| Flight details: | I drove up for the North-South Cup as a neutral observer, with Richard Bungay of the Southern squadron. We gathered at Bridge of Orchy, where the word was that we'd fly nearby Ben Toaig. But Friday morning dawned grey and breezy, and we drove across the Highlands to Blair Atholl, there to walk up Carn Liath, a 975-metre peak that's part of Beinn A Ghlo.
Some stopped about two-thirds of the way up, confident of their ability to climb, but I and several others continued to the summit, wanting to give ourselves the best possible start. Sunny patches began to break through, and Dave Thomson soon showed that it wasn't hard to climb, with our own Mark Watts also soaring easily.
Off went the masses, and I joined a sizable gaggle. These top pilots fly close together, which I found a bit daunting. I was also a bit concerned that the cloud was still pretty solid, with not many gaps to aim for, so I stopped a little short of base, unlike a few others, and then set off on my own towards a sunlit hill.
Now, guess who got it right, me on my own or about 30 of Britain's top pilots in the gaggle that I abandoned? I soon found myself scratching on a slope that wasn't quite steep enough to soar. I held out for quite a while, but every scrappy little climb was drifting me towards a shallow coll that I didn't fancy going through low. Only afterwards, looking at the map, did I realise that heading a little way east when I had the chance would have brought me to a steeper slope where I might have waited for a proper climb.
As it was, I landed by the Tarf Water, in country that I'd walked often in many years ago. I instantly remembered how long it had taken to walk in and out. I'd even foolishly landed on the wrong side of the river, so I had to take my boots off and wade across. Four hours of walking followed, before I was rescued by an estate worker on his way down to Blair Atholl, with another pilot already in his car.
On Saturday we went to Ben Gulabin above Spittal of |
