PW_2_2021

Article

An Unclassified Incident Ian McNeish , Central Scotland Branch & Writers’ SIG

Grant me this indulgence and I will invite you to join me on a road journey. It is an unusual road journey into the history of road travel, representing a minuscule episode. However, insignificant or not, it has elements of risk, danger, teamwork and a little humour. Although perhaps Keystone Cops might be a better description. I t took place a good few years ago and involved members of a Scottish Mountain Rescue Team, including a smattering of Police Officers, travelling on an ice bound, unclassified road, to a winter rescue exercise. The bus was full of Rally Driving experts, all keen to offer advice. The faster we careered backwards, the more advice was offered. “Throw out a parachute,” “lean out and use your ice axe” and “stop and let us out driver,” being three of the less helpful suggestions. The problem lay with the poor driver’s conscience. You see, it was a

What is an unclassified road you may ask? In reply, I ask, what is a road? One definition might be”‘a route or way to an end, conclusion or circumstance.” Given the circumstances I will describe, I cannot offer you a more apt definition. Oh, lest we forget, an Unclassified Road is officially; “any road that has not been allocated an A, B or M number.” This memorable occasion saw 10 of us packed into a mini bus, bound for our training exercise, travelling up the steep unclassified mountain road that runs from Edramucky to Aberfeldy, over a hill pass to Glen Lyon, passing near the west shoulder of Ben Lawyers. In addition to lots of snow on all the high ground, the minor roads were covered in ice, particularly the one we were on. The tactic employed was to gather speed on the main road, before turning into its unclassified sibling and keeping your foot to the floor. A straightforward enough tactic, if a tad unnerving. Our progress, whilst initially successful, started to flag as the flaw in our tactic was exposed. The wheels of our vehicle started to spin on the ice, evidenced by our slowing down, despite the engine racing, coupled with a gentle slewing motion of our bus. All this was a forerunner to the obvious; a complete loss of traction and forward motion. No matter how we all bounced about inside, and no matter what the driver did to regain traction, we slid back downhill; slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, then increasingly faster. Our vehicle was carrying a lot of weight, with a full contingent of well-equipped Mountain Rescue personnel, a fair number of ropes, a metal stretcher, and other bits and pieces of heavy kit. In no time we were hurtling backward, toboggan style, to the accompaniment of passengers yelling helpful advice at the driver; “stand on the brakes,” which he was doing anyway, then, “pull on the handbrake,” which he had already done, almost pulling it from its fixings. Then, “turn the wheel to one side and veer into the ditch.”

borrowed Community Bus and he did not want to damage it, so he was trying desperately to bring it to an undamaged and dignified halt. Meanwhile, his ungrateful passengers were less interested in the fate of the mini bus or the driver’s conscience, than they were about themselves. I was one of those ungrateful wretches. All we could envisage was the bus hurtling backwards, onto the main road, at high speed, and if we were not written off by some, passing cattle float; crashing through the fence and hurtling towards Loch Tay. Well, maybe not that far, but one’s imagination does stretch in times of stress. Our directives to veer into the ditch got through to the driver eventually and that is exactly what happened, at great speed. The van bounced about a bit before coming to rest at a crazy angle. We occupants were shaken about like dice in a gambler’s cup, exposing us to a real danger of being pierced by flailing ice axes. In the end we avoided all but some minor bumps on ourselves and a few dents on the bus. But the show had to go on, so after extricating ourselves, we grabbed our kit and headed out on foot. It was treacherous, and visions of Bambi on Ice would not have been too out of place. We finally made it to Ben Lawyers and got on with our day of training. Meanwhile, the driver and two others stayed by the stricken mini bus and waited for help. Later on, the day careered to its conclusion and we all had ‘one for the road.’ But that is another road and another story.

POLICE WORLD Vol 66 No.2, 2021

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