Ridgewalk

Christine McIntosh

It was May, the sun was shining, and I was fifty-two. For the past twenty-five years I'd eyed the Aonach Eagach ridge from the road through Glencoe, and for twenty-five years I'd longed to try it. But the responsibility for two young children and a husband with no head for heights had prevailed and it had remained a dream; the closest I'd been to the experience had been watching Muriel Gray on the telly. Until today, this sunny Saturday in the middle of May.

From the perspective of ten years later, the day is a series of bright pictures. The first is actually from the evening before the climb, when, having been told that the narrowest bit of the ridge was about the width of the kerb in Dunoon's main street, I was to be found experimenting with my balance. It did little for my confidence to teeter off into the path of a taxi; I decided to put it from my mind and wait for the morrow. ... (continues)