre bird in that he could imitate all the sounds around. And he gave rise to a new verb; because of me carrying all Marieke's and my shared stuff I had a heavy backpack, and on day one he saw me laboriously lift it onto my back, and said "you don't have to do that' we'll help you!" And he did. And I'm not one for rejecting kindness, so I got into the habit of asking for an "Olaf" when we moved on after a break. And even though it was more often Susan who answered, it's still known as Olaffing.

 

Trying to dry stuff on and near the stove

The lazy evening didn’t stay lazy; Susan decided to go and get some firewood, and I went along. I soon found out that was not without disadvantages: my boots got wet(ter) again, I was attacked by midges (forgotten the repellent – d’oh!), and to make things worse I found an irresistible but damn heavy log. My whole bath was undone by new-made sweat while I lugged that to the bridge. When I handed it to Susan a bit chunk broke off and fell into the river –nooo! Carried that for nothing. I grumpily lugged the rest to the hut and was very glad to get there. We didn’t even burn it, but someone else will one day have fun with it I trust.

 

 The bothy seen from a distance

That night we used two rooms! Luxury! And the next day we packed up and left. We walked past the loch, through utter swamp, until we reached another gravel road. We stayed on it until we reached an actual tarmac road. That was on purpose; Susan’s husband would restock us. This spared us carrying food for the whole week! And that very evening we would even have fresh fruit and veg! And the time we spent waiting wasn’t lost; Susan was worried about the rest of the trip. From here on it would get die-hard again, with lots of up and down and no paths. And no way out. She wondered if Marieke and her knees were up for that. No fun walking through the mountains if you’re in agony! But there might be another way; a signpost had alerted her to the probable existence of a path she wasn’t previously aware of. It would take us to the end point via easy terrain. And that would not be as beautiful, but it was feasible. We decided to go for it…

Good roads and phone signal

 Advice from a friendly local

When Susan’s husband arrived we were very glad to see him. Not only because he brought apples, oranges, carrots, grapes and more dry food, but also because Susan had told us about him and he sounded like a spiffing chap. And he came across and exactly that spiffing!

After dinner we walked on a bit, to get away from the road, and found a hilltop where there was the biggest chance of a midge-deterring breeze. Unfortunately, that breeze didn’t come. How happy we were with the midge nets!

 

Detailed signage 

Me in one of my favourite situations: just having had a bath! And on the river the midges didn't find me.

The next day we would largely walk through a forest, and then either camp in or near it, or push through to yet another bothy. And with fresh memories of the midges we hoped for the latter! And we made good progress. Soon we reached the end of the forest. Where everything suddenly became less straightforward; the path vanished and a swamp appeared. We tried to cross, but that involved lots of realising you couldn’t go on and having to turn back, talking increasing detours, sinking down to your thighs in the gunk, and getting stuck. Bad idea! We decided to follow the railway embankment instead. Not entirely the purpose of the embankment, but better that getting stuck for real.

 

The woods

 The railway, which floats on top of the swamp

After the embankment came the hummocky grass terrain. I don’t like that stuff! It’s very uneven, and you can’t see where you put your feet. Now it was Marieke and me in the back. I was glad to see the bothy! By the time we got there my feet hurt properly, and I decided on sitting on my arse for a bit, and drinking whisky (“so no change then” Susan remarked), until the pain subsided. Luckily it did. Time for another wash in the river! And that’s the advantage of travelling with continentals – then you can do that with several people at the same time! No British fear of the body. And it refreshed me no end, but that night I struggled to stay awake during a game of Tantrix…

 

Hiker (tired) and guide (chirpy) in bothy

 

The river looking pretty

The next day would be the last full walking day. All day on flat gravel roads. When I figured I was probably in more pain than Marieke I asked her to carry the tent, which she of course then did. We found a spot next to a river again. It was a nice spot, but it had many midges and ticks. We had had a few already, but here they were wandering around everywhere. But we had an escape – there was a pub at walking distance! That I couldn’t resist. So after my bath (I had forgotten we were in civilisation now – I was happily standing stark naked in the river when a dog walker came past. Oh dear! But she didn’t seem to mind, and even indicated that a bit upstream I could swim) we headed up there. I enjoyed the beer, and Olaf enjoyed the opportunity to get out his sketchbook and draw some of the other guests. And when we heard the place served food we decided to stay. Another pint! And even time for an exquisite whisky!

When we were about to leave we found Ian again, who would spend the night with us. And then drive us back to a convenient railway station the next day. We could report all had gone well! Yes, there had been injuries, tricky swamps, lost equipment (my spork and Olaf’s mug) and nasty beasties, but that was all within reason. We were getting a bit sentimental; tomorrow it would be over! It had been good. And Scotland said goodbye with a beautiful sunset. And with some gillie who tried to chase us off the land. Unfortunately for him, Susan knows the law of the land, and wasn’t having any of it!

 Our modest camp

 Goodbye from Scotland...

The next day we had breakfast (large amounts of porridge – Ian had brought more, as we had run out!) and packed up. Ian’s car was only a mile away. We said goodbye to Olaf who decided to walk to Bridge of Orchy where he would spend another night. And after admiring Rob Roy’s grave, and a coffee stop where we also shopped for tat we drove to Stirling, where Susan lived, and we caught the train to Edinburgh. It was over! And we had had excellent company in a beautiful part of the country. It had been a good decision! Anyone who fancies a good Scottish hike but doesn’t have the time, or can’t be asked, to organise it themselves, or who needs extra company: do as we did! It’s splendid!

And goodbye from us. Group picture: me, Susan (the guide), Olaf, and my sister. And a mushroom.

Hiking the swamp II: Scotland

“Hadrian’s Wall, that’s in England!” Last year there had been a hike with some of my oldest friends on Dartmoor, and they had enjoyed the rain and the pubs. So they wanted more. A plan had been made to have a sequel in Scotland; as much rain there! Someone had suggested Hadrian’s Wall. Hugh, however, had been invited too, and he’s not very gullible; he figured immediately that you can’t go to Scotland and follow this wall at the same time. He wanted some Scotland, and preferably some wild tough parts of it. So he suggested the Cairgorms. And after some mailing up and down, and some checking of logistic possibilities, the die was cast, and Cairgorms it would be. To be entered from Aviemore.

Two days before we left I checked the weather forecast. A weather warning for heavy rain! If it’s heavy by Scottish standards it must be ghastly. Oh well. We don’t go for comfort.

We met at Edinburgh Waverley ticket office. It was great to see everybody again! The Dutch contingent was the same as last year. And that’s a very good contingent. And when the tickets were purchased some of us went into town to buy the last supplies: bread (which is best bought as late as possible to preserve freshness) and fuel (which we couldn’t bring by plane). Viking and I volunteered for keeping an eye on the luggage while enjoying a pint. And a sandwich later we were in the train, seeing the sun set and the rain fall. We reached Aviemore where a cab awaited us, and brought us to the campsite, where we were greeted by disapproving grunts by the off-duty warden. He objected to us arriving after dark, apparently unaware this had been OK’d by the proprietor. Feeling somewhat indignant we pitched our tents, cooked pasta, and enjoyed the beers the shopping party had spontaneously added to the shopping list. And we turned this into a musical-style hike. Nothing you can say that can’t be sung! “The pan won’t hold all of the pasta” will surely soon be a chart topper.

The next morning it rained, but not very hard. After breakfast we left, to start our marvellous hike. We were forced to start on asphalt, but soon we found ourselves on cute, well-maintained little paths through impressive autumnal terrain. Slowly the rain got heavier while the terrain got wilder and the trees sparser.

During our first break the trouble started. Both Maaike and I had to conclude our brand new, rather expensive GoreTex jackets were not at all waterproof. Some of the other jackets were not up for the local conditions either. This could become a rather wet hike!

The start, on asphalt

Soon replaced by a cute path

The very autumnal landscape

The trees soon vanished

Soon after this break we reached a saddle in the valley. The terrain got blocky, the path vanished. We managed to scramble over the slippery blocks, but not entirely without problems; Roelof slipped, and scraped his hand and wrist along the jagged rock. That was only a scratch, but this terrain could easily inspire heavier injuries. We had to be careful!

The blocky terrain; somewhat treacherous when the rock is all wet

After the saddle we found a swamp, and then a valley, largely hidden in clouds. Somewhere in this valley we had a cold and uncomfortable lunch. The rain hadn’t stopped for even a minute! And there was no shelter.

At around four o’clock some people were suffering from sore feet and similar ailments. And we were all cold and wet. We walked past a small field that wasn’t too swampy or bumpy, so we decided to take no chances, and camp there for the night. A waterfall provided drinking water; small lakes offered the option for a bath, but strangely enough nobody was keen to take up the invitation.

Packing up after lunch

The weather is bad, the mood is fine!

Many of the lakelets we passed were probably dry land under more normal circumstances.

We pitched the tents. As mine is the biggest, I offered to pitch only the shell, so we would have maximum space inside. After all the tents were pitched, and several people had gotten into something dry, we gathered in it. We all fit, including Hugh’s and my backpacks. And then we managed to light a stove! Roelof surprised everyone with making fresh and multi-coloured krupuk inside the tent. We had two Trangia’s and one MSR whisperlite; it’s not recommended to light a whisperlite inside a tent (even though I admit I have done it), but a trangia is rather harmless. I never had green and pink krupuk, let alone freshly fried; I didn’t expect to have my debut in my tent!

Colourful krupuk in the tent! Made by Roelof, who keeps his hood on, to be sure...

This was the view (or what passes for it) later in the evening

With all seven in the tent, and a lit stove, it got very steamy inside. But better steamy than rainy and cold, as it was outside! It was actually quite snug, although the population density lead to some sleeping limbs and cramping muscles.

While we were gathered anyway we talked through the plans for the coming days; my suggested route was clearly too ambitious. And the fuel was running out faster than anticipated too. We decided to turn back the next morning, and at the first opportunity where we could escape this valley we would decide on what to do next.

When dinner (rice with quorn and gado-gado) was eaten all dispersed. This was our cue to pitch the rest of the tent, and to finally get into something dry. I hadn’t dared change much more than my shirt, as I feared everything I touched would make my until-then dry clothes wet too. But now we were inside the inner tent, and the microfleece trousers could appear. Snug! It was a nice night with lots of listening to the wind and the rain chastising the tent. But when I woke up I heard no wind and rain.

Our camp in the morning

I got out. It was a bit hazy, but dry! I was very glad. I immediately seized the opportunity for a bath – I like bathing on a hike! But not the night before.

The bathroom!

We had pancakes and coffee for breakfast. While we were enjoying that a red deer came majestically walking past on the hillside above us. What a start of the day!

The deer in the mist

Only lightly sprinkled with rain we walked back down the valley. Even though we walked through a negative gradient of landscapely roughness it was beautiful. And this day we even came across other walkers; first a British couple going the opposite way, and later a solitary Dutch bloke, who immediately recognised us as (largely) Dutch too, by the four pairs of camouflage GoreTex trousers…

The relatively dry second day

Viking and Roelof

At the point where we had to decide on the route we simply decided to keep following the river. It would lead us into the woods near Aviemore. At first it lead through swampy heathland, but slowly the trees returned. And finally, also the sun. When the first ray hit us we met a ranger, who commented on all these Dutch (and other non-UK) people that seem to like hiking in autumnal Scotland. Hmm yes, we might be a bit strange…

Where to go?

Into the valley

I was there too!

Erik being theatrical

Lunch with mackerel in tomato sauce!

The terrain got woodier

I met this little chap only days earlier in Finland!

Sun!

Soon afterwards we found a perfect camping spot. One could tell it was in use more often! Henco and I kept an eye on the bags (and a hand on the whisky) while others checked if there was an even better place, but we stuck to this one. This evening we had a curly kale with death-by-sausage feast. And lots of whisky! This trip was showing its opulent side.

Dinner!

Vain attempts to dry some kit in the tree underneath which we were cooking

And opulence reached a peak the next morning. We couldn’t bring fuel back, so we had to finish it all. The slogan was: coffee and pancakes until the fuel runs out. A dream come true! The next morning I jumped out of bed. Pancakes and coffee until the fuel runs out! The thought alone had me outside the tent before the morning pink had left the sky.

Pink morning sky!

Our camp in the morning

It WAS great! Even though we ran out of syrup (the best thing on pancakes!) Erik decided to use “sour faces” instead. I can tell you, these melt in heat. And draw sticky threads. Brr!

Pancakes! With syrup!

Erik makes his dubious "sour faces"-pancake

Just when everybody was satisfied the last stove went out. Brilliant! So we packed up, and headed for town. We planned to not take the straightest route, but be in town in the early afternoon anyway, and then first check out the Old Bridge Inn (I had checked their website during the preparations); and the ranger we had met the day before ad also said something about a bunkhouse. That may come in handy…

Just before we got to Aviemore we got a goodbye present from the weather gods...

As soon as we reached town we reached the inn. Excellent! We enjoyed a beer and lunch while the bunkhouse decided whether it had space for us. Fortunately it did, but unfortunately not all together; we were spread out over two rooms, and both rooms also had additional guests. We would not make us popular with them… We were a world of dubious, damp smells. And we saved the worst for the drying room (yay! A drying room!) but we did have enough left to infest the sleeping rooms too.

When we had all showered and changed we went back to the pub, for more beer, and a meal. The meal was excellent! Amazing deer, and ditto chocolate mousse. This trip had turned from hardship through opulence to luxury. And after dinner there was more beer. And a pub quiz. Roelof was disappointed in the questions on philosophy, and I was disappointed in my answers on 80’s lyrics (though I had extensively practiced! “A path to walk on, without hurting your ankle, oh baby, don’t look any further”...). And we all disagreed with the booklet that claimed Snæfjell lies on the Isle on Man.

View from the pub! We were snugly inside. 

With my reputation shattered by recognizing lyrics from “Rent” (Pet Shop Boys) we called it an evening and went home. We were just in time to witness that Erik wasn’t feeling very well, in a rather noisy way. Poor girl sharing the room with us… but apart from that, the stench, and Roelof’s snoring, all was well. And the next morning everybody felt fine again! We just turned the bunkhouse’s kitchen into a cloud of smoke by finishing the pancake batter at record speed, and then we left the place to its own peace.

We all caught the same train, but in Perth Hugh and I had to change. Our flight form Edinburgh had been cancelled, and we had to go back over Glasgow. We said goodbye in haste on the platform. This was the end of Zomphop II! It hadn’t gone according to plan, but I had had a lovely time. I suppose I even would have if we would have crouched in sewers all the time; these friends are special and splendid. But getting their company AND beautiful landscapes AND bonuses as pancakes, deer and beer really can’t go wrong. Next year Snowdonia? Lake district? I can’t wait!