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The Last Corbett.
The last Corbett.
I was up before the Dawn,
Half past twelve to be precise.
I knew it would be tough
and I knew there’d be a price.
To let you understand,
I had two real good friends
Who needed financial help
To cut down on their spends.
They had to travel North
To finish what they had started,
But they needed Petrol money
It was not for the fainthearted.
To finally accomplish
A very special thing,
To tick off every Corbett
And feel like you’re a King.
That sense of great achievement
To finish Scotland’s best.
All those bloody Corbett’s
And then to have a rest.
The “A” Nine it was quiet,
Just an occasional lorry
We all shared in the driving,
Kept awake with stories.
It was ten past five
When we parked the car,
set to with the rucksacks
The sky it had one star.
Two other cars were parked
A silence filled the day.
Gaiters fixed, everybody ready
Then let’s be on our way.
The walk in was a long one
Roughly five and a half miles,
Till you reach the Corbett
I tried to keep a smile.
It was after only one hour
That it began to rain
The mist was on our heads
My thighs could feel a pain.
The weather is a must
To really make your day
For walking is not easy
On feet that feel of clay.
After three hours walk
We began at last the descent
Down towards the Bothy
Surrounded by small tents.
The Mountains stood before us
Craggy and so high.
Their pinnacles seemed to reach
Way up in to Gods sky
The rucksack off my shoulder
Was such a welcome feel.
Time to grab a rest
Put a plaster on my right heel.
There was cow shit every where
They wandered far and near,
Way off in the distance
You could see a Stag and deer.
The weather it got better
I would not call it hot,
But temperatures were high
As I struggled with boot knots.
Onwards across the bog land
To reach the real assault,
Thank God I eat my porridge
And enjoy a small Scotch Malt.
The terrain was simply awful
Your feet fell to grass roots.
The mountainside was soaking
Just like your socks and boots.
To say that I struggled
To reach the bloody top
Would be an understatement,
A term I want to drop..
The summit was in mist
But we could see the light,
We had tamed a Beast,
Though the midges they did bite.
We sat for just an hour
To eat and drink and moan.
But when we tried to pass it on,
There was “no service” on the bloody phone.
The journey down was bad,
I wished for knees of steel,
Exhaustion just kicked in
I could not even feel…
Down at last to the bog land
This Corbett was ticked off,
But another two miles beckoned
Through this land of trough.
At last again the Bothy
Shelter and a pee,
Just some time to celebrate
How great we are , this three.
Now we have the walk out,
And it is all up hill,
The time is four PM
The air is turning chill.
Christ my knees were sore
As we headed up the gorge.
I quickly fell behind
My stomach wanted disgorge.
The guys they had to wait
As I was oh so slow,
But time it was against us
They knew it was a blow.
The clock it was a ticking
To get back to the car,
This journey was a bugger
And I could see it far.
We had left at half five,
Got back at half past six,
Then to find a campsite
To set up all our sticks.
I have never felt so knackered
In fact I thought I’d die,
But the Human Spirits something
That I think you cannot buy.
So if they phone again
And want another trip,
Something as energetic,
That money in I must chip.
I think I’ll tell them now,
“I am havening a good rest,
And listening to Horst Jankowski.”
“A walk in the Black Forest.”
How relaxing.
And no Midges.
