VIII
A fair apparition
Morning brought some of the promised snowfall, but proved anti-climatic for those who had predicted a blizzard, falling as thin decoration rather than the flurry the inhabitants had been bracing themselves for. The picture that welcomed Adam’s sore head was a decorated version of the previous day, but a long way from threatening any of his ambitions, being substantial enough to convince only the least adventurous to stay indoors.
Winter seemed to have arrived nevertheless but its first shades were not so uninviting – at least to those of us who do not spend every single hour yearning for warm weather. Autumn was Adam’s favourite time of year, as for some reason when spring felt furthest away so too did many of life’s failures.
From his research he knew that skiing and winter sports were popular pursuits in the Cairngorms, but the paths he had planned did not cross with such activities and so he expected his expedition to play out without interference. The snow-kissed Highlands suggested his arrival was well timed, welcoming the season when casual tourists did not seek out remote regions. Conditions could now be described as ripe for Grey Man activity and, though getting down to business did not come without trepidation after the occurrences of the last few days, a new-look outside world drove away most of the sombre thoughts that lingered from his descent to the bottom of a bottle. Additionally, knowing he would soon disappear from view into the valleys and peaks of that bleak landscape gave him reason not to concern himself of his pounding head and dizziness, for neither seemed of importance on the solitary paths ahead.
Outside the snow had not been accompanied by any particularly cruel arctic gale, the one addition he thought might put him off, so the conditions felt favourable for walking. All seemed poised for an experience of Ben Macdui in the same guise as when its infamous tales had played out. Whether Adam could stand the terror of such a meeting remained to be seen, but whenever he dared consider it the thought of returning to the same lifelong torments proved less desirable. So it was that he set off for the Inn once again, hoping that winter’s discord had sounded the notes required to lure the Grey Man out of hiding.
Hitherto there was no reason to suppose the tales that had enriched the Cairngorms’ reputation would prove only tales. In taking up his expedition, Adam had been wary of finding an apathetic land that mocked him for daring to have an imagination, but so far the only failures had been his own in drinking too much and almost driving under the wheels of a lorry. Luckily he still found the fear of living more enticing than intoxication and so his willpower held out for the perilous task now imminent. Refusing even to reassess his plans, he set out for a destination beyond aid to fulfil the challenge set and accept confrontation if it came, even if it proved beyond him… or destroyed him.
A clear dawn may have lit the way, but a darkness lay on him that morning. The darkness of finality.
Adam was resolved to accept whatever dangers came his way even if his wisdom proved inconsequential before the combatants that sprang forth. Greater knowledge might be found upon the path, but he was not naïve enough to suppose there would not be a price for the gamble, or that justice would be obtained without sacrifice.
In his preparations one promise alone had been made against the odds he faced – that he would not die of the cold. Against such a pitiful end he had taken all care, was clad in warm clothing and equipped with a one-man tent and food and drink for three nights. Walking would go a long way towards keeping him warm, as would a mouthful of whisky as witching hour approached (for what other reason have the Scots come to love their whisky so much?).
What advice he could expect from Affleck White proved the one lingering doubt, in case the warden might have had second thoughts or deliberately delayed him in the first instance. It did not take long to dispel these doubts, however, as he was delighted to find the Highlander true to his word, turning up at the inn car park at 3pm in a four-wheel drive vehicle which the challenges of his work often made essential.
Though not far from Aviemore, the journey to the Corrour Bothy was negotiated by awkward one-track roads and so took longer than Adam had guessed. Happily the company was far from awkward. Adam found his new acquaintance’s sharp and direct speech refreshing, contrasting sharply with too many hours sitting in guarded company meetings listening to colleagues who said one thing in order to mean another. Affleck might have come across as no-nonsense and impossible to intimidate, but for those brave enough to find out it did not take long to discover that he was something of a gentle giant. Deserving of respect throughout the Cairngorm communities, not because there was any malice in him, but for his safeguarding skills and unswerving commitment to the sanctity of life no matter what time or temperature. The warden had been responsible for saving more than one young and foolish adventure from tragedy, treating his role in doing so as a way of life rather than just a job.
Clearly Adam’s determination to relate some self-preservation on their first meeting had some effect on the warden, for those who deal in the business of life saving are usually relieved to find even a shred of common sense in the members of the human race they are charged with protecting. By seeking Affleck out, Adam had won at least a portion of his respect and the warden was willing to be generous with his time and advice if it saved him and others anxious hours of worry later – although Adam still wondered if his mention of the music had helped and made up for any mention of the Fear Liath Mòr.
Affleck spoke unguardedly along the way about some of the wonders of the Cairngorms and the experiences he could recall, as if to an apprentice after his own heart, but he didn’t neglect interrogating Adam further on his plans.
‘So we want to stay on the mountain do we?’ he began, suddenly moving on from storytelling.
‘Would you advise against it?’ Adam replied.
‘Well not if you believe in big grey men, obviously. But if you’re taking it seriously there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to enjoy the sights the Highland way, rather than from a pair of fuckin’ skis.’
‘I’ve heard that cold winter nights are the best time.’
‘Of course, when all the summer tourists decide to stay away. Experiencing that far away feeling widens the mind, unless you’re as lacking in calibre as those that wrote that Intershite stuff.’
‘Are you telling me you don’t have Broadband connection up here then?’ Adam asked, pretending to be put out.
‘Never been on the bloody thing, but I see the stories are true.’
‘What stories?’
‘It leads to people attracting weirdoes.’
Sensing any more attempts to compete with Affleck’s wit would fail, Adam instead decided to ask if he would reveal why his photo had ended up on an Internet account of paranormal activity. As it turned out, the story was in fact true but in the same way as many of the supernatural stories he’d come across; true but badly told.
‘Well…’ Affleck said, attempting to explain the revelation, ‘…it was their interpretation of an experience. I’ve known people look at planes in the night sky and swear blind they’re UFOs. If you’re not cynical you can believe in anything.
‘I’ve never seen no Grey Man now, but Ben Macdui has a mysterious air to it, especially in the winter. The mist falls all of a sudden, like something out of an old ghost story, but I’ve never seen nothing tall or found any footprints.’
‘But one of the boys claimed to have?’
‘So he said, but when fear takes you in the wilderness it’s easy for your eyes to be deceived.’
There are many reasons for impressionable youngsters to get carried away when walking a mystical landscape. Scientists will tell us the human mind is conditioned to see faces in irregular patterns and so convincing oneself of a malevolent shape lurking amidst dense fog is hardly a stretch, especially if one is rumoured to be there already. Adam recalled once seeing the unmistakable face of an African lion in dark woodland, when walking close to his old childhood home o
ne night. Convincing himself the face could only be a trick of the light, he and a friend had nevertheless succeeded in scaring a more impressionable youth into taking a lengthy detour just in case. As there were no subsequent reports of a lion in the area he had always presumed he and his friend had been entirely sensible in walking slowly by.
‘Was my fault really,’ Affleck told him.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Ah, they were annoying me with their fuckin’ walkmans and gadgets making noises all the way up the fell, while any words they had to say were total nonsense. I didn’t know whether voting for your best looking celebrity or arguing whether Taxi Driver or Raging Bull is the better film was the most interesting discussion to be having. Got on my nerves worse than a nagging woman with hormones, so to redirect the talk I decided to put the wind up them. Thought it might be a long shot but they were really taken in; told them some of the old tales that were told to me when I was growing up and warned them to beware if any mists descended all of a sudden, it was likely the Grey Man was after them – well, of course, that’s exactly what happened.’
And so the truth behind the story of the latest Grey Man encounter seemed well and truly put to bed. Adam was satisfied this new version of the tale held far more weight. A cocktail of mist and ghost stories had spooked the youngsters and caused them to run, due to which one fell and broke his ankle, though in truth he had been lucky not to fall to his end. Regardless of this being one of the primary curiosities of his research, Adam found himself laughing at the thought of the foolish youngsters, wondering it they had actually learnt anything from the lesson the universe had at least tried to teach them.
‘I didn’t find it so funny having to carry one of the idiots all the way back to Aviemore,’ Affleck continued, though only intensifying Adam’s laughter as a result, ‘crying tears like a baby he was.’
Further along seldom-used mountain roads they went, during which time Adam learnt exactly why the journey should be taken in a four-by-four. He even began to feel apologetic for setting such a task, after all Affleck could have just pointed in the direction of the bothy and threw him the keys, but his guide showed no sign of irritation even though the vehicle found more potholes than road and, as with every excursion in that part of the world, the views were always rewarding.
On a lonely vein of road Affleck stopped the vehicle and it became clear that the height of the mountains had been underestimated, for they had not even reached the bothy despite seeming to have climbed for the entire journey. Lack of road indicated they’d arrived in a different land; a kingdom within a kingdom that was too high and uninhabitable to adapt to the same laws of travel. Construction firms were unusually accustomed to giving in as far as the Highlands were concerned. Against character their lusting for every piece of outdoor space was quashed in a country where surroundings were far too imposing to sustain an argument for commerce.
Walking the rest of the way to the bothy, Scotland’s mightiest mountain range suffered no rival in the heavens above and taught them the meaning of majesty. There was no getting away from the fact that they were now in the heart of the Cairngorms and Adam felt the realisation that the landscape of his doom was about him; at last he walked within the realm of his story now rather than studying it as an outsider. He knew that the valley below was the very same where Frere and Collie met with their terrifying experiences and was finally able to behold the Lairig Ghru pass itself. Already it dared him to approach while he questioned whether some form of Bermuda Triangle effect occurred up there and if he would encounter that same terror and delusion. Excited and afraid in equal measure – for now – he felt more alive than he could ever recall as he prepared to test the spiritual plain of the Hag and her demon-hillybilly.
‘So you don’t think anything’s up there?’ Adam asked his temporary companion, no longer caring whether it sounded strange.
‘Ah, but it’s not what’s up there, it’s what’s in here,’ the Highlander replied, tapping his forehead. It was a casual gesture, but Adam was sure he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up just for a moment. Why did they seem like the wisest words he had ever heard?
Unsure what to make of this, he swerved analysis by asking Affleck if he had always lived in the Highlands. It turned out that he had actually lived in London for a year, and climbed in Europe, including various heights in the Alps, as well as in Austria and Switzerland. Seeing the world had been an enjoyable experience and had expanded his mind, but it was a different world to the one Affleck learned on the way that he belonged to. Travelling far from home only to realise we have left behind the land of our heart is a common story, but one the Cairngorm warden gives some credence, telling Adam he felt no need to leave Scotland again.
‘’Tis a generous homeland and more than anyone deserves,’ he told him, ‘and I get to share some of its secrets with visitors whenever they feel like going out of their way. Here’s the fella.’
A calming of the footpath’s steepness gifted them a more complete view of the heights above, the newest and most immediate addition to which was the Corrour Bothy itself. Having feared to find some rickety shed that barely kept out the wind, Adam was encouraged to see a firm structure of clear strength, a place of shelter from all conditions if the elements became too cruel for a one-man tent. Physically Adam was now confident he could survive the expedition, though it remained that his spiritual existence might face perils unimaginable.
The interior also was surprisingly cosier than he had expected, containing a working sink, a recently-installed lavatory, a sofa-bed and a fireplace. Ancient brickwork nearby told that this height had long been a haunt for shepherds who needed a place of respite to watch over their flocks, but this new bothy had been constructed little more than 50 years ago, offering shelter to those who wished to experience the remoteness of the Cairngorm wilderness.
With enough warm clothes and a sleeping bag, any wanderer should be quite comfortable in the Corrour Bothy in even the harshest weather. The structure has certainly saved lives before and, Adam would discover, is only ever locked from inside and so there was no reason why Affleck had to accompany him there. Mountaineers of the region have an understanding that the upkeep of life-saving structures should be respected and that anyone staying in them should always open the door to those needing shelter. A pair of keys was thrown his way nevertheless and Adam promised to return them once his adventure was over, hoping the gratitude he expressed did not seem too slight for the generosity he was being shown.
Walking back to the vehicle – with the music of the Cairngorms and any other secrets that were prepared to reveal themselves awaiting him at last – Adam realised the warden had only accompanied him in order to offer more advice.
‘You be staying in the bothy tonight then?’
‘No, I’ll probably try the tent tonight. If I sleep on the south side I can make my way to the summit tomorrow, but if the weather man’s snowfall comes I can make my way back here.’
‘Well it’s a free country, even for an Englishman I suppose. You make the most of your time here.’
‘So you’re confident I won’t be killing myself?’
‘No! But I see you would have come up anyway so I thought it best to show you the bothy. Also if you turn up dead somewhere I’d prefer my name not to be mentioned as someone who could have warned you otherwise but failed to.
‘Don’t ever leave your camping gear behind,’ Affleck went on, offering his closing piece of guidance, ‘and don’t walk around at night, even with a torch it’s dodgy if there’s snow under foot, you never know if it’s hanging over some fall that even if you survive you’ll probably be stranded beneath and freeze to death.’
‘I appreciate the advice,’ Adam told him, ‘but I can think of better ways of killing myself so don’t be too concerned.’
‘Ah, but this is the land of the Fear Liath Mòr,’ Affleck said, smiling, ‘the Grey Man will see to your fate…’ these were about to be his fina
l words before he climbed into his van and drove off, but just then events took a very curious turn, one unseen by the most open-minded speculation Adam’s imagination might have proposed, as Affleck then said, ‘…and it seems another doom is coming for you, she’s looking right up as if she knows you.’
As they had wrapped up their business, Adam had been aware in his peripheral vision of a woman making her way up the same path and towards them. Her blonde hair glistened in the cold but clear afternoon sky, but he had paid her little attention. There were ramblers here and there and it was not as unusual, as he had previously presumed, to see a female rambler out alone.
Once Affleck had made this strange remark, however, Adam was inclined to take more note of her. He presumed Affleck to be winding him up in some way, but what he saw was something his mind would find no explanation for, no matter how long he stared to analyse. Looking back he would have been hard pushed to say exactly how long he stood staring at the familiar smile that was looking up at him, as if the Celtic Underworld itself had crafted an illusion of bewilderment for him that made the woman look exactly like his good friend Becky who would at that moment be highly focused on the affairs of the Kismet Lore laboratory.
As sure as this bet felt, the doppelganger was indeed staring back at him as if they were acquaintances and Becky could be in two places at once. His usually sharp brain worked very slowly on this puzzling matter until he reached the strangest of conclusions that this woman who looked like Becky and looked at him as if they were friends was indeed she, which would mean that his colleague was not, after all, sitting at her desk in the laboratory but was, like him, journeying through the mysterious Cairngorm landscape. For the second time in his life there was a face looking at him that made no rational sense, but despite his bafflement this one was far more pleasing and would always be welcome, even though the frown took several hours to leave his brow.
‘Hello, Adam,’ Becky spoke first, failing to hold back a smile at his confused face. ‘Hoped I’d find you here – somewhere near Ben Macdui anyway.’
‘Becky? But… what are you doing here. Is something wrong?’ Surely only a disaster at work could have caused Becky to seek him out so far away and he thought of the mobile phone he had left uncharged for so many nights. His lack of anxiety over Kismet Lore affairs had been due to his faith in Becky’s abilities and sheer professional determination, but her response did not bring any clarity to the situation.
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she told him. ‘You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun out here on your own did you? You remember my pledge to visit Scotland.’
The pledge had been for Loch Lomond to be precise, but it seemed the wrong time to be arguing over specifics.
‘But this makes no sense, why…?’
‘You don’t mind me following you, Adam?’ Becky interrupted, he sensed deliberately, regarding him in a playful manner like a young child that had been found grazing on cake before a party has begun. A stranger being present might have explained her withholding of information, but her playful grin didn’t seem to fit any conclusion he could speculate upon.
Though deeply desiring to pry further, Adam’s amazement suddenly gave way to delight and he found himself laughing and embracing her. The journey to the Highlands had been in search of mystery and he had certainly found one, even if it was quite the opposite of his imaginings.
After embracing his friend, Adam noticed the amusement written all over Affleck’s face as the warden no doubt reflected on his earlier comment about girlfriends.
Nothing for it but to introduce them.
‘Alright girl, have it your way,’ he told her, ‘but don’t think I won’t keep asking. Affleck, this is Becky, a friend of mine.’
‘Pleased to meet you, ma’am,’ Affleck said, shaking her hand.
‘Affleck has just shown me a bothy I’m renting on the mountain,’ Adam explained.
‘On the mountain itself!’ Becky said, surprised. ‘Why, are you filming a nature documentary?’
‘Steady on now,’ Adam replied, not feeling shy about fighting back with secrets of his own. ‘You have your mysteries; you’ll have to let me have mine. How did you get here?’
‘By coach from Aberdeen, I spent a night there then I moved on to… Brieriach?’ she said, with a sideways glance at Affleck in order to get the pronunciation right. ‘Three hours from here. Now I have you, but you could have kept your mobile on and saved me the walk.’
‘I lost the charger,’ Adam replied, before realising the conversation had been manipulated so that he was the one explaining himself. No doubt he would have his work cut out trying to get the truth from her if she planned to stay close on the matter; there were few so skilled in debate and diplomacy when serious workplace affairs arose, a fierce intellect masked by a warm smile was a toxic ingredient he’d enjoyed having on his side on many occasions. A Steerpike with a conscience, he thought her, although a characterisation he planned to keep to himself.
For the time, however, it seemed Adam was destined to be the one lagging behind on the day’s affairs, with Affleck also proving to be more on-the-ball in remarking that they would need a lift back to Aviemore; surmising correctly that an American lady friend turning up out of the blue would change Adam’s plans to stay the night in the wilderness. Dumbfounded he would then remain throughout the course of the subsequent drive while Affleck and Becky, occupying the front seats of the vehicle, instantly got on well and managed to merge tales of the Highlands with growing up in California as if the two were in any way similar. He even became the brunt of their humour, with Affleck telling her, ‘Well you can look after him now,’ and Becky spoke as if she knew exactly what she was doing in Scotland and her supervisor was the one lost and confused.
Present as an investigator but feeling much more like Watson than Sherlock Holmes, Adam decided that his determination to get to the root of this puzzle would be done without pestering for information. As sharp-witted as Becky was, there was clearly some great need that had caused her to seek him out and his curiosity would be answered in the end.
Until then his investigator’s ego would have to put up with feeling stranded and the expedition would have to wait. The truth was that Adam did not concern himself with petty insecurities or even lament on the start of his most crucial fieldwork being ruined because he realised he had cheered up. Becky’s company brought such warmth that he had to fight against having a wide and silly grin all over his face. The order of the universe was in complete chaos and he could not recall feeling such contentment at the views and places he might be able to share a memory of as a result.
By the time they reached Aviemore he had in fact given up any notion of taking his expedition seriously, deciding instead just to enjoy Becky’s company for the evening and not to bother ruining things by asking her what kind of unassailable disaster must have occurred in the world they had left behind.
Once they had said goodbye to a cheery Affleck (Adam had given him one-hundred and fifty pounds), he decided against even a feeble effort to get more information out of her.
‘So, you’ve come to join me in my adventures.’
‘I was intrigued,’ she offered, this time seeming a bit more sensitive to his scrutiny, but he only replied that they could not have an adventure on an empty stomach and offered to buy her dinner. No more fish ‘n’ chips alone in his room, her unexpected company was far more precious than whatever wider mission God, fate or the bastions of science wished to gain from him.
‘How did you find me by the way?’ he couldn’t help ask.
‘I hoped you’d be close to the highest peak, I guess I have good tracking instincts, or perhaps men are easy to read.’
‘You could have been searching the mountains for days.’
‘You’re forgetting, it’s my job to predict your every move. I knew you wouldn’t be in any towns, tourist spots, landmarks or bars.’
‘You’ve got me sussed – certainly not bars.�
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‘I knew you’d be in the wilderness and I was going to ask the park ranger if they’d seen you once I saw the van; turns out you were with the park ranger.’
Adam had avoided eating in the inn restaurant, underestimating how solitary evenings would impact on his demeanour, but found that Becky’s arrival had driven away the blues as casually as one’s hand might a moth. In truth the approach had been questionable all along; great travel writers like Paul Theroux and VS Naipaul sought out company in order to inspire their material. Isolation had been his undoing, but his surprise dinner companion was the antidote to any infection his soul had picked up in choosing the lonely road. If only such peace of mind brought with it the power to affect the structure of the universe.
At least now the uncertainty he was burdened with seemed an easy weight to carry around as long as Becky was present, persuading him to forget his expedition for the rest of the evening in favour of enjoying her company. It might be she’d bad news to bring that would see an end to his expedition anyway, but he refused to see Becky as a force for evil, even in the most indirect way, and so did not let suspicions of fate hang over the evening.
Even for a scientist there are times when blind faith is preferable.
Bizarrely it was his expedition that ended up being the focus of conversation, emerging as a light topic beneath whatever ominous event had driven Becky to seek him out. The matter of a thirty-foot tall ghost hardly seemed important now matters of a non-paranormal nature demanded his attention, even though there remained no clue as to why Becky was 500 miles away from where she should be.
Surprising himself with a sudden openness, although in part putting Becky’s sense of incredulity to the test, Adam showed her a sketch of the fey and happily went through all the accounts of terror upon Ben Macdui as the alcohol began once again to flow quite smoothly.
The revelation did not discomfort, or even appear to surprise her. Perhaps she thought he was himself playing her at some game, but she went along with it and, as neither of them showed any sign of wanting to be elsewhere, they stayed in the bar and talked until well past closing time. Adam had switched to drinking stout, for he knew its thickness would teach him to drink slower, but Becky continued to eye him mostly through the glass of a large red wine. So it was that the extent of Becky’s real interest in the legends of Ben Macdui remained unclear, once Adam realised she was quite plastered, but up until that moment of clarity they certainly debated the matter in some depth; had anyone been paying attention they would have an insight into the thoughts of the only two respectable scientists in the land who were not tactically tight-lipped on matters of the supernatural.
First they discussed the possibility that the Grey Man could be a yeti, such as Becky was used to hearing of in the US, but concluded that if there was any truth to the stories then the presence had to have certain otherworldly qualities, rather than being a contender to extend the fossil record. The discussion then took a surprising detour from the US to Germany, as Becky recalled a folktale that might have been similar on a mountain range her family used to visit when she was growing up. Adam had heard of Harz mountain, where a reflection of shadows caused a brocken spectre to appear during certain light conditions, but he made out it was news to him in order not to look like a know-it-all and also he enjoyed Becky telling of her European ancestors; she had Scottish, German and Italian roots.
Fortunately Adam’s room happened to have two single beds, so there proved no reason to re-book once it came to closing time and they made their way upstairs still laughing and in good cheer (Becky for the most part managing to hide how drunk she was – at least to those who didn’t know her).
It was in the privacy that followed that Adam planned to request she inflate his yearning for satisfaction, concerning the mystery of her appearance, and as they entered the room he decided not to delay the request any longer.
‘I expect we’ll be staying out on the mountain tomorrow night if you really want adventure,’ Becky finished saying as they entered the room.
‘We’ll see!’ Adam said, growing ever more dubious of his reasons for being there. ‘But now I’m going to have to be a pain and ask you to come clean. I’ve answered all your questions, now it’s your turn…’
But in turning round to pry this information from her he found that Becky was already lying down on the first bed and fast asleep. Secrets would last until morning at least and the sight of her passed-out figure brought home the absurdity of that day’s events, which had managed to outdo even the fiery eyes of two nights previous. Having considered himself the drunk, he had in fact not kept up with her wine consumption and was certain that, had her arrival been due to some issue at work, she would have got round to filling him in. Why go to such great effort to seek out one’s supervisor only to toy with him?
So it turned out that, watching her sleep, he arrived at a more worrying conclusion; that Becky was with him because of something that had happened in her personal life. Typical for something dramatic to happen just as he had made himself scarce. Suddenly he felt extremely protective of her and decided that if she did not bring up the issue of her work absence in the morning then neither would he. Why ruin the mood when he was so pleased to see her? Despite what evil had occurred, to see her smiling and light-hearted – as she had to be goaded into being within a working environment she took too seriously – proved too heart warming a result to pull the rug out from under. A wish seemed to have been granted; he would now have company to share his Highland walks and adventures with. An answer to the longing he refused to spend time analysing and, as he himself lay down to rest, he permitted himself another small wish that they might be allowed but one full day without trauma or the bonds of modern life demanding their souls for further nourishment.
Not Far From Aviemore Page 8
