Up and Away - Climbing Mealisval!

The cairn on the peak of Mealisval, the highest point in the Outer Hebrides. That’s me with one of my English companions. It was a windy day, a little snowy, but all in all, not too bad for climbing.

The day began at sunrise with a hearty farm breakfast of porritch with fresh cream, poached eggs, strawberries, and coffee. Believe me when I say the Scots are the kings of porritch-making. And they can poach a mean egg. I think every croft comes equipped with some sort of perfect egg-poacher.

We tossed our luggage atop the van, piled in and drove until we came to a mountain. Graham parked at the end of a dirt rode.

“You have a choice. This is Mealisval, the highest peak in the Outer Hebrides. We can climb this peak or we can drive a couple hours and do an easier hike.”

We all sort of looked at each other, a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t as if he was giving us much choice in the matter. I mean, we were already there and when you’re on a hiking trip the last thing you want to do is ride in a car for hours. I knew Mrs. MacKenzie had expected something much easier on her first full day of hiking. We all did, but at that point, none of us voiced any opposition. Let’s face it, we’d come to Scotland to do some hiking so hiking we would do.

So we set off. Three miles cross country through a peat bog to reach the base of Mealisval. For those of you who’ve never hiked through a peat bog, I have to tell you, it’s quite an experience. This was an old peat bog that had been harvested for centuries by crofters, so in many places, the land had eroded into deep crevasses, maybe ten to fifteen feet across and eight to ten feet deep. The trick was to find your way into the crevasse, follow it as far as you could before it turned off in the wrong direction, and then find a place to climb out safely. The view of Mealisval was our guide as the group did not stay together and we really couldn’t see one another most of the time. Graham set off ahead by himself. My husband, who was perfectly capable of out-hiking all of us, stayed in the rear to help Mrs. MacKenzie. The rest of us scattered, finding our own way. It was a bit like being in the Minotaur’s maze.

You know, there was an easier way to the base of Mealisval. A pathway snaked from the road where we’d parked to the base of the mountain. When I caught up to Graham I asked him why we didn’t take the path. He shot me a dirty look.

“This is Scotland. In Scotland you walk where you please.”

“Yes, but why not take the path?”

“A Scot wouldn’t use a path. We don’t need to use paths for hiking in Scotland. We go right across country.” Paths? We don’t need no stinkin’ paths.

“I don’t understand. You’re telling me a Scot would rather struggle through a peat bog?” The truth is, I just wanted to know. Why not take the path to the base of the mountain? I mean, the scramble was interesting and all, but it also added a great deal of unnecessary difficulty to the hike. I knew Mrs. MacKenzie must really be struggling considering her vision problems. And I had a hard time believing Scottish people would actually choose to hike through a bog rather than take a path.

Graham stalked off without another word.

Remember the description of the trip: hiking along well-defined trails, twelve to sixteen miles per day, with occasional easy to moderate climbs.

The climb itself was fun. Yes, the winds blew and occasionally the sky spit out snow and ice, but I do love hiking, climbing and fabulous views. I don’t mind challenging myself. Probably a third of the way up the mountain, Mrs. MacKenzie announced that she could not go any further. Her vision wasn’t good enough to allow her to scramble up the rocks. Some of this stuff was pretty damn steep. It certainly wasn’t an easy climb.

Those of us who were ahead realized the rest had stopped and we descended.

Graham, in a nasty tone of voice to Mrs. MacKenzie: “If you can’t go any further, we all have to turn back.” You’re ruining the hike for everyone, you stupid American cow.

Mrs. MacKenzie: “I wasn’t expecting to climb a mountain on my first day.”

Graham: “Well, what were you expecting?”

Mrs. MacKenzie: “A trail.”

Graham: “There are no trails in Scotland. This is what we’ll be hiking on every day. This trip is obviously far beyond your abilities. I guess we’ll have to find leisurely strolls from now on.”

Really? What an SOB. No trails in all of Scotland? And here I thought tramping or hiking was the national pastime.

Mrs. MacKenzie, near tears: “I don’t want to ruin the hike for everyone.”

Me: “Um, Mrs. MacKenzie, do you see that large pile of rocks up there, in the saddle halfway up the mountain?”

She nodded. I knew she didn’t want to be the spoiler Graham was making her out to be.

Me: “Do you think you can make it that far? I noticed an overhang when I passed and you could wait there out of the wind. As long as you don’t move from that spot, I think you’ll be fine, and we’ll be able to get you on the way down. It would be a good place to have lunch anyway. How does that sound, Graham?”

He shrugged and looked around the group. As long as Mrs. MacKenzie was willing… So up we went, everyone except Graham helping her and providing moral support.

Other than my concern for Mrs. MacKenzie, and my guilt about leaving her alone, the climb was just terrific. The views from the top were fantastic, but unfortunately the weather changed for the worse and The MacKenzie headed down to retrieve his wife and get her back to the van as quickly as possible. Graham guided the rest of us down the far side of Mealisval, saying he doesn’t like to backtrack. We headed away from the MacKenzies, descended over a number of seriously steep rock outcroppings, and ended up back in the peat bog.

The English physician and I were hiking together. As the weather worsened, we came to the conclusion that struggling through the peat bog was bullshit and we managed to find another trail from the far side of the mountain leading to the road. Even though it added a good mile or more to our hike, we still made it back to the van first.

Yes, it was a good day’s hike, but I knew Mrs. MacKenzie was feeling awful about herself. It wasn’t her fault. She’s in good shape and she’s done some big hiking trips, it’s just that she could not see well and and the footing was very treacherous. The hiking was not as described. I was still good with it, but I was furious with Graham for making it so obvious he thought Mrs. MacKenzie should just go home, that she should never have come on the trip in the first place. The next day his attitude got even worse.

Tomorrow - Mrs. Harris and the Lighthouse.

Related posts:

1. It always starts with a warning. Sron Uladal on the Isle of Harris in Scotland. Yes,...
2. The Ferry, The Isle of Lewis, The Callanish Stones I think I’ll let you relish my first magical day...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.