www.fifeac.co.uk

Relay Magazine October 1990 

I started my fortnight's summer holiday on the afternoon of Thursday 19th July to drive 350 miles north to my parents' home. It was very hot and sunny. I had on board a vast array of camping equipment, running gear, cycling gear and my mountain bike. I was determined to have my usual very active holiday and that was how it turned out.

I had received a message from Tom 'Tarzan' Ross saying that he and the other Fife runners would meet me at the campsite on Skye, and I set off at around lunchtime on Friday. The weather was once again glorious. I arrived at about 6pm and after pitching my tent I bumped into former Fife AC member Alan 'Bananaman' Farningham. We went to sample the local brew and upon finding that he intended bivvying out, I offered him a place to lay his head, as I had room in my tent. We retired at about 11:30pm but were disturbed shortly after midnight by the arrival of a car on site.

"Haw Melville! Are ye there?" SILENCE. "Where are ye Melville?"

This signalled the arrival of the drink-crazed three-man posse from Fife - Tom Ross, Pete Low and John Cummins. Cars were moved and tents pitched amidst a cacophony of sound. A camping neighbour requested quiet and this was granted for a few minutes, after which the noise resumed until the tents was fully pitched. Quiet again. A strange sound emanated from the Galloping Irishman's tent. Was he about to indulge in a night of passion with a blow-up doll? (He hadn't seen his wife for more than a week!) The sound brought raucous laughter and ribald comments from our intrepid band but John, in between suppressed giggles, continued inflating his air mattress. Finally, silence reigned once more.

Saturday dawned bright and cloudless. The midges were out in force. After a hurried breakfast plans were laid for the day. Tom Ross, who was still unable to run competitively after his accident, set off to walk up to and along part of the Cuillin Ridge. John, Pete, Alan Farningham, Des 'Hoodie' Crowe (DHH ssss...) and I decided to have a short run. We set off along the path towards Loch Coruisk. One hour 20 minutes later we arrived back at the Sligachan Hotel and campsite. So much for a short run with a tough race in the afternoon.

Runners were arriving for the David Shephard Glamaig Hill Race. The hill shimmered in the hot sun. We tried to relax until race time. There were several tactical race entries (Tom Ross and Mrs. Audrey Crowe, Des' wife, amongst them) for reasons shortly to be revealed. Neither of the aforementioned had any intention of running, (Tom was still on the Cuillin Ridge) and were withdrawn just before the start.

Eventually the race started and we set off along the road, across the bog and on up the hill. If anything it was hotter than ever. The climb is extremely steep with stones, dislodged by those above, constantly rolling down towards the slower climbers. The descent on long rocky screes can be extremely hazardous. I believe that the view from the top is spectacular, but I didn't take the time to admire it. Eventually after re-crossing the bog and stumbling along the road I was glad to be finished. On crossing the line I was handed a miniature of Talisker malt whisky and offered orange juice to drink. We bathed in the river, which was warmer than many an indoor swimming pool. After drying and changing we headed back to the hotel where in exchange for a voucher, handed out along with race numbers when entering, we received a meal and 2 pints of beer. (Now you can appreciate the reason for the tactical entries)  All of this for the princely sum of £1.

On Sunday morning the four intrepid Fife men set off to walk up to the Cuillin ridge and to inspect the Bastard Tooth. It was a bit of a struggle but worth the effort for the spectacular views over the entire island. There was hardly a breath of wind and the sun beat down once more. On our way back we decided to bathe in a deep pool beneath a waterfall. We all flinched on testing the water. It must have been barely above freezing. Nevertheless we all had a quick dip.

After a liquid lunch, Tom, John and Pete set off to return to Fife, having arranged to meet up at Fort William the next weekend. The island breathed a sigh of relief. Next day I did some exploring of the island on my own before setting off again for more northerly parts.

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