The longest and most difficult Highland March to date finished in Inveress Caledonian Thistle's 'unjust' relegation from the Scottish Premier League. As is tradition throughout Highland March, the troops have put together a diray of events, which will certainly provide a valuable insight into just what these guys and gals have achieved.
Kilmarnock to Inverness - 184 miles in 7 days!!! It's just a walk!!!

Highland March 7 diary

Since Inverness CT were promoted to the Scottish Premier League in 2004, us Highland Marchers have always dreaded (yet looked forward to) the ultimate walk to or from Kilmarnock, and however fortunate or unfortunate it may seem, this is exactly what Highland March 7 was going to be.

With almost 200 miles to cover by car between Inverness and Kilmarnock, we set about planning routes where we could somehow drop a few miles to make it shorter on foot - The obvious choice here was to do the reverse of Highland March 5 via the West Highland Way and Great Glen, yet accommodation for the week became an issue. Other thoughts of connecting routes taken on Highland Marches 2 and 3 also surfaced but still meant we’d be looking in excess of 190 miles.

As if the route wasn’t a problem, we had the added ‘bonus’ of needing to be in Inverness for a 1230 kick off on the final day of the season, meaning we had an extra 30+ miles to cover and a day less to do it in comparison to previous events!

Getting onto the PC’s route planning software, we eventually agreed on the most direct route possible, North through Glasgow to the WHW, out at Dryman and onwards to Aberfoyle. We then planned to go up and over the hills and off-road for most of the way via Kinloch Rannock and Glen Tromie, until Slochd Summit on the A9 where we then take to the tarmac for the final few miles into Inverness. With the computer data showing over 24,000ft worth of climbing for the week, Highland March 7 had by now been dubbed “A marathon incorporating Ben Nevis for 7 days back to back” - 182 miles!

We welcome on board a new name to Highland March this year, as Michael Laidlaw (aka Wumba - named as such due to his friendship with Chumba) joins rank. We also welcome back Gringo for the full week after a 2 year absence. Other names in the hat this year are March legends Yompa and Gringo Junior - the only 2 to have completed an End-to-End on every Highland March to date - Slater and Dunco, who completed HM6, return this year for more punishment, whilst the ever present General Dogsbody (Dogs) returns to provide support in this years vehicle.

With the Highland March taking a break from direct funding for the first year since it began, the intrepid group agree to assist in the promoting of sister event, the Tartan March. Brain child of our very own Chumba, he and fellow walkers Slater, Wumba and Lady Madonna, intend to walk from Olso (Norway) to Hampden Park (Glasgow) for Scotland’s final World Cup qualifying fixtures. This of course meant that with other commitments surrounding him, Chumba - along with partner Lady Madonna - was unable to take part in this years full Highland March.

Another new recruit this year was our brand new flag pole. Since ending Highland March 6, the tree we had then acquired, complete with root, had become brittle and weak; so it was definitely not capable of sustaining the weight of our flag for a full 7 days. Disposing of this new Icon, all troops had set their sights on another replica flagpole. Yompa answered the call a couple of days before the off, and posted a picture of his 10ft monster on the forums.

The troops, flagpole and route all sorted, all we had to do was get on with it!

Setting off for Killie.

Kilmarnock was to be our beginning this year, and with 200 road miles between there and Inverness, an overnight stop near the starting post was a must to ensure all troops were well rested. Already on the ball in that department, Yompa offered to put us all up at his house just a few miles away - a grand gesture indeed - and even set about preparing our dinner, ready for our arrival.

The Support Vehicle had to be picked up before the usual jaunt to each Marchers individual rendezvous, so that we could set off in time to beat most of the rush hour traffic that we would inevitably come across on hitting the Glaswegian suburb’s.

Gringo Jnr had already set off to assist Dogs with loading the vehicle up and to gather Dunco and Wumba from their locations. Gringo was on his train from Coventry by this time, and Slater would join us at the match itself as working late meant a late departure from Inverness.

Heading down the A9, thoughts about how the vehicle would last the week surfaced. Instead of the usual luxury of a 12 seater mini-bus with plenty of boot-space for luggage, we were instead provided with a 9-seater Land Rover that had perhaps itself seen better days. 3 of the 9 seats would be taken up with baggage for the week, and with more people intending to meet up with us in the week, you could see well before hitting Aviemore that this could be a problem.

Navigator for the journey South was Gringo Jnr, but not without the aid of good old SatNav. On setting it up, icons flashed on screen to enable the choice of day or night displays, as well as the type of vehicle icon to be shown on the route. On asking the others on board which icon they preferred, Dunco simply replied “which ever one goes faster”. Such a shame when realising it was only the icon that changed and not the vehicle itself!

Day 1.

Highland March 7 was well etched into the minds of those taking part as potentially the most difficult event to date, and some of the Marchers requested a slightly longer than usual lie in, ensuring they are well rested in time for the off after the final whistle. With this in mind, the team was split in two - those who woke early would do the shopping for the first lot of provisions, whilst those who lay in were to prepare sandwiches and load the ‘Wagon’ on return. Fair is fair as they say.

‘Dogs’ turned up in time to allow the others to neatly load all the baggage, tents and provisions. Once this was done, it was onward to the kitchen where pasta was on the hob and corned beef ready cut up, enabling the production of the sandwiches.

With everything and everyone ready to set off, we had the challenge of getting all walkers into the Wagon, whilst avoiding a possible avalanche of bags and food. Not only that, but we also had the small issue of ‘where to stick the flag pole’! Some might choose their words carefully here, by suggesting Yompa keep it to himself, as when the aforementioned 10ft tree emerged, we realised it may not fit in the wagon at all!

Kilmarnock FC had heard all about this years efforts as soon as the post SPL Split fixtures were announced. Welcoming us with open arms in the nearby Hotel, the troops set about watching the televised Rangers v Aberdeen match, whilst indulging in their choice of cold beverage - alcoholic and non.

One thing we made clear on this Highland March, was it was purely a promotion for Chumba’s Tartan March later in the year - what we were about to do in one week, Chumba and his gang (including Slater and Wumba) would be doing 3 fold! This, however, did not deter people from offering their donations and support, which were all gratefully received and much appreciated by all.

As is tradition now on any given March, we were allowed a lap of honour of the football pitch, in front of the crowds and onwards to our seats - and we were not to be disappointed this year either. With 2 pipers set up in the centre circle, each wearing either an Inverness or Kilmarnock shirt, we set off on our lap to raptures from both sets of fans. The mutual respect on show considering both teams needed a win to ensure their SPL survival. A defeat for either side, would take the relegation battle right down to the final day of the season.

The match itself wasn’t much of a spectacle for either set of fans. Only 14 shots on goal were shared between the two sides throughout the 90 minutes, with Kilmarnock taking the spoils thanks to a headed goal from Kevin Kyle.

Knowing now we were walking to a relegation decider against Falkirk on our arrival to Inverness, we somehow managed to ignore the football all together and made our start up the road from Rugby Park (Kilmarnock FC). Cue the introduction of the second planned overnighter of any given Highland March!

Cycle routes form a major part of the route this year, as we set off out of Kilmarnock along the cycle path of the old A77. Hugging the M77 all the way to Glasgow, we all set about entertaining each other in an effort to drown out the noise of the traffic.

Wee Finn (11), a real Yompa in the making, kept with the crowd for well over 10 miles, and even began jogging every so often - I’m certain some of the older crowd and even new recruits alike were in awe of the wee fella.

Continuing as one from the ‘Red House’ along the A77, we head into Newton Mearns from the South. As this area is ‘Yompa’ territory, his local knowledge sets us around the winding farm tracks just as dusk commences. Although Yompa was in sight, just, the only information we received from the Birmingham born Ayrshire resident, was to continue down Netherplace Road and under the M77. Just one problem - The track we are on takes 2 alternate directions, with both roads reading ‘Netherplace Road’ - Thank goodness we’d already seen Yompa turn the corner!

Newton Mearns sits on the Southern side of Glasgow and provides a decent view across the City landscape and out to our destination. The sun had all but set when we exit the village, and we soon see ‘Dogs’ for a top up of refreshments at Paterson Rail Station. Sarnie’s, Banana’s and a top up of cheapo energy drink allows us all to set off for the Clyde Tunnel slightly ahead of Schedule. All Marchers are still going for it, and even Slater’s partner Heather - who, incidentally, only decided to join the Marchers for a ‘wee while’ - kept a very good pace all the way through to midnight and beyond.

For the next jaunt, we continue along the pathways towards Pollock Park, but not without our first mishap of 2009! Dunco, previously admitting to a severe lack of training for this years’ event, took rest at a bus stop whilst waiting on Lady Madonna and Heather, who visited the petrol garage for a ‘pit stop’. Half the clan continued on their way once the girls caught up, but Dunco stayed slumped on the floor, unable to move. Fatigue had almost totally set in, proving that a lack of energy and training is just a recipe for potential disaster!

The whole scenario, however, was not without its moment of hilarity. 1am in a Glasgow street surely means there would either be fighting, public nudity and also drunken stupidity… well, 2 out of 3 isn’t bad! Whilst fuelling Dunco with fruit, glucose tablets and energy drink, we noticed a fully intoxicated Rangers supporter stumble across the road, unable to tell the difference between a Bus Lane and a footpath! Swaying from side to side, falling 3 steps back for every 4 forward, the man did eventually make his way home, no doubt passing the small crowd of men arguing and fighting in the next street. Only in Glasgow would you then see people leaning out their windows without a care in the world, glaring down at the scenes below.

Pollock Park is our next port of call as we slowly make our way towards the Clyde Tunnel, en route toward the West Highland Way. Head torches out of the bag here as the trees block out the moonlight. It’s not only the speed bumps we had to beware of, but Yompa once more. The Park houses the Strathclyde Police Dog Training facility - those who remember the traffic cone incident at Carrbridge on HM6 will know what’s coming next! Woof! Woof! Woof! - This man, who admittedly doesn’t like dogs, preceded to bark and rouse the interest of several police K9’s. Crazy fool!

Hilarity over, we soon cross over the M77 and into Bellahouston Park in an attempt to knock off half a mile of long boring pavement. It was in this park that the Pope John Paul II addressed Glasgow for a service in the 1980’s, during his tour of Scotland. Not many people know that!

Remember the saying ’If in doubt, check your Map‘? Well, scrap that comment here, as the maps we had did nothing in helping us find the pedestrian entrance to the Clyde Tunnel. Following the road signs positioned above the Motorway, we knew we were heading in the general direction we needed. The only problem was the pedestrian access and vehicle access points are separated by a good few hundred yards, with a housing estate separating the two.

Ill advised directions from a drunkard saw us double back on ourselves for half a mile (so much for Bellahouston Park short cut, hey!) only to find out from a local taxi driver that the pedestrian tunnels are locked, due to the spates of vandalism and crime that used to take place over the years. Thankfully for us though, the ‘gates’ are in fact electronically controlled by a security guard via an intercom system. After almost an hour of searching for the entrance, and discovering we are at least 2 hours behind schedule, the gates open and we are on our way once more. Good thing or bad, we’re not too sure, because although the rain started as we entered the tunnel, the stench of urine surrounding us was almost unbearable. Making haste, we get to the end of the tunnel just as the rain stops and to our delight, we exit to fresh air!

Before we’d even set off for this years Highland March, some of the more experienced troops were aware that the others may not have trained well enough to take on the overnight stage, let alone the full End-to-End. This, of course, signalled the first wager of the week, as bets were layed down not only for the first Marcher to fall, but the precise mileage in which it would take place - All in good humour, you understand!

Now, with Dunco’s earlier incident over and the man now going strong, Gringo Jnr decided against changing his ‘horse’ from his original choice of Wumba. Yompa had also backed the same ‘horse’, but the two stalwarts had still offered contrasting distances. 27 miles bid by Jnr, to Yompa’s 41. Either way, neither had backed their horse to last the course! Jnr 1, Yompa 0!

Coming into Milngavie and having put the first marcher safely on the Wagon, the sun starts to show its face just as the troops tuck into their pre-made pasta pots and indulge on Strawberry Laces and energy drink. The forever helpful Dogs was on hand to provide encouragement to the troops and ensure each and every marcher got off their wall perch, to commence their way along the southern section of the West Highland Way.

It is not just the Highland Marchers, it would seem, that have a fascination for traffic cones! In the heart of Milngavie Square, a Bronze Lady War Memorial Statue takes centre stage, paying tribute to those from the area who lost their lives during the first world war. Unfortunately, the bright yellow traffic cone, no doubt placed there by the youth of today, takes pride of place on the head of the Bronze Lady, taking the meaning away from the memorial. Let’s just be glad the Lady can’t bark like a dog, shall we?!

For the next 10 miles we join off-road track as the West Highland Way is our company until Gartness. The sun is well and truly up by now, and you certainly get a sense of mental toughness. Every Highland Marcher knows, that this is never purely a physical challenge, but on to test the mind. Dawn brings to light a brand new day, and thoughts flood through that we are only at the start of a brand new leg - all we have to do is complete the day!

Only 2 miles to Gartness, and already Yompa and Chumba take advantage of the sunlight to steam ahead of the chasing pack. Dogs was parked up in Dumgoyne, in clear sight of the Glengoyne Distillery. The pub was shut meaning breakfast was out the window, and the distillery was closed too, we had no other choice but to take advantage of the left over sarnies and continue on our way.

Lady Madonna, who has been training for the Tartan March as much as possible, put in a fantastic shift and called it a day just shy of the 40-mile marker. It was here also, that Heather decided enough was enough and climbed upon the wagon. Fair effort by both these girls, and they can hold their heads high knowing they’d done more than 10 miles extra in comparison to your average Highland March leg!

A danger amongst marchers is being ‘caught short’, although no-one ever usually remembers to bring the bog roll! What a god-send it was for Yompa, however, who had remembered and took refuge in the bushes, whilst Jnr escaped a near miss just a mile before Dogs’ rendezvous by grabbing Gringo’s packet of pocket Kleenex.

So, after a deserved rest and a change into some fresh socks, Yompa and Chumba set off on their way, closely followed by Jnr, and finally Dunco, Slater and Gringo. A blue line had drawn on to each Marchers map before setting off this year, yet this did not prevent some marchers getting lost by taking the wrong track. After a discussion about the plotted route whilst at the rendezvous, it was advised to follow the West Highland Way all the way to Garadhban Forest (near Dryman), rather than the farm track via Drumhead. It seems only Gringo Jnr took this advise, whilst all others followed the blue plotted route line - how ironic really, as it was Jnr who initially created the maps in the first place!

With the two advanced troops taking the original road, Jnr switching to the alternative, and Gringo & Slater at least a mile behind him, you can only imagine the confusion between them all after discovering Dunco had not been seen since the last stop-off. Gringo called Jnr who then called Yompa who was in turn trying to find out where Dogs was, whilst Jnr attempted to phone Dunco who had not been seen by Gringo. Not only this, but Yompa called Jnr to say Gringo was ready to stop, only after Dunco phoned Jnr to say he’d met up with Gringo and wanted to carry on. Jnr then called Yompa to clear the situation, and by the time Dogs called everyone back, Dunco had been found, Jnr was still on the alternative track and Yompa was planning an ambush where the two paths would meet. Throughout this, no-one had heard from Chumba….

Anyway, now that was all sorted, it was simply a case of Ambush! Perfect terrain. Perfect foliage. Perfect ambush!

Less than 10 miles to go now and fatigue starts to show its ugly head once more, Jnr eventually rejoined the original track, half an hour after Yompa and Chumba had passed the same spot. Knowing from the previous telephone conversations their exact location at the time, Jnr was certainly weary that an ambush could be imminent! On seeing a group of hikers take the same route just moments ahead of him, it would have been great to see the advanced pair ambush the wrong people! This wasn’t to be though, as a well placed decoy allowed for a successful ambush from the rear! Strategically placing his rucksack within a gorse bush, placing his shirt and hat on top, Yompa had created one of the best ambushes in March history - the only retaliation from Jnr coming in the form of a few choice phrases!

We’d now left the West Highland Way to continue our ascent over the hills and eventually down into Gartmore. We all thought the roads through Moy and Crieff were long and boring - you aint seen nothing yet.

Coming over the hill brow, a long straight road with trees on either side became our company for the next 4 miles, although it wasn’t without its moment of hilarity! With one successful ambush already in the bag for Yompa, he gained momentum on the decent whilst the other two were feeling the strain from the difficult ascent. After re-christening a passing place a ‘pissing place’, Yompa sped off round the corner and out of sight, raising suspicions once more from more ambushes! The lads were not to be disappointed.

Trees stretched the length of the road on either side, with only a passing place and a brick wall the only other company. Hanging back, staying low and keeping quiet, Chumba stepped up to the plate in an effort to prevent the inevitable. Hanging from the branches, were carefully placed lengths of toilet tissue, following the line of a deer track in and around the trees. Ducking behind a lonely tree near to the tight path, the advancing duo took it slow and steady… could they thwart the obvious? Cue childish shooting noises, as Jnr went in ‘all guns blazing’ thinking he spotted the old man in the trees. Unfortunately, he had been deceived by yet another length of toilet tissue!

Back behind the tree it was for the tiring troops, as Yompa had still not been officially felled! Plotting and planning, what were these guys to do next? Suddenly, Yompa appeared from the undergrowth to shoot aimlessly at thin air, and whilst still capturing the moment on video, out jumped Jnr and Chumba to thwart ambush number 2 within just 1 mile!

Inverness Caley Thistle fans don’t just reside in the Highlands, but also further afield. ‘Algy’, a former Rangers fan now converted, was in contact with the troops as they approached Gartmore - a small village 3 miles away from the finish point of the day. Welcoming the three forwarding lads into the village, Algy walked with the lads until they arrived to a full Sunday Lunch and a pint of their choice, courtesy of the Coach House Inn staff and the Aberfoyle Inverness CT Supporters Club. A splendid and most welcome gesture indeed.

Safely inside and tucking into their scoff, it soon dawned on the trio that Slater and Dunco had not updated their location, whilst by now finding out Gringo called it a day at 41 miles - once again, praise for a good effort goes to Gringo on a job well done, as this day is the completion of his longest ever Highland March leg - well done that man!

The only task for all troops, now everyone has finished the day, was to finish up the food a drink, take the customary photograph, and head out to the digs. Unfortunately, for the first time on any given March to date, ‘End-to-Ender’ Wumba decided his walk week was over before it had truly begun. Joining those on the wagon for their trips home, Wumba headed back to Inverness without a second though. A sad day for the Highland March, as the realisation sinks in that some people don’t realise that this isn’t just ‘A walk’!

Chumba, Slater, Dunco, Yompa and Gringo Jnr all finished the overnight stage of 51 miles, in just less than 24 hours, meaning all the remaining troops can rest in piece knowing they put in a fantastic shift!

Day 2

The weather for the week was due to be a mixture of sunshine and showers, and we were not to be disappointed. Finishing the overnight stage in sunshine the day before, we suffered some light showers over night and folded down our tents in pouring rain. Waterproofs clearly needed today!

Slater had borrowed Wumba’s pop-up tent for the night, and although it does work to its namesake, it’s a right bugger to fold back down again. Raising a laugh and making light of the situation, Gringo Jnr - who had yet another birthday during a Highland March on Sunday - woke wearing a granddad’s set of striped pyjamas and a grey haired wig complete with bald patch, and proceeded to roam around the campsite as though he was 75, not 25!

Breakfast was a ‘help yourself to what you want’ affair, and this is exactly what we did. Again avoiding porridge oats due to the time it takes to clean the pan, we settled for cornflakes and wheat-a-bix before loading the wagon with gear. The plan for the day was to reach Killin on the western banks of Loch Tay, and a visit to the Loch Tay Highland Lodges for a 2 night camp out. Firstly though, we were to negotiate our way up a steep ascent into Queen Elizabeth Forest and off-road to Brig’o’Turk.

The road twists and turns steeply for little over a mile, before we begin a very gradual decent.

Cycle Route 7 between Aberfoyle and Brig O Turk is approximately 6 miles, although we managed to knock 2 miles off by heading through Dukes Pass instead, with the intention of following a track not far from the view point.. Confusion hit the troops here as Forest Drive was well sign posted, but was it the track we needed?

Maps out here by all as we tried to make head and tail of our exact location. Realising we had still another mile till our planned track left the road side, we plodded along in the rain bang on schedule. On a sharp left hand bend, we see Dogs parked up in the lay-by, yet notice on our maps that our path was due to head off prior to getting to the wagon. Confirming our location with Dogs, Jnr and Gringo tracked back to see if they could see the route we should have taken. Deciding that the terrain was too boggy, along a path that didn’t show up too well in the foliage, we all agreed to head a further half mile down the Dukes Pass and take a 4x4 track along side Loch Achray.

Although each Marchers’ map showed the blue route line, Yompa had not been seen since half way up the ascent from Aberfoyle. He had not passed Dogs in his wagon, nor radioed in to seek advice or direction. Knowing how much he enjoys a challenge, as well as keeping up a decent pace, it was judged that Yompa may have ran off down the track we had seen prior and would perhaps already be in Brig O Turk. Only time would tell if we were right!

The whole day was to provide some excellent scenery, starting off with the sights of Loch Achray. The hills around the loch were stunning despite the cloud cover, whilst the breeze provided decent ripples on the surface of the water, thus the occasional ‘photo opportunity‘. All along this secluded shale track, a cuckoo was heard singing its tunes. ‘Cuc-koo; cuc-koo; cuc-koo’, along with the mandatory pause between each tweet... now the first ever ‘Cuckoo Chanter Competition’ had begun – staring Gringo! Exhanging ‘cuckoo’s with winged beast, the cuckoo in turn sang back for as long as it took us to reach Brig O Turk. That was, at least, until Gringo let out one final ‘koo’, leaving out the ‘cuc’. Back of the net; as the new found feathered friend failed to retaliate with so much as a ‘koo’ – 1-0 to the Midland Amigo.

We come across the wooded landscape around Brig O Turk before we climb once more. This time up the slopes, en route to Balquhidder. Glen Finglas Reservoir is our company for the first couple of miles, before the tarmac peters out into 4x4 shale and onwards to Glen Buckie. The weather decided to rest up for a small while, yet despite the clouds surrounding us, the temperature began to sore.

Half a mile before we reach the end of the reservoir, the track we need shoots right and is clearly marked by a boulder stating ’Pathway to Balquhidder’. Although the troops were well separated by this point, each marcher found their way and headed off on the right track. Result!

When planning the route or this years Highland March, not much out-and-about research was conducted at the southern end of the route - in particular, the stretch from Glen Finglas Reservoir to Killin. The advanced computer software that was used to plot the route, operates a 3D-vision option, as well as a ’Fly-Through’ devise that lets you see just how much the route raises and lowers. All very well and good it may sound, but all that goes out the window when the slopes are unforgiving and constant.

The foursome had split further apart. Junior had stepped up his pace and was some distance in front of Dunco, ahead of Gringo and Slater who began to separate at the back.

This section felt like it went on forever. Up and down, up and down, then up and down a bit more for around 3 miles solid. The Gods were forever changing their minds as to whether we got soaked or cooked, and even a stop and a bite to eat at the top didn’t liven the troops up too much.

Deciding not to rest for too long; in order to prevent our legs from seizing, we packed away our lunch sharp-ish and headed away from the 4x4 track en route to Balquhidder. The trail here was easy to loose, but with the troops wisely keeping together, things became a lot easier. Moral in general took a sharp boost, as the banter we had all missed for a while, had quickly returned.

Gringo has previously kept to the more sensible option in all previous marches, by sticking to tarmac and designated walkways and paths. This year, however, he was to have no choice but to yomp it across the bogs and our meet up with Dogs at the Kinghouse Hotel. Perhaps though, there was an incentive to grab a Broth and Haggis late-lunch, as mentioned by Dogs in a prior text message to each of the troops.

Gringo kept up with the group well before finding a rock that clearly didn’t want to be messed with. After falling flat on the ground, he picked himself up, brushed himself off and was devastated to learn he’d bent his pole. One of a pair containing a shock absorber for just such an occurrence!

All joking aside, we set off on our gradual decent, crossing the occasional brook or stream, when suddenly ‘errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, errrrrrrrrrrrrrrr - I just got you ya ********’! Yompa - the silly old fool - had managed to get himself lost after all. Not once, but twice!

Only a couple of miles into the day, Yompa had already taken the wrong track as was predicted earlier by the group. Following most of Cycle Route 7 through the foliage, and with the good old GPS to hand, he eventually made it to Brig O’Turk half an hour after Gringo, Slater, Dunco and Junior had left along Glen Finglas. Yompa continued his story of events to the team, whilst trying to drown out the sound of laughter.

‘I got to the turn off and saw this bloke, and I thought it was Slater. I saw the sign for Balquhidder going to other way and though he’d got lost so I went after him. I got half a mile or more down the path before realising it wasn’t Slater after all, so I turned back!’

We all took great pleasure in teasing the man who had so famously stated we should check our maps on previous outing, for not paying heed to his own choice words.

Now we were a group again, we had the small matter of a meeting with Dogs, and at least 10 miles after that until we reached Killin. We had to get a move on.

The weather over the days prior to our jaunt was wet and miserable, and although there were spells of sunshine on the day itself, it did little to evaporate the water that was cascading down the hill sides. Sloshing through the bogs, we take a sharp right corner to send us East and out onto tarmac, yet not before negotiating yet more mountain streams, deep peat bogs and another mishap for Yompa!

On the final decent off the hillside, we all followed Yompa in the direction required, and ultimately fell about laughing. Having already caped his boots in mud, as well as being wet from the days rainy intervals, he stepped upon a slippery rock and unceremoniously pirouetted in mid-air before landing on his derriere. Refusing assistance from junior, he got up, mentioned he’d just got a wet arse, about turned and carried on - what a moment, what a day!

Tarmac becomes our company for the remaining miles today, as we begin to again separate. Slater was struggling with bad blisters and Gringo had been mentally challenged after 2 falls moments over the top. Dunco had found his feet and kept up well with Yompa, whilst Jnr began to walk in bursts after needing to stop every half mile for a wee!

On coming into Balquhidder, the rear-guard are soon ambushed in the most unusual fashion - by Yompa once more, who is firing his machine gun from his table in a small Library Tea Room. All this ambushing despite the experienced Marcher continuously wearing his bright yellow fluorescent bonnet!

All the troops made a b-line for the tea room and some much needed refreshment (only £1.50 for a can of fanta, Bargin!) and an energy boost - Jnr, however, saw it feasible to excrete now so as to avoid a repeat of his 20-mile pain to Kenmore only a year ago. Exiting the lavatory with a grin on his face, he felt it only right to purchase a couple of items from the café before making a sharp exit to continue on his way. You can only invisage the scenes now as one big group of Highland Marchers follows Jnr out the door for only one reason. Disgusting I tell you!

Yompa picked up his pace here and soon caught Jnr up front to explain his ‘submersible’ had been well and truly demolished by his ‘yellow jet stream’ after seeing it jammed in the ‘cavern of the underwater cave’.

Ahem… anyway… back to the March!

Ahead of us we could see the main road, which could only mean three things - civilisation, Dogsbody and, of course, our Broth and Haggis lunch. We were, however, to be rather disappointed.

Upon receiving Dogs’ message of lunch, and with the weather consistently changing its mind, a nice hot lunch was just what would have been required. We ended up scoffing sarnies from the bus though, when it was in fact what Dogs had already had whilst we all endured plenty off-road tracks for most of the day. The Git!

Now 3pm, it was probably a good idea in hindsight, to get moving again to allow us enough daylight to pitch tents on our arrival at the Loch Tay Lodges. Some of the troops changed footwear, whilst others sought out a fresh pair of socks, before again setting off to Killin.

Julia Bradbury, a BBC TV presenter, had previously done a 6-part documentary on walking along some of Britain’s disused railways. Ultimately, the program was called, Railway Walks! The final part in the series saw Miss Bradbury walk 23 miles from Callender to Killin - a walk she described as ‘unique’ with ‘gorgeous scenery’ and ‘superb views of Loch Earn’ - we were finally not going to be disappointed!

Following Cycle Route 7 once again, we find ourselves surprised to be climbing out from Craggan when we fork left at the former junction along the old Caledonian Railway. Gringo took great enjoyment out of this section, as being a railway man, he was astounded to see so many remaining features of railway life - all the way from the original fence posts and telegraph pole, to the viaduct and bridges that traverse along the steep sides of Glen Ogle.

Yompa had already received multiple ‘getting lost’ badges, as well as his ‘Spectacular fall into a huge puddle of muddy water’ badge, and now it was time for his ‘Parallel Bars’ badge. Straddling across the cattle grid below him, he swung aimlessly for a few short seconds; just enough time for a ‘photo opportunity’ - Gringo Jnr, ultimately gained his also!

We quickly enter into our final 4 miles of the day and a decent into Killin. Laden with trees and feeling tired from the days activities, all the troops wanted to do was get to the end and tuck into some much needed food. Jnr; who has previously ran the final couple of miles on a few occasions, felt getting the day done was best done by doing just that - running!

Taking yet another time out to water the daisy’s, he tightened the straps on his bag and jogged on in order to catch Dunco and Gringo. No stopping now, he carried on gently past the two and finally out of their sight. Next it was Slaters’ turn to be overtaken, although not without a look of bemusement on his face! Finally, there was Yompa. Stuck out front on his own for the last couple of miles, Jnr had caught up with him and attempted to make it all the way to Killin.

The route is still following the former Railway line, and you can clearly see where the track bed was cut out of the forestry and rocky hill side. Rather overgrown now, this would be ideal ambush territory should anyone wish to attempt it! Unfortunately for Jnr, someone did; or should that be something? A young Deer perhaps? On running down through the final mile, a deer of which was drinking from a nearby stream, was obviously spooked by juniors running and leapt out from behind a tree. Needless to say, Jnr tried to shoot back at the deer (in form of a photograph), yet his attempts were thwarted!

Dogs had parked up on the Northern bank of River Dochart, waiting for the troops to finish their day. Junior eventually walked in with Yompa after the latter had caught up since the deer ambush, and the other guys were a short while behind. Everyone had finished the day with little complaint, although they did all seem totally drained of energy and ready for rest!

2 of the troops - Yompa and Junior - reached a huge milestone on getting to Killin. Despite Yompa taking a direct route on Highland March 4, he had caught up the miles between events to gain another promotion in Highland March Rank. Arise Brigadier Yompa, and Brigadier Junior - 1000 Highland March Miles Complete!

All aboard the Wagon for the trip to our accommodation and the re-visit of Loch Tay Highland Lodges. The A827 is known for being busy during rush hour, and as this would be our route on day 3 (Tuesday) concerns were raised as to how safe the route would be in the morning. Looking at the map on our arrival, we discovered the railway track bed continues for a further 2 miles to the Killin Power Station, and thus cuts out 2 of the 5 miles we were set to endure. Bonus!

The banter was always going to be sparse this year, as the group were split at night due to some marchers wanting to camp. Yompa and Junior had purchased identical tents, whilst Dunco purchased something slightly more complicated to erect. Instead of having 3 poles and a canvas, his tent needed to be built into some sort of skeletal sculpture, before 2 canvas sheets could be attached. Thank goodness we were here for 2 nights and not in need to the tents from night 4 onwards!

Some of the Marchers had not had the opportunity to shower since leaving their own homes on Friday afternoon - it was now Monday night and here was their chance. Whilst Dogs set about sorting the dinner out for the tired and weary, some headed for the showers whereas others decided on clean clothes and a hot cuppa coffee. Baked beans and Sausage with a dollop of mash might not sound luxurious, but it was a superb way to end and eventful, tiring and difficult day.

Day 3

One thing that was mentioned during the route planning stage was the miles we had to cover at the start of the week. Knowing the overnight jaunt was over 50 miles, followed by the 30 miles on Monday, Gringo Junior stated his prediction that this day was to be the ‘make or break of every Marcher‘. If they had made it this far and completed today, then the mental boost they would get would almost certainly see them to the success of an End-to-End.

We’d set off as discussed via the railway track bed, rather than the road, to the Power station. After Yompa stopped to collect 26 pence that he found in the middle of the path, we negotiated through someone’s garden, past the side of the power station and up to the road itself. If this terrain was anything to go by, then 35 miles might not be too bad today!

The A827 was our company for 3 miles, until we pass the entrance to the Loch Tay Lodges and head left for yet another steep ascent, but not before Jnr shoots down the hill to his tent to grab the Vaseline.

Every Highland Marcher understands how uncomfortable it can be to walk with severe chaffing, so it was agreed to await Jnr from the lodges to continue walking the busy stretch in unison - It’s a health and safety thing on these busy roads!

Gringo had earlier decided he would not risk the busy road section of this route, and started his day at the bottom of the hill. Yompa, in turn, didn’t fancy holding back for Jnr too long, and ultimately went after Gringo, leaving Slater and Dunco behind.

Back on the road we carry on our way towards the Mountain Rescue Post where Yompa was due to reach his 1000th Highland March Mile. Due to his inadvertent diversions (caused by getting himself bloomin lost I might add) he had already reached this milestone at the end of Day 2. The two older members of the group were now well ahead as the youngsters pick up pace and take a steady pace up the ascent. This road would carry us for around 10 miles to Bridge of Balgie and along some absolutely gorgeous landscape. Emerging at the Mountain Rescue Post, we had only a few hundred yards before our gradual decent would commence, starting at the dam at the southern edge of Lochan na Lairige.

The Loch was simply superb to look at. Surrounding the rear-guard troops was a big curtain of mist and rain, yet in their immediate vicinity, the sun had broken through resulting in the discarding of rain jackets and leggings. The water was rippling nicely as the breeze came down the valley, yet with over a mile of road in view ahead there was no sign of the two advanced ‘pensioners’. Not only that, but Dunco had started to fall off the pace at the rear of the pack and the troops were now well and truly spread out.

It’s one thing to enjoy the peace and tranquillity that is the Scottish wilderness, but there is only so much you can take when out on your own. Despite Jnr’s scare at Kenmore on HM6, he had brought his MP3 player for just such a circumstance yet there was just one problem - no batteries! Unable to tolerate the silence much longer, he soon allowed Slater to catch up and the pair made there way merrily down towards Bridge of Balgie, ensuring they looked back every few hundred yards to make sure Dunco wasn’t too far behind.

There really was a distinct lack of ambushes in the earlier stages of this 7th Highland March, and the opportunities missed were very regular indeed. The gorse bushes, rocky embankments and forestry that had surrounded us today posed lots of potential, yet with the troops so widely spread out there was no point in hanging around.

Lunch time came at Bridge of Balgie, and it was here that Jnr’s earlier prediction was to become clear for 1 member of the group. Despite hanging back for 10 minutes at the bridge itself, there was no sign of Dunco. Deciding they should advance slowly, they ultimately came across a small coffee shop and decided to wait there for a further 10 minutes. Again no sign, and after a sandwich and tin of pop, they agree to head off slowly to the start of their next off-road track at Innerwick.

Over 30 minutes had passed in total and it was agreed that in order to get to Dalnacardoch as planned by night fall, these two could not hang back any longer. Dunco had called it a day - the first time in his Highland March attempts that he had done so. Perhaps his choice of energy drink and no food was his downfall here?

Only 1 sign points the way to Carie and Kinloch Rannock, where the advancing troops were next due to meet Dogs and the wagon. Gringo had struggled with his dodgy heel today and the first ascent couldn’t have done him much good. Company came forth though in the form of Yompa who had earlier caught up, and after ensuring Gringo was ok and over the terrain of the Lairig Ghallabhaich, he continued at pace towards Dalnacardoch and the end of his day. Slater and Jnr, however, had to make a calculated guess as to the direction they take, as just 50 yards from the paths start, the track forks in two without signage as to the direction to take - good job they had their maps!

Untried terrain here prompted Slater to state his thoughts on this years Highland March, as within this wilderness he stated ‘now this is what I imagined Highland Marches to be like’. He was of course comparing this years off-road stretches to the tarmac route of his first event on HM6.

Caped in mud past their ankles, the duo continue to chat away and end up coming up with various songs that would be ideal for any given Highland March. Many suggestions came forth and some were ultimately based around the now classic comment from new recruit Wumba that Highland Marching is ‘Just a Walk’.

Songs to the tune of ‘When the Saints go Marching In’ and ‘Teddy Bears Picnic’ surfaced, but it was clear to see some fine tuning and agreement on lyrics was needed. That’s their afternoon sorted then!

Despite wanting to call it quits at Bridge of Balgie, Gringo had made it as far as Carie and was delighted with his personal effort. His heel had got the better of him, and the final 14 miles to Dalnacardoch seemed too much if he was to start his favourite leg along Glen Tromie tomorrow. Sitting in the wagon, he and Dogs were receiving calls from Dunco to be collected back at Bridge of Balgie, yet they wouldn’t head off until Slater and Jnr had emerged from the Rannoch Forest.

“Yompa created Highland March, Hoorah, Hoorah. The Gringos were next to join the lark, Hoorah, Hoorah. Chumba, Slater, Dunco too, the General who looks after the crew. Not forgetting Wumba, do do, do do, do do” - to the tune of The Great Escape, Slater and Jnr had succeeded in composing the new Highland March Anthem.

A quick break and it was along the southern bank of Loch Rannoch for 3 miles that just didn’t want to end. The road twists in and out of the trees, teasing you constantly with views of Kinloch Rannoch - Memories of past boring roads such as those into Crieff come flooding in.

It was 5pm by now, Dunco was still to be picked up by Dogs and Yompa was closing in on Dalnacardoch. In order for the remaining troops to make it to the planned rendezvous at the start of Glen Tromie, they would have to step up the pace somewhat, but knowing there was still an hour’s drive at the end of the day this just wasn’t going to be possible - not if we were to get suitable rest and our planned barbeque dinner. Trinafour was now to be the finishing post for Slater and Jnr, leaving them the additional 4 miles to Dalnacardoch before starting the 23 mile off-road track along Glen Tromie on Day 4.

The lads made it to Kinloch Rannock under the shadow of the Highland Marchers favourite pimple - Scheihallion. The public loo’s were shut, so it was across to the local hotel to once again off-load unwanted excess. This was to prove costly for the twosome though, as coming into the town they had an urge for a sugar rush and juice from the nearby shops. This place closes at 1800hrs Monday to Saturday - they arrived at 1806 due to their lengthy pit-stop - D’oh!

With these two the only ones left to finish the day, they were to tackle the B846 along the North bank of Dunalastair Water, then hang a left on the B847 towards Trinafour. Once again the route sees them climbing gradually, and with the sun just about ready to set, they brought out all their reserves to reach Trinafour in good time - not only that, but they were welcomed to the sleepy village by an RAF flyover or two. (Actually the RAF uses these glens to practice ‘dog-fights’ in the skies, but it was good to have that wee thought for a moment of two)

Dunco had been dropped back to the Lodges once he’d been rescued, yet this did not stop Jnr and Slater once again sharing their composition skills with another rendition of “Yompa created the Highland March, Hoorah, Hoorah”! This, ultimately, was the cue for all other troops to come up with a verse of their own to symbolise what we’re all about - and of course to give Dogs something to do on Tromie Day.

Almost an Hour of driving sees us all together again and the opportunity to sort out the many aches, pains and blisters that had by now come into their prime. Gringo was concerned about how his heel would fare along Tromie; Dunco seemed totally gutted about calling it a day; Yompa checked out the weather for Day 4 whilst the remaining troops assisted with the barbeque as well as plotting an alternative finish to tomorrow rather than Ruthven Barracks.

Night 2 at Loch Tay Lodges, and the final night for camping. A tough day had finished with everyone on this years event knowing they had covered over half of this years walk in just 3 stages! Excellent!

Day 4

As with any start to any day, we find ourselves scrambling around the kitchen area for a spoon and bowl, ready for some breakfast. Accompany that with a cup of tea and all that’s left to do is clean up and make sure the feet are ready to go.

Having been awake before everyone else, Yompa was already on the case with his feet just as Jnr was slurping on a fresh cup of tea. After cutting open his blister and squirting the juice all over the table, he proceeded to gas the clan out with a well timed dawn chorus. Well timed enough that Jnr sprayed his tea everywhere through laughing, just as the vibrations of Yompa’s solo chorus rattled the surrounding furniture.

We see ourselves once again planning to head along Glen Tromie, although this year there were a few slight differences. Firstly, not all the troops would attempt this stage, as Gringo’s growing concerns about his heel saw him follow Cycle Route 7 with many opportunities to bail out should the need arise. Secondly, the troops would be separated all day as Yompa and Dunco set off before the rest, due to Slater and Jnr’s short-fall at Trinafour the night prior. And finally, the aforementioned pair would start from Trinafour and not the usual setting of Dalnacardoch Lodge. Hell, we didn’t even manage any ambushes here either - shocking!

Glen Tromie had an A9 feel to it, as on exiting the trees only 1 mile in, diggers and heavy machinery are hard at work on a new house, meaning 4x4’s and other vehicles would pass us every so often.

The weather had caused concern in the days leading up to this stage, as knowing how high the rivers can be after a ‘heat-wave’, the rainfall we had received in the days prior could only mean even higher rivers, and stronger currents.

We continued along the track, as you do, to be stopped by one of the workers, who wanted to offer as a lift across the waters as one of the crossings had now collapsed due to the heavy rain. How would you feel if you had walked all the way from Kilmarnock to Inverness, knowing you didn’t complete it for the sake of 10ft? Well, that’s what we thought too, so each of the 4 troops declined the offer, and negotiated their way onwards towards Loch An Duin. Now, what was that spiel about the ‘land of the 5 dry rivers’?

Slater had begun to suffer badly with his blisters, whereas Jnr’s aches had suddenly vanished, and he was now increasing the distance between them. Gringo was using his walking pole as some sort of make-shift guitar whilst listening to his music - prompting strange looks from passers by not only on the trains, by all along the A9 also.

So many times in the past have the troops advanced to strike an ambush further down the track, yet today was to be an exception. This really wasn’t a normal Highland March day along the Glen’s, but a mere walk to get us to the end of the day. Not only were we all separated, but there was to be no mobile signals for most of the route, and therefore no contact between the 3 separate groups, or indeed, Dogsbody in the Wagon.

Confident of gaining ground on Yompa and Dunco, the trailing duo kept their heads down and kept moving, chanting the now addictive tune they had created just yesterday - with a few alternative words and verses thrown in every so often.

Lunch usually comes upon crossing the final river before we get to Gaick Lodge, although again, this was to be no communal affair. Negotiating the river proved to be a challenge as every seemingly shallow crossing was deeper than expected. No-one had spare changes of shoes, so keeping the footwear dry was a must. This, of course, wasn’t a problem for Yompa, who wore his brand new waterproof socks today and simply ploughed through every crossing that had previously crossed his path. Yompa 5, Mother Nature 0!

Not usually one to cower from river crossings himself, Jnr was this year wearing a cross trainer rather than his usual choice of water-tight hiking boot. Traversing the collapsed embankments further upstream, he came unstuck on the central stone island as every access point seemed to lead to certain soaking - except on.

On calculating his route to the precise pebble, and seeing Slater on the other side having already found his way, Jnr simply ran on water. The first rock had given way underneath him, and without a second thought shouted ‘**** it’ and ran across the water to the other side. This crossing was the worst we had seen on any Highland March to date - along Tromie at least!

An addition to the Highland March made an appearance this year in the form of a cup of tea. Jnr provided such a delight on finding shelter from the wind in the shape of a gorge, obviously from some sort of minor land-slip. Pasta pots and yesterdays left over sandwiches, not to forget the Tunnocks Caramel Wafer and the rear-guard were up and off once more.

Still without a mobile signal, there was no way of knowing how all else were getting on. Just so happens, Gringo had made it 13 miles to Dalwhinnie before calling it a day - again due to his bad heel. Still Dunco and Yompa were nowhere in sight of Slater and Jnr, and the wind was now becoming strong and cold along the valley to Bhran Cottage.

Around 7 miles now of tarmac and more familiar surroundings as Lynaberack Lodge comes into view. A rare sight of deer grazing next to a cottage ruins provides some extra tranquillity, as suddenly the mobile phones ring out - finally we have signal.

The initial plan for the day was to come off the tarmac at Glentromie Lodge, and take a yomp through the woods, and finish the day at Ruthven Barracks. The new plan was now to finish at the usual place of Tromie Bridge. The rear-guard had now heard word that once again, everyone was waiting on them to arrive before a photo-shoot for Reuters Media could commence up at the Barracks themselves. Gringo took on a short hike to Killihuntly to meet Slater and Jnr as they came over the brow. Even more renditions of “Yompa created Highland March” commence with Gringo the conductor. High spirits within camp as it hits home that we are just 2 days away from being in Inverness in record time, on the longest, mentally and physically most difficult event to date!

All aboard the Wagon and forward to Ruthven Barracks for our photo-shoot. Reuters, a big media firm who specialise in seeking out the next best thing, heard of our efforts via a radio station program somewhere in central England. They then sent up a local photographer to meet and greet us, and were later to send a reporter to us to find out just how crazy we really are!

After walking around a field and taking on another onslaught of the Barracks - as is becoming a HM tradition - we set off for the first of 2 nights at the ever entertaining Carrbridge Bunkhouse. As we’d have to pass through Avimore en route, we agreed as a group to have a take-away fish supper and load the wagon with beer, ready for a night of utter relaxation and the first real night of total banter. No traffic cones here, but as we all tuck into our fish supper’s, the bunkhouse owners west highland whites emerge to sniff out the odd fallen scraps. Upon sniffing under the kilt of Slater, Yompa proceeded to bark loudly to the two pups, only for them to ‘yap’ back and continue to scrounge food. The dogs only departed, once Yompa resumed the trademark frog treading proceedings!

Jnr’s laptop put in an appearance to provide the troops with their first experiences of the HM7 CD; consisting of songs appropriate to a Highland March such as “Marching through the Glen” and Bob Dylan‘s “Like a Rolling Stone”.

Last year at this residence, Chumba was to receive a surprise in the showers. No, it wasn’t Dunco, but a pan of cold water unceremoniously dumped on him from on high. Not a nice thing really! It seems, however, that this is another part of Highland March banter that is soon to become tradition, as it was now Yompa’s turn to feel the freeze.

Day 5

It’s amazing how people get lost, even when they have done these routes so many times during Highland March events, as well as training days. Even good old GPS doesn’t assist without the aid of a map and so it was to prove later on this day.

With a second night here tonight, there was no loading of food and luggage today, so we just loaded ourselves and set off for Tromie Bridge and the start of day 5. A short day for all today and one that would see everyone together since the overnight stage from Kilmarnock. Well, almost.

The B970 is our company all the way to Kincraig, and as we had planned to head over the hills through Kinveachy Forest, we knew we’d have to be there in good time to avoid the rain that was ultimately heading our way - it always has during this years event, so why was today to be different?

We head into Kincraig separated by a couple of hundred yards a piece, and hear news that the local shop sells bacon butties - oh yes! Just what the doctor ordered. Our only problem was the doctor was non-existent, just like his bacon butties. We had to make do with a barely warm sausage roll and a mars bar, washed down with a bottle of Irn-Bru.

Sitting outside the shop, Dunco, Gringo and Jnr sit and rest up for a while wondering where Slater and Yompa had already vanished to. A quick phone call later and we were on our way, yet not before becoming Kincraig’s official met office. Pulling into the road-side outside the shop was a gent and his wife in their clapped out car - a vehicle that had in fact been tuned into radio. Apparently, 3 men walking in the middle of nowhere have more understanding of the weather than the live radio broadcasts. And we thought we were clueless!

For the first time today we find ourselves off-road in an attempt to cut out a few dangerous miles along the B9152 only to come under fire from a couple of hooligans hiding in the trees. Knowing the exact location of Brigadier Jnr and his terrible twosome, Slater and Yompa proceeded to pelt the trio with grenades (pine cones) and fire their machine guns (a walking pole and tree branch) for a successful and somewhat surprising ambush.

Loch Alvie, the old Speyside Horn shop and the old A9 make a long awaited return to the Highland March now, as the troops advance into Aviemore and their first meeting with Dogs. The amigos Gringo had fallen behind due to Gringo’s heel pain and Jnr’s bladder control, whilst the others set off for the local shops for a bite of lunch. Despite changing socks every day, Jnr was also finding it hard going on the feet as he resorted to Sports socks, rather than his trusted combination of Bridgedale Liner socks and Trekker Heavyweights. Into the local mountaineering shop, he purchased some more and felt ready to take on the rest of the day.

Dogs was once again on hand to provide much needed refreshments for the troops, with yet more energy drinks and snacks on the wagon for the troops to refuel.

Anyone who knows Highland March, will know that any trip along the Speyside way will bring many an opportunity for ambush, and again, there was to be much disappointment. Jnr was clearly off the pace with ambushes this year and hadn’t yet recorded one single successful ambush. Slater and Dunco were still relatively new to this lark despite Slaters earlier attack at Kincraig, and Gringo just wanted to get to the end of day stop at Slochd summit. Yompa had by now left the group with the promise of the ultimate ambush, leaving the remaining clan to plot their thwarting tactics. Jnr ran ahead to the local newsagent where ammunition and even weaponry has been purchased before, yet came out empty handed. Spirits were high now as we head through Dalfabar Industrial Estate and out along the Speyside Way - we even got a great glimpse of the Steam Train making its way south from Grantown on Spey.

Yompa had not been sighted since our lunch break some 4 miles ago, and Jnr began to come up with possibilities as to where the senior trooper could strike his planned ambush. Concluding that somewhere near Loch Vaa would be ideal, the troops proceed as normal towards Kinveachy and our turn off along General Wades Military road. Jnr was right in thinking Yompa may strike from the opposite direction at Dalnacardoch during HM6, and was so close in predicting Yompa’s whereabouts once more. Leaving the trees around Loch Vaa behind, we head off towards our turn off, only to see Yompa walking the roadside behind us. On eventually catching us up, he admits that he had; not for the first time this year, got himself lost. No ambush this time for the entire route so far.

Staggering off in some random-style walk, Yompa leaves the rest behind as they rest up with a snack, and sets off up under the railway and over the A9, out towards Sluggan Bridge. This already used route was taken as an alternative to the planned route over Kinveachy Forest. The weather was due to turn nasty with torrential rain forecast, and the last thing any walker wants is to be lost on the summit of a hill with no sense of direction - we therefore lengthened our day by at least 3 miles to de-tour around the hillside.

Jnr kept his map close by during this section knowing it was here only a year ago that he accidentally got everyone lost on more than one occasion. It was to prove a valuable piece of kit as Dunco, once again, started to drift at the back of the pack. Ankle pains, blisters and sore limbs a cause for concern.

Gringo seemed to find a new lease of life after a snack break and kept the pace well with Jnr and Slater at the front of the pack. More general chit chat about random ideas resume as this long track sweeps through the forestry. The bright orange fencing lining the western sides did nothing but ruin the landscape, and the tree felling that had taken place over the last couple of years, make this section more industrial rather than natural. Even so, we plod along nicely, expecting an ambush soon from the ever advanced Yompa.

The exit of the woodland is a long and tree-lined track for the best part of a mile, and does little to enhance the imagination, although it is a great place to do a bit of bird-watching. The green huts in the surrounding area are evidence of this. Thinking that Yompa may be in one of these ready to strike, the troops even have thoughts that he may well of climbed a tree to gain a better vantage point - well, lets face it, we couldn’t put it past him!

Climbing the style at the end of this track, all that was left was a small decent over Sluggan Bridge and once again climbing our way to Slochd summit and the end of play today. Looking back, however, we come across another surprise, as behind a bird-watcher we had previously seen in the undergrowth was Yompa - Once again, for the third time today, he found himself lost once more. Much hilarity commences as the troops tease him over his comments of “If in doubt, check your map”!

Dogs had been waiting at the road summit at Slochd for a while now, and it wouldn’t be long before the first of the troops arrived at the rendezvous. Yompa had again sped on in typical fashion to make it in good time, leaving the rear-guard to pummel the remaining watch huts with stones, thinking that an ambush may be imminent. Jnr was next to arrive closely followed by Dunco and Slater, and Gringo had now fallen well off the pace, yet appeared at the wagon in high spirits after completing his second full day of the week proud in the knowledge he‘d covered in excess of 120 miles in that time.

163 miles completed since Kilmarnock for 3 of the troops and end to enders was on the cards. 1 more day would see everyone into Inverness, leaving just 2 miles on the final day for the onslaught of Tulloch Caledonian Stadium. It was only now we realised that we were walking to a relegation decider with Falkirk. A must not loose game for Inverness CT.

HM’s female stalwart Mrs Gringo joined the group tonight, and was waiting for the marchers to arrive along with Yompa’s Jnr and Minor. All three of whom have experienced Highland March before at varying distances. Yompa Minor had already completed some miles at the start of the week, and was eager to get going on the final stage. Darts, beer, barbeque and more HM7 CD saw the troops relax in style, and we were even pleased to indulge in some whisky, yet no giant jenga or bows and arrows in the dorms. There was, however, an alternative to the entertainment schedule, as yet more renditions of the now infamous song were heard, as well as ideas for new ranks and even a brand new imperial measurement! Taking on the good humour of the wager on Day 1, 27 miles is now known as a ‘Wum’, and any new recruit to the walk begins life as a ‘Wum’, before becoming a Cadet on completion of 27 miles! Never before have the marchers taken so much light from such a bad circumstance.

With spirits (and alcoholic spirits) high, and a day to look forward to tomorrow, the troops gradually hit the hay one by one for some shut eye. Some, however, sat outside singing their songs before being silenced by tiredness.

Day 6

9 people attempted the overnight stage at the beginning of the week, and one of the walkers, Heather, joins the troops for yet more punishment. Chumba and Lady Madonna had so wanted to join in, but due to work commitments, were unable to attend. The troops did, though, welcome Heathers GP father, Yompa’s Jnr and Minor, as well as Tom Pilcher of Reuters - giving us 10 walkers at the start of the day.

Tom Pilcher, soon to be nicknamed TomTom, had travelled from London on the overnight Caledonian Sleeper, to take on some Highland Marching and report our efforts to the world. One thing unique about this years event is the ‘just for the hell of it’ attitude, taking us away from direct charitable funding for the first time in March history.

Yompa got to introducing the Highland March to TomTom with many a story from the past - including his antics away from the Highland March circuit. Slater began the day slow as his blisters took a few miles to find a comfort zone, and the rest of the group were engrossed in much general chit chat to see the day through.

Following the only route we know how, the aim for the day was to be in Inverness one day before we were due. The Scottish Premier League Split had thrown up an early kick off for the match on Saturday, so we needed to be as close to the city centre as possible. Falcon Square was the decided rendezvous.

The troops stick close together for the majority, and as the heavens opened up, the long Moy road comes into view. A previous Highland March has seen the troops try and alternative, by taking a track through a quarry and out at Daviot. Unfortunately they got lost on that occasion, but now it was time to try again.

With Dunco finding his feet and a new lease of life, Slater, Yompa and his 2 sons, as well as Dunco, take the track in an effort to make Daviot. Gringo Jnr and Heather kept each other going with a chat along the route, whilst Gringo was left with TomTom discussing the weeks events. TomTom seemed to be enjoying his introduction into Highland Marching, and didn’t find the Moy road as dull as the troops made out. This may have something to do with his urban roots, or then again, it may be because he was chatting away to each marcher, to get the low down on why the hell they do this!

The first stint of off-roading come into play at Daviot, as one by one the Moy road foursome head over the rather unstable footbridge over the river Nairn. Up the embankment and across the A9, these troops soon hear word from Dogs, that if they up the pace, they will reach the entrance to the woods before the advanced quintet! TomTom and Gringo Jnr had now picked up the pace slightly, leaving Heather and Gringo behind. Yompa’s flouresent hat came into play, as they came into the duo’s sight. A quick glance at each other, and it was game on for TomTom and Jnr. Racing along the road, they sprint to the wood’s entrance, beating the quintet by a matter of seconds. All of course, recorded as evidence!

Something we had lacked on the Highland Marches in recent years, was a regular flag pole. The pole ‘acquired’ on HM6 had now been discarded, as had the 10ft tree Yompa had provided at the start of the week. We needed a new one for the onslaught of Inverness City Centre. Introducing, Gringo Jnr’s Combat Survival Tin - complete with wire finger saw and pocket knife.

After taking on some refreshments, Dogs and Jnr take it upon themselves to seek out and ‘acquire’ a new flag pole. With trees felled all around, they proceed to trim off most the branches, and tie the HM standard securely to the newly acquired pole.

General Wade’s road would take us all the way through to the City Centre, and on emergence from Daviot Woods, the City comes into view. TomTom was full of praise for the troops as he begins to feel the pace of a 20-mile+ day, as was Heather, realising just how far the troops had walked over the last 6 days.

The day hadn’t ended, neither had the Highland March, yet the sense that we had done it had by now set into the troops. All that was left now, was a quick video for honorary recruit TomTom, and an initiation into Ambushing.

Leaving TomTom recording his piece, the troops head off round the corner in an effort to ambush their new media friend. Hiding behind the embankment, TomTom was felled in style, despite his claims he had already seen the troops duck for cover!

Old Edinburgh Road and up to Inverness Castle, down the High Street and finally on to Falcon Square. The Highland March had made its way from Kilmarnock to Inverness in just 6 days!

Communal scoff was taken at the nearby restaurant, and the initiation of TomTom was complete. His final words being “I’ll be back next year - just so I don’t remain a ‘Wum’!”

Day 7

A night of separate accommodation and a break in tradition saw the troops gather at alternating intervals, all in time for their final 2 miles to the stadium, and their appointment with the relegation decider against Falkirk.

Spud the Piper - famous for his part in Madonna and Guy Ritchie’s Wedding - joined us to parade us to the stadium, saying he was honoured to be doing such a deed for us! What a compliment to have bestowed upon us! The man did not disappoint. At 1115, the Highland Marchers, lead by flag bearer Slater, piped by Spud and followed by a crowd of ICT fans, made their way out along the main road and on to the Stadium. Never before has the Highland March seemed so huge as it did on this day. Walking to a match that can ultimately see your team relegated is never something any normal person would even consider - yet these troops had given it their best shot, and made it in fantastic style.

Met at the doors to the stadium by the ever welcoming staff, the troops were led to the media room for tea and coffee, before being sent down the tunnel for the traditional lap of honour. Spud the Piper lead the troops around the park, down to the away supporters. The Falkirk faithful had been a part of 3 previous Highland Marches, and they were not to disappoint with their superb applause as we walked in front of their stand.

As is always the case, the ICT fans are last to be paraded in front of. Spud had been prompted to play ‘when the saints go marching in’ and the crowd lived up to expectations. “Oh Inverness, Is Wonderful” could be heard echoing around the stadium, drowning out the voice of Dogsbody of the tannoy!

The final task for the Highland Marchers, was to provide a Guard of Honour at the tunnel entrance for the players emerging. TV cameras and Newspapers were spread around the stadium for this encounter - one of the biggest games in the history of both these sides.

The loss only a week before meant ICT only needed a draw to survive relegation, yet it was not meant to be. The Highland March, having seen the success and joy of promotion 5 years ago, now saw Inverness CT relegated to the Scottish first division following a 1-0, unjust defeat. Relegation, by goal difference - 2 goals, to be precise.

Is this a good thing? Who knows… but one thing is for certain, however, as the destination of Highland March 8 will be know way before any ball is kicked in the 2009/10 season. Bring on Queen of the South, and the second longest possible Highland March to Dumfries. The longest, being Annan Athletic!