Eddie just before the start. Tony is holding up our board and the midges are biting. Photo Pippa Weir
THE EVENT
On Friday I drove up to Lochgilphead from a week's work away from home down in the English Midlands, then we took the van on to Kyle of Lochalsh where we met up with Ian in the car, and Dave who had come with his girl friend Pippa.
Meanwhile Colin was driving the mothership, as we called his camper, and the rest of the team up from England.
As it was now so late, we decided we had better have some pub food before the crossing to Skye. A small chilli con carne seemed poor preparation for my start in five hours time, so I munched through most of the goodies we had with us.
At Broadford hotel a while later, we met Bryn Roberts, Chris Schiller and John Clarke who had come up from Liverpool to rope us over the awkward bits of the Cuillin ridge. They were standing outside swathed like Arabs against the midges, cooking their meal and sorting out their gear. We went round the clientele with our collecting tins, and found people both willing to give, and deeply interested in what we were doing. By the time everything was sorted out for the morning and Pippa had driven Dave and me to our camp at the start it was 11.30, just two and a half hours before I was due to get up.
The midges had not been too bad putting the tents up, but soon it sounded like a rain-storm with them battering the tent. At midnight Tony arrived and reversed straight into a ditch, so we had to rise to get him out. That in itself was not difficult, but as I squirmed out of my tiny tunnel tent, the midges descended on my naked body like a blanket – I could probably have walked down a town high street without committing indecent exposure. The next half hour was spent scratching, so I had not been long asleep when I heard the stove going next door.
“Ten past two,” Pippa calls – Hell I've overslept – I'd forgotten to set the alarm. I rushed out of the tent to mercifully few midges. Pippa produced a mug of tea, and I was stuffing down some muesli as the midges descended again. I didn't quite manage to get ready for 2.30, but despite raring to to go at a few seconds past 2.32, and the others desparate to escape the midges, we had to wait for a precise minute with everyone dancing the midge reel.
Meanwhile Ian and the climbing team were rising in Glen Brittle for their various positions on the ridge. Tony was to drive round and take over their tent, whilst Dave and Pippa went back to bed until a civilised hour.
There is no charge for reading this account but please consider donating to Worldwide Cancer Research, the new name for the charity that we ran for.
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