IX
Cairngorms
Another unplanned morning in a hotel room would have seemed a failure of willpower if it could have been predicted. Adam knew more than most that life often had plans in which its keeper was not included, but on this occasion he reserved jumping to optimistic or pessimistic conclusions. His encounter with the flaming eyes had warned of a ghostly storm brewing up ahead, but instead he’d found a friendly face from the New World who ended up asleep in his bed. There seemed to be no link between the two and yet Becky’s arrival was too bizarre an event to suppose anything normal was going on. Long he lay thinking on the matter and, although the joy of seeing her did not wear off, his thoughts grew dark with the possibility that luring a person he had great affection for onto the battlefield was a clear threat against pursuing his goals.
At least that was one interpretation; the other being that his enemies had sent him a familiar face in order to lure him back to normality and the prison into which he had long ago been shepherded, where he would remain victimised and weak to affect the course of man’s earthly existence.
Thinking the many possibilities over, his intention had been to rest but stay awake through the night. Slipping into unconsciousness was unintended and fleeting, but the results confirmed his resolve to go on, at least until Becky confirmed there were more important matters to handle back in London, for the Hag was still with him and the sight of its face made him selfish enough to prioritise his own affairs by morning light. No attack had come, but as sleep came so too the Hag’s grimace – or perhaps it never truly left him – sitting atop his chest and mocking him, a mild and less maniacal amusement on those features as if to remind him that his efforts were futile and her shaming delights would soon come again.
In waking, his inner torment might have been revealed, had Becky been any more alert to a new day, for in fighting against the weight of the cursed harpy Adam woke with an absurd leap into mid-air, landing directly in front of where his new companion would have been looking had her eyes been open. Fortunately sleep still had her but the sudden noise was enough to waken; instinctively Adam pretended to be performing a press-up, feeling ridiculous as he asked her if she wanted a cup of tea, but to his relief no awkward questions came and Becky sunk back into her pillow, requesting coffee instead.
After what appeared to be an attempt to wish the nightly hours to return, Becky gave up believing the morning was but a dream and made her way to the bathroom, for some reason dragging the duvet with her, wrapping it around her body as if covering up nakedness. Thankfully no great hangover other than a sore head was upon her, however, and it became clear that going ahead with the expedition into the mountains was indeed a plan that remained intact. Certainly neither of them sought to bring up whatever had driven her from London.
The façade would linger for another day then. Though it was Monday (or was it Tuesday), Adam did not suppose the workplace would object considering both of them would return unexpected if there did turn out to be some disaster. He had no objection to faking one day for the sake of Becky’s company, if indeed they were to return to London later in the week. Let events take their own course, he thought, and presume that he was still present for a reason, until matters beyond his influence stole his expedition away perhaps never to be undertaken again.
Waiting on Becky to prepare for the outdoors, it therefore fell on him to muse over what his expedition might now involve if it turned out there was still hope it could see out its course. At first he had presumed the worst and supposed that Becky’s presence was a warning, but in the cold light of morn he found he no longer agreed with his previous conclusion. Evidence was key to informing his work and there was not a shred of evidence, from years of being the Hag’s victim, that his tormenters had the power to influence those around him. Hide themselves from eyes and ears they might be able, but there was no likelihood that they had clicked their fingers and summoned Becky to his side. Additionally he needed no research or prolonged thought to rule that Becky was no vessel of evil, harbouring no backwards medieval suspicions on the inherent wickedness of the fairer sex. Instead he thought on the bond between the two of them and what strength there was to gain from allowing it to grow and flourish.
In some ways – he dared to think – the fog of his life was already beginning to clear.
Ill fates might be transpired nevertheless and, with Becky beside him, he had to accept that he was now risking more than his own life and soul, but the life of someone very dear to him.
Is it wise for mortal man to seek to instigate a clash of ethereal oppressors as he was?
So far his mission had prevailed despite a warning from the burning eyes of Hell; he felt he was getting close to something, but in doing so the stakes were getting higher. Time would tell whether he was fooling himself, but he had already shaken off all concerns for the workplace to prepare for something momentous. Tragic consequences might await his gamble, but he held on to his faith in the future not being written, refusing to live his life believing the heavens had not given him a chance.
Numerous outcomes he may have considered, but keeping Becky safe was to become his chief priority on the day’s excursion, regardless of his own task. Until a firm knowledge of why she might have been called hence became clear, it was not for him to presume any alternative course of action the best decision.
As far as the practicalities were concerned, at least, there were no new developments to feel anxious about. Typically of Becky, it turned out she was more organised from a short-notice arrival than Adam had been from weeks of planning. Once kitted up, it appeared her clothes were even more suited to the outdoors than his, while she was already equipped with high-energy foods and sleeping paraphernalia so that there was no reason to seek out further supplies of any kind.
Clad as two winter adventurers they set off, therefore, half wondering if the outing equated to the hardiest choice of romantic date any couple had ever taken, but intent on appearing to take the excursion itself seriously. Once again Adam began the day knowing he would be walking the territory of the Grey Man before nightfall, but this time he made his way towards doom with good cheer and a charming companion, in a manner that might have been more suited to a summer picnic in Hampshire.
So it was that just as the Tuesday morning London crowds were making their way through underground networks to the workplaces of boom and abolished bust; picking up milky lattes on route to corporate meetings and webcam conferences, that two of their accomplished children were missing in action. Instead they stood on the outskirts of the Glen More Forest Park, having left the car, looking out over the Cairngorm’s multiple peaks. Prepared for a cold and desolate landscape far from warm food and plug sockets, they had no intention of spending one waking moment thinking on city affairs.
Some trepidation may have lay beneath the surface, but there was also an impression that the landscape was awaiting them and that they were embarking on a journey long prophesied. The glistening peaks still resisted the major snowfall they understood to have settled in other parts of Scotland and the North of England, as if leaving a door open for their feet to enter before closing its borders to further entrants. No sign even of the most enthusiastic Highland walker could be seen in the valley before them as they turned their backs on Aviemore – from the very viewpoint where the enigmatic Peter Densham once set off – and made their way in the direction of Ben Macdui itself.
The concept of land ownership is objectionable to some but perhaps a land does, in some way, belong to those whose story is about to be played out upon it. This was an idea that seemed to solidify in their minds the farther they walked as, maybe by some spiritual instinct mankind has forgotten the name of, they knew themselves to be the only souls upon the mountain range that day. Empty of the spirits attached to physical beings as themselves, but also to the waif, sprite and the greater malevolent being that folklore told visited those heights. No foreboding of the Grey Man was upon Adam as there had been on his waylaid visit
the day before, almost as if permission had been granted to walk whatever heights they wished with a holy decree that no evil could interfere with or even look upon them. Becky felt this too, though her instincts for the hierarchy of the spiritual were not as sensitive as Adam’s experiences had made him, but they knew without speaking that they were in no danger that day. The Universe and whatever ruled it had decreed that the day would belong to them and nothing would intrude upon the sanctity of that great but fleeting gift that mortals are granted in great generosity in childhood, but only with great exception as adults.
Out of courtesy, Adam did put to his new companion the notion that she might prefer a day out somewhere more thriving, such as one of the skiing hotspots, alongside fine restaurants and a drive from suave leisure facilities with saunas and Jacuzzis. They both knew he was just acting the gentleman, however, for only a stupidity so great as to be remembered in song when a thousand years has passed would turn its back to the gift they were granted.
‘I’ve not come here to crash your party and make you follow my lead,’ she told him, pretending to misunderstand. ‘Besides, do you think I’m some kind of pampered daddy’s girl?’
Understanding by her tone it would be foolish to take her on, they instead began to eat up the thin pathway before them with great enthusiasm, putting several miles between themselves and the last homely house before their limbs began to even consider feeling tired or craving more sustenance.
Their trek began on a downhill slope, following the streams that run from the visitor centre and caring not to stick to marked footpaths with the valley running between Cairn Gorm and the lesser peak of Carn Eilrig providing a clear destination. Once that descent was complete they turned south-east and began the route that saw Ben Macdui itself loom ever closer. Eventually they left the streams behind them and came to the footpath they’d ignored seeking out earlier, deciding to stick with their original plan to refuse the steeper ascent of the mountain for the less arduous approach further south. A less taxing route that was ultimately convenient for reaching the Corrour Bothy via the steeper descent, where they planned to rest their aching legs at day’s end. Sticking to their plan, largely through the insistence of Becky that original intentions should be adhered to (and telling him not to underestimate her leg muscles), they soon found themselves with Ben Macdui rising on their left and the peak of Braeriach on their right, itself reaching a similar height and with corroding, treacherous slopes that made them glad to be tackling its neighbour instead.
Their spirits remained high as they walked, talking and laughing loudly with little timidity of who or what might be able to spot them, even continuing the speculations left in the bottom of a glass the previous night. Seldom had they time to talk without at least some nod to the pressures of the office and they found their enjoyment of each other’s company completed by its absence.
Mankind will have built the world God has charged us to build on the day that all lives can achieve such freedom.
Becky had brought a camera and sketchbook to occupy her mind in case her companion was spending his time note making or ghost hunting. Once they were underway drawing seemed the more ridiculous notion of the two, however, but she was pleased to take a great number of spooky photos, making the most of the mists that shrouded the surrounding heights and telling Adam he could use them for whatever groundbreaking paper he was planning.
‘Ben Macdui,’ Becky said, naming the highest peak rising on their left as if her companion might not know its name. ‘Second highest peak in Scotland next to Ben Nevis – 1,440 feet, highest in the Cairngorm mountain range,’ she went on, reading from a tourist guide she had acquired in Aberdeen.
‘The climbers around here used to argue that it was higher than Ben Nevis,’ Adam told her, ‘before they were both measured; there’s less than three feet of difference. If the day was clearer we could see Ben Nevis from the summit.’
‘If a thirty-foot tall man doesn’t chase us down first,’ Becky replied, raising an eyebrow and smiling with an expression that did not know whether disbelief or anxiety would be the most sensible stance to take.
‘You’re not nervous are you?’ he asked her.
‘No, I’ve walked past murderers in city streets all my life without knowing it,’ Becky replied. ‘I’ll take my chances with this Highland spectre for a few days.’
‘You ever seen a ghost?’
‘No, but if you’re going to see one, might as well be in a place like this. It’s magical up here, my postcard doesn’t do Scotland justice.’
‘You’ll have the memory to look back on now,’ Adam replied, who for a moment thought a slight tug of sadness pulled at Becky’s expression, as a wisp of cloud upon the clearest sky, but if trauma lingered behind those eyes somewhere then it refused to surface again. Instead she asked him, ‘So what do you think the Grey Man is there for?’ again surprising him with how at ease she was discussing ghost stories. ‘Is he just hostile or does he have a purpose?’
‘Everything has purpose surely, but perhaps it’s just that some humans cannot stand his presence.’
‘Or perhaps he’s guarding something,’ she offered, ‘and reacts to those he perceives as a threat.’
‘Or just plainly doesn’t like.’
‘Ah, that would be Englishmen then.’
‘None of the accounts are from Englishmen.’
‘Highlanders with English blood maybe, so I should be OK.’
‘Well, I’ll soon find out if that’s the case, but I doubt our lives are of much interest to him.’
But despite this speculative teasing Becky’s first suggestion that something on the mountain required guarding had occurred to him; there had to be a reason why such an entity would haunt one mountain and not another. The only addition missing was any clue as to what such a secret might be, presuming it wasn’t the weather mast or satellite link. Do ancient secrets that are beyond the skills of archaeology to decipher still linger in the land, or is Ben Macdui of spiritual significance?
On the Grey Man’s spell of dread Adam had given much thought. Knowing from experience that fear is not used as a weapon simply for fear’s sake, or for showboating to mortals, he therefore believed the task of shepherding walkers from the Ben Macdui heights was undertaken for a very specific purpose – just as the Hag needed its victims rendered powerless.
In this summation lay hope, molested but intact amidst the observations of a penetrating intellect; Adam sought to understand more about one spell in order to break another. In doing so the phrase ‘playing with fire’ sprang to mind; even if his theorising on the spirit world being a separate dimension proved sound, there was no guarantee he would not find himself powerless as an insect on a laboratory table. Just because the Grey Man kept certain people away it did not mean they presented a danger to him – do we keep mice from our homes because we fear they will destroy us?
Such deliberations seemed quite distant, however, as they approached their choice of ascent. The footpath reached far along the valley until the Ben Macdui peak was almost behind them, until at last it branched off to curl onto the furthest vein of the mountain’s body which stretched southwards as the spine of a stranded whale. Question marks remained as to whether they should try the climb but, standing there and finally having the chosen path before him, Adam realised he had been overlooking the greatest presence of all: the mountain itself.
Along the way he had persisted with his plan not to bring up the subject of Becky’s arrival, seeking to be the supportive friend he guessed she needed while hoping she was not just pretending to enjoy the experience. The plan seemed to be going well, for she showed clear delight in every moment to an extent he had not seen in her before. If the opportunity came he would pry further, but until then he saw no reason to put a stain upon the day. Despite this there was one moment when he thought she came close to revealing her troubles, when talking briefly of their lives in London.
‘Do you think we’ll find anything up
there to scare us?’ Adam had asked casually.
‘It’s magical that’s for sure,’ she replied. ‘I’m sure we’ll find something here. More than in London anyway.’
The reference to London had been made in a lower tone, betraying a wariness for her home from home that had never come from her lips before. Her move from the US hadn’t been a subject Adam had ever pressed her on, presuming it had been for academic interests, but for the first time he received the impression of something inside that was craving a sense of belonging.
‘I thought you liked the capital?’ Adam asked, having seen the joy she took from famous London landmarks that he knew she sought to suppress so as not to look like a tourist.
‘I thought it would be a good place to lose myself,’ she replied, still far off in thought and mentioning London almost as if it was already a part of her past, ‘but I should have been looking for myself.’
Adam didn’t quite know what to make of this and wanted to enquire further, but before he could think of something appropriate Becky brought matters back to the present and the Cairngorms.
‘If a thirty foot tall Abominable snowman can find himself out here then perhaps we can too,’ she told him, looking up at the spine that led to the Ben Macdui summit. Against Adam’s earlier fears, they had reached the destination early enough to attempt a climb without having to worry about losing light for the steeper descent.
‘You been to the top yet,’ Becky asked and, when discovering he hadn’t, her eyes lit up with the excitement of the prospect.
‘Do your legs have it in them?’ he asked.
‘I guess we’ll find out, come on.’
And so the climb began at last and Adam realised he would soon be standing in the epicentre of the Grey Man’s territory. In a way he had been holding back in case the mountain proved not to be mystical or fire his imagination at all. With the first part of the ascent underway, however, he realised that he was not thinking about giant spectres anymore and was only excited over the view that would greet them after their climb to the second most majestic view of Scotland. The timing appeared to be perfect also, the day had cleared considerably and even the mist that remained was low hanging. Unusually the mountain summits loomed about them advertising their wonders and inviting walkers to visit. There would not be a better time to achieve such a sight and this was an enticement that lay ahead thanks to Becky.
In beginning the ascent it felt as if they had come to the final part of the day’s journey, yet in completing it they had to walk the same distance they had already walked that day and this time climbing steep ground for the most part. As any who have scaled mountains and even large hills will know, the proximity of the summit is usually deceiving from the lowest viewpoint; rising ground hid the true extent of the remaining climb and often the eye was deceived into believing the feet were closer to the summit than a better vantage point would subsequently reveal was the case. Walking the longest spine of the Ben Macdui plateau, they would encounter deception multiple times, as if the ground before them had become a rolling escalator keeping them in one place, a sensation that only the occasional glance over their shoulders sought to convince them was an untruth.
None of this dimmed their spirits. Even by himself Adam suspected he would have been quite happy, even if to an ice-cold imprisonment he walked, but togetherness further enhanced their anticipation of the summit. A person’s resolve to walk on such heights is questioned with every step. Regardless of hostile spirits it appears that the soul demands permission for such a feat. No climber would ever return to a mountain that set no challenge to their willpower, but it was with perverse delight in trying their already aching limbs that they both prevailed. In the attempt, Adam knew that Becky must have been hurting more than she let on, but clearly something must be said for running each evening, allowing her to be just as suited as he to the day’s pursuits.
On the south approach there was little in the way of danger; even if a walker was forced from the path into a sudden descent they would probably find a sure enough footing so long as they did not trip, or attempt such a route in the darkness. Adam was correct in thinking they were nearing the top on noticing first one large circular basin on their left then a smaller one soon after on their right. He seemed to recall a mention of these former bodies of water some time during his research; where exactly they had come from he could not recall, but he knew that certain tarns near the summit had been drained for safety reasons some time in the middle of the last century, for fear that foolish walkers would fall in far from help. Some climbers consider it a sad development that we no longer walk Ben Macdui as it had been when Collie and Kellas had their encounters with the Grey Man. Adam himself had no complaints with the landscape, though could not help some curiosity as to how much more they would have been able to see 100 years earlier.
Such matters are not ours to decide and for those two approaching the summit for the first time there seemed no reason to mourn any of man’s interference. Ben Macdui did not disappoint in its splendour, even with the winter snowfall held off and a clear sky with mists still hanging low beneath the Cairngorm peaks. Conquering those very mists, they had anticipated a wider view but were intent upon not lingering until the glory of open air in all directions was available. An elongated summit height meant that even as the ground came close to levelling out, comparatively speaking, there was still some distance until the very peak was reached. Only twice they had halted for breath on the way, aiming to gain more time higher up that would be suitable both for rest and for scanning the horizon and it was for pride’s sake that they continued without a break until they could say for certain that all mountain paths were beneath their feet.
At last they reached the highest ground, rounding the trig point and summit indicator to an unimpeded view and sudden sense of vertigo as the extent of their climb was revealed. Anticipating such a moment had been exciting and ominous in equal measure, for reasons neither could explain. For a time they said nothing, catching their breath and not knowing which way to look. On what corner of a cornerless horizon do we judge it worthy to rest our gaze when every distance succeeds in resonating Scotland’s famous beauty in its own seductive manner?
After a time they realised they were dizzy and, almost walking into each other, first laughed then embraced before returning to more of what they had been doing.
The glorious peaks of the Highlands floated upon cloud as many wondrous isles, with the mist itself not so thick that their eyes could not see through to the valley floor beneath, as if looking out on a lake so clear that the water’s surface failed to hide all the secrets of its bed.
Even more time passed before they accepted the view was no illusion and decided to speak to each other. Becky asked Adam if he thought a photo was a good idea, the vastness of the brilliance before them leading her to doubt that any still would capture what they felt. Adam told her not to bother, knowing it would do their memory no justice but it was in that state, completely unplanned but seeming unobtrusive now they were as far away from the affairs of their race as Britain would allow, when he suddenly found it easy to ask Becky why she had blessed him and his adventure with her company.
The timing proved well and no further persuasion was needed. All the emotional burdens they had carried up the mountain slopes were temporarily conquered and blurred their vision no more. Naked they felt, in a sense; revealed to each other with integrity fully charged and Adam sensed he could reach out to her as a concerned friend only, rather than a curious acquaintance with a thirst for information.
‘I’m glad you’re here with me, Becky,’ he began.
‘Me too my friend,’ she replied, with a warm smile on her face – a face he had never seen before until then. Blinking in the sun that was falling behind her, the mystical being he had travelled to the Cairngorms to locate might have been perilous indeed, but beautifully so and he did not fear her at all – only himself.
‘Are you far enough away now?’ he as
ked.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘From what you’re running from,’ the smile slowly left her face, but rather than mourn he was determined to war against all the world and the heavens to see it return one day, as he had first seen it on Ben Macdui. Becky herself showed no anger and the joy did not seem to leave her entirely, rather her delight and trauma had met a crossroads and it was time to choose a new path; he knew she would now give in.
‘I know it must be something serious,’ he continued, ‘but I really can’t guess. We’re as remote now as anywhere you could possibly be in this country. Will you not tell me what has happened? If not here then perhaps nowhere?’
Becky half turned away from him and he knew she was resisting tears. Suddenly it seemed to him that she was the haunted one and her ghosts had been hidden far deeper than he had ever buried his own.
‘I hate not being in control,’ Becky said, with a voice that sounded surprisingly strong considering her vulnerability, giving him great hope in the fight that remained within. ‘That’s why I came to the only person I can trust – but I don’t want to put you in danger.’
‘Danger?’ he responded, startled that she might think he could be so jeopardised. ‘Only in danger of standing idle while you’re in trouble if you don’t tell me more.’
As he spoke he noticed Becky’s shoulders relax, almost as if giving in to an embrace, but instead of letting out her secrets she first pleaded, ‘Let’s not ruin this view by discussing it here. On the way down to your bothy, if that’s where we’re heading; once we’re passed the treacherous part.’
This was easy to agree to, though it was still some time later when they began their descent, only when evening was close to being upon them did they accept they could not linger further considering the first part would require both balance and vision. Becky would tell him all of her tale once the steepest slopes were overcome and the walking easy and Adam would only reflect later that night before falling asleep that he had walked the entire Grey Man territory, including the dreaded Lairig Ghru pass and many more sites where terror had played out, without giving the fearsome being much more than a glancing thought.
Not Far From Aviemore Page 9