Walking the Watershed

Foreword

by Perkin Warbeck, co-editor of The Angry Corrie, Scotland's first and finest hillwalking fanzine.

I had not seen the Figure for a few days. When we caught up again the gleam was in his eye. I had seen it before, the last time being the search for the three Us. He was convinced there was a point from which three of the big illuminated Us outside Glasgow's underground stations could be seen. As it turned out, no such point existed, at least not while standing on terra firma.

The gleam had also accompanied the cataloguing of all 1428 taxis in Glasgow and other projects of a topological/numerological bent to which the Figure's teeming brain was drawn.

I was up Meikle Bin at the weekend.

All the water on one side flows to the Forth and all the water on the other to the Clyde.

It's therefore a point on the east-west watershed. The locus of all such points would be a unique line from south to north dividing Scotland in two.

(He didn't actually use these words, but it's a lot more concise than the rambling monologue on which he embarked. I can't now remember if the actual phrase Holy Grail was mentioned, but that's the gist. He reckoned the route had never been identified or walked before.)

And I'm going to walk it.

Because it's the watershed you would never cross a river. It's the only route from south to north where you would keep your feet dry.

(This particularly outrageous claim was later tested to the full and found to be slightly erroneous.)

You would get great views. And your pals would have to spend the next three months with no other thought than how to keep you fed, clothed and emotionally buoyed up.

(He may not have said this either, and it's a pity; someone might have had the sense to dissuade him.)

It seemed no one had ever plotted The Watershed - it assumed capital status about this time. Probably because it squirmed all over the country like Bonnie Chairlie's wanderings. Which brings us to the book. This very book you are reading now. The Figure's guide to walking The Watershed and his thoughts on Life, the Universe, and why the answer is not 42 but 452.

Hillwalking books appear to be a commercial prospect if they are either written by someone already famous or if they detail epic new ways to conquer the Munros in less time or more precarious circumstances. The Figure was then an unknown sub-Joycean Giant without even the cult status he now enjoys as editor of The Angry Corrie. His walk derived from the natural topology of the land with Munros falling on or off The Watershed as they saw fit. His observations did not fit neatly into the "Turn left at the bagpipe shop and remember to ask permission to camp. We are guests of the landowners" genre. Who would publish such an eclectic work?

TACit Press, that's who. The Rough Trade of the hillwalking scene, waiting for The Smiths to come along. Virile as a stag, but contemplative as a capercaillie.

And thus you hold in your hands a guide of sorts to the country of Scotland. There will be few if any mentions of Bonnie Chairlie. No-one will get frostbite or crotch rot whatever that is. The scariest moment is when a sheep gets into his tent. What you will get is the thoughts of a man who has spent a year of his life in his tent, three months of which are the period of The Watershed. A man who cannot see a 499m spot height without thinking of Hanif Mohammed. A man for whom the words trail mix and Beanfeast became like the infamous albatross itself.

Read and enjoy, but remember - if you think of walking The Watershed yourself, you will get your feet wet.