A Tale of Two Summits

The wonderful sheep of Scotland. And here, I'll include a truly awful joke from my really sweet, vegetarian friend: "Why
did the sheep cross the road? So we could have them for haggis at supper!" (Disclaimer: None of these sheep were harmed in the making of that night's dinner. They're just too cute!)

One of the things I really love about Scotland is the scenery. On the university grounds, there's a loch, swans and rabbits all over the place, and the grounds look amazing. From the grounds, you can see the beginnings of the Ochil Hills. I've been looking up at these mountains since I first arrived on campus, wanting to climb them. Finally one Saturday, I decided to wake up early and head out to climb Dumyat, part of the Ochil Hills range. I checked the weather forecast, dressed appropriately, packed a lunch and headed out.

I intended to do more of a vlog-style post for my trip to Dumyat's summit, but the weather worked against me. It's pretty obvious from the second clip, but the wind was quite strong--and that was at the base of the climb! (P.S., In that section of the video, I only said that the weather report about the wind was quite accurate, I noted that it was snowing, and I tried to point out the landmarks in Stirling's skyline.) Anyway, I was doing well with the whole vlog idea. I was pretty excited to take a video from the top, get some good footage of the views. I was also looking forward to eating lunch.

As I got closer to the summit, it started to get colder, but I was expecting that. I pressed on, my hands shoved deep into my pockets to keep them warm. As I neared the summit, it started to snow. I was only about a fifty-foot climb from the top, and though I knew my clothes wouldn't be enough if the weather worsened, I also knew I would be very disappointed if I made it that close to the top, only to turn back before I got there. So I decided to climb the fifty or so feet to the top. Bad idea.

Almost as soon as I got to the top of Dumyat, the wind and snow worsened into near-blizzard conditions. I couldn't see anything other than the other hikers taking shelter behind the rocks, pulling on extra gear from their backpacks. The wind was so strong that I struggled to stay upright as I staggered towards a small rock formation I could use as shelter. As I had no extra gear, I huddled behind a rock, pulled by hood over my face, pulled the drawstring tight, shoved my hands into my pockets, and hoped the storm would clear quickly.

The storm probably only lasted for about fifteen minutes, but given that I was inadequately dressed, and tend to overreact to dangerous situations, it seemed much longer. Deep down, I knew I was going to be fine--a complete stranger offered me her extra fleece--but, going into full panic mode, I started flashing back to episodes of I Shouldn't Be Alive, where the person telling the story nearly froze to death on a mountain. I was literally sitting on top of a mountain, huddled behind a rock, listening to Tina Fey's audiobook, muttering "I'm too young to die!" Not my proudest moment.

When the wind and snow died down a bit, I decided it was time for me to try to head back down. It was slow going at first--my shoes were not snow appropriate, so I kept slipping, and the wind was so strong that the snow felt like it was cutting my face and hands. Finally, I made it further down the mountain, where the winds weren't so strong, and the snow was no longer coating the mountain around me. From there, I made it down the mountain almost without incident. Since my shoes were not hiking shoes, I had some trouble on the mud. I didn't fall once--until I was right in front of a family stopped for lunch. I wiped out. My foot slid out from under me and I landed flat on my ass. But other than that, the return journey went without any problems, and I was soon back at AK Davidson with a hot chocolate, curled up under my delightfully warm duvet.

Me, Ruth and Aashika in our lovely matching hiking suits.

And now the story of the second summit... One of the many Arcadia-sponsored events of the semester is the Firbush activity weekend, where all sorts of outdoors activities are available. As soon as I saw kayaking and mountain-biking on the list, I signed up. On Friday, the Firbush staff picked the Stirling students up at the train station, and we were off! (A fun fact for the Monty Python fans--the Firbush activity center is only a few miles from the site of the attack of the killer rabbit.)

The first night was just dinner--I can't even describe how much I enjoyed having a delicious dinner without having to do any cooking! Saturday was when the adventures began. For the Arcadia group, Firbush always runs a 'hill walk' on Saturday. If you ask me, this term in no way captures the essence of the experience. To prepare for the hill walk, we were all outfitted with hiking boots, extra socks, waterproof pants, a waterproof jacket, a hat and gloves, and a rucksack. All the jackets and pants were either red or blue, so we looked like a band of surfs heading up the mountain!

The ice on blades of grass caused by all the wind. 

Once we got to the base of the trail, our guide explained that we would be climbing a 'Munro,' which is the term given to mountains with a summit higher than 3,000 feet. The weather was so foggy, that it was impossible to tell where we were headed. In fact, from the base of the trail, I couldn't even tell that there was a mountain nearby! The hike was a pretty good workout. It took somewhere between two and three hours to get to the top, and we stopped for lunch along the way. (I might add that it's not easy to eat lunch with frozen fingers, but it's also not easy to eat with thick mittens on. I tried.)

Just an idea of how thick the fog was...there's
ten people walking in line there.

By the time we reached the summit of the Munro, we were at the snow-capped peaks of the mountain range. The wind at the summit is so strong so often that ice freezes to blades of grass, freezing in large chunks formed by the wind. As our group makes its way to the very top, the fog is so thick that it's difficult to see more than fifteen feet in front of you--I stop hiking at one point to take a few pictures, and when I look up, my small group has disappeared into the fog and mist ahead. I feel as if I'm walking through a cloud.

The descent goes much quicker than the climb--and we get lucky. A strong wind comes through the valley, clearing the fog, and suddenly I can see for what must be miles. The land is beautiful, and when the fog rolls in again, I think that I must have imagined the scenery that is again obscured. Here, I will let the pictures do the talking, for a picture is worth a thousand words. And I'm far to tired to write a thousand words. I will just add that the hiking trip ended perfectly when we got back to the car park to find a group of sheep crossing the road. Apparently the grass is indeed greener on the other side!

The breath-taking views of the valley. I'm so glad the fog cleared out, because this landscape is truly stunning.

A tout a l'heure mes amis!