Only the lonely – 4 Munro’s, Spittal of Glenshee to Blair Atholl

The down side of solo trips – you have to carry it all yourself!

Its seems like an age since I have written about the Munro’s having spent most of the year getting into shape for my fledgling triathlon career. With that said its been hard to get anytime to myself between working at the Commonwealth games and general job and family related issues. So with three weeks belated summer leave to use up and my wife, Rhona, working and my boy, Fergus, back at school I am determined to get into the hills for a few trips.

First things first I had the Arranman half-iron triathlon to compete in (30th August) and after successfully negotiating that I gave myself a couple of days rest deciding, perhaps foolishly, that I would be fit for a multi-day hill trip by Wednesday (3rd of September).
I have had my eyes on the Munro’s of the West Mounth in the wide open spaces between Glenshee, Breamar and Blair Atholl for some time. Some of them to the west of the ski road at Glenshee are very accessible, with The Cairnwell only a 40 minute walk from the road side and I have completed a lot in this area. However when you go beyond these initial hills the land becomes more rugged and remote and some of the Munro’s are a real long walk to get to.

My initial plan was to cadge a lift up to Spittal of Glenshee with my dad and then take in Glas Tulaichean with him after which he would head home and I would carry on to Carn an Righ before wild camping. Day two would see me cover Beinn Iutharn Mhor and Carn Bhac before dropping in to Glen Tilt to camp. Day three would cover the Tarf Munro’s of An Sgarsoch and Carn an Fhidhleir before dropping into the Tarf bothy and walking out to Blair Atholl via Carn Dearg on Saturday. It was an ambitious plan especially solo but as ever I was flexable and more than happy to change plans dependent on weather, knackerdness and any other eventuality.

So my old man picked me up at 7am on Wednesday morning and we wound our way up the A9 and then onto Glenshee through some of the most picturesque scenery our wee country has to offer. We parked at the Dalmunzie hotel for a small fee of £2.50 saving a couple of kilometeres of tarmac bashing and got ready to set off. The staff at the hotel were very friendly and wanted to know our route and when we would be back insisting that we spoke to them before leaving – nice that they cared! The manager also asked that we alter our route to Glas Tulaichean due to deer stalking in Glen Lochsie.

Atop Glas Tulaichean.

I slung my very heavy pack onto my back and we set off up Gleann Tiatneach which would add an extra two kilometees on to our route to our first peak. It was a very pleasant walk made easy by an unobtrusive estate track that took us deep into the Glen. We cut abruptly up hill to the main ridge battling through heather and tussocks without any sign of a path and once on the ridge I ditched my pack knowing that I would be returning the same way in half an hour. At two o’clock in the afternoon we were standing on the top with impressive views north to the Cairngorm and north west into the Mounth. Dad had managed the hill at an impressive pace and I can only hope when I reach his ripe old age of 68 I am half as active as him! We returned down the ridge at which point at two thirty we said our goodbyes as he returned to the car and I disappeared into the hills. This was to be the start of twenty six hours of perfect solitude!

See ya later Dad! (My old man Tony disappearing in to the distance)

I cut across peat hags and burns to reach the path to Carn an Righ at one point finding a three foot wide burn in my way. Decisions, decisions, it was too deep to ford and the choices were to circumnavigate it or jump across. Laziness won the day and I decided to jump it. I threw across my walking poles and then my pack, which only just made it before taking a run and jump at it. My right foot made the perfect landing but my left trailed knee deep in the water behind me! I sat and had a good chuckle to myself at my stupidity but my soaking foot was later to cost me dearly.

Summit selfie – Beinn Iutharn Mhor!

At ten past three I was at the bottom of the summit dome of Carn an Righ and I once again dumped my pack before skipping up the last easy kilometre and two hundred metres in height on easy ground of grass and short heather. The hill was typical of the region being domed, grassy and of no real character but from the summit the views were immense and I could see not a soul around me. Four o’clock had me back at my pack with a decision to make. Camp now or push on to Beinn Iutharn Mhor? This hill is the biggest in the region and is an impressive site of scree’s, corries and ridges. I was only two and a half kilometres and around three hundred metres from the top. Bugger it, I decided to push on this time having to lump my pack with me. I was at the top for ten past five and this summit was the highlight of the trip, its a stunning mountain with a real rugged and wild feel to it. No time for hanging about though as I was getting hungry and was eager to camp. I opted for the longer less steep route down the east ridge before cutting north and camping at a lovely spot on the Ey burn. Taking of my boots my left sock was plastered in blood, the drooking in the burn had caused me to blister deeply at my heel and I had been compensating by pushing my foot forward in my boot, this had caused bruising on my big toe that was swollen and with the toe-nail partially dislodged. Not good news.

Not a bad place to camp!

The camp was mostly uneventful with nothing other than the midges to keep me company I was fed and in bed for eight thirty. I awoke abruptly to the sound of snuffling outside about half past three in the morning I apprehensively put on my head torch and unzipped my tiny one man tent, I saw nothing but heard the distinctive sound of hooves galloping off and in the morning my camp site was surrounded by tracks and deer shit! Porridge and Coffee at six thirty had me set up for the day and I smothered my foot in plasters before gingerly pulling on my boot. Thankfully my foot didn’t feel as bad as I expected and at seven forty five I left camp.

Early morning on Carn Bhac.

I pushed on up heather and bogs finally finding a faint path to Carn Bhac arriving on the summit in weak sunshine at ten past nine. A quick breather then had me pushing on over six kilometeres of minor tops to drop down into Glen Tilt. The ground over the first three of these summits was easy going and I was enjoying a glorious walk in perfect weather although I could see clouds gathering from the south west. The last of the major tops was a little over eight hundred metres high and I then cut north west for three kilometres to a minor top of six hundred metres before dropping into the Glen. Just as I reached the last of the major tops a herd of deer down wind of me picked up my scent and spooked. It was a glorious sight, obviously being a hill goer I am used to Red deer, sometimes in significant numbers, however I have never seen a herd of this magnitude before. At least two hundred hinds and a dozen impressive stags were strung out on the hillside before me their hooves echoing like thunder as they disappeared over the ridge. I guess they are starting to gather for the rut and I managed to quickly grab a few photographs but the don’t do it justice!

After that things went down hill. The three Kilometres to the six hundred metre top were on very rough boggy ground. It took me an age to negotiate the ground it was trying and my foot was starting to throb. At half past eleven I reached the river at Allt Garbh Buidhe for a much needed lunch break. My spirits were revived by a hot meal in stunning surroundings and I took time to study the map and decide on my next move. If I wanted to continue on to the Tarf Munro’s and then the Tarf bothy I had another twenty kilometres and a lot of climbing to do. So I could try that or camp were I was or head down to Blair Atholl twenty Kilomtres down the Glen and call it a day. It was to early to camp and I knew my foot was in a bad way so it would have been folly to head back up into the hills. Dejected I took the decision to head out, the hills as always would be there to return to.

Lunch on day two.

The trek out was difficult with my now throbbing foot however spurred on by the knowledge that there was a train to Glasgow at twenty past five I got my head down and pushed on. I covered the distance in just over four hours stopping only for short rests

and to gaze on the wonderful Falls of Tarf. I made the train and had a well deserved beer on it. The conductor was the first person I spoke to in over a day!

Falls of Tarf.

The route was a total of fifty five kilometres with over three thousand metres of ascent and should be within the reaches of any competent and fit hill walker.Yeah so it was cut short, but it was a great trip in pretty much perfect surroundings and with the solitude I was after.

Mice, Men and the best laid plans – Stob Ban (Grey Corries).

Stob Ban shrouded in summer cloud.

Triathlon training has taken over my life recently and has been changing me for the better. However I don’t want this to be to the detriment of my mountaineering. Recently I have been acutely aware that after a winter decimated by poor weather I haven’t managed to get up many Munro’s and I hoped to remedy this by taking the first two weeks in June off work!

Initially the plan was to race a triathlon in the first week (see my emergency services triathlon post) and then get into the hills for the second week. I had mapped out a route of seven Munro’s between Blair Athol and Glenshee which I planned to solo hike and camp over four days covering around 80km. However a mixture of wet weather and a back injury frustrated these plans. So it was back to the drawing board to try and squeeze in a quick trip before I had to return to work. I gave Bobby a shout and pitched the idea of heading up to the Grey Corries in Lochaber to cover the three Munro’s in the range before staying overnight in the Leacach bothy and walking out the next day.

We looked at doing the trip on Friday 13th and Saturday the 14th June and I really should have known better about messing with this ominous date! We set of at a pedestrian 8am on Friday as rain was forecast for the morning with the weather to clear up as the day went on. We hoped to start walking around noon with the plan to drop down to the bothy in the late evening and initially this went well. We arrived at the Corriechoille estate near Glen Spean in plenty of time and got parked up at the side of the private road around 1km past the estate farm (this appears to be acceptable if you are heading up here). The SMC Munro guide showed a route up through the dense forest via tracks that lead up to Stob Coire an Laoigh the first Munro at 1116m then along a 3km ridge to Stop Choire Claurigh at 1177m before heading along to Stob Ban at 977m. Well that was the plan.

We left the car and headed through the woods to find that the forestry commission had been carrying out major felling and re-planting works involving the laying of several new tracks for logging lorries and equipment. My map didn’t cover the first 500m of the journey so we were relying on what we had read in the Munro guide and I made a mistake. We ended up following a new track into the forest narrowly missing the right path the entry to which was obliterated and unrecognisable due to the forestry work. We walked around 2km up 400m in height in muggy hot conditions. Eventually we came to the top of the track at a dead end in the forest were we found to forestry workers having lunch in a caravan. They were the type of guys who had clearly spent to much time alone in the woods and the film “Deliverance” sprung to mind. They were clearly bemused to see us but unfortunately their knowledge of the local area did not go any further than the forest in which they dwelled and we were forced to retrace our steps and reassess our plans. On walking down with the advantage of height we could see the path we should have taken but both agreed that we had lost more time opting to walk into the bothy to carry out the route in reverse the following day. We took a short cut across a disused railway used by the aluminium smelter in the distant past soon reaching the Landrover track that would take us the 8km up Lairig Leacach to the bothy.

There is a path Bobby!

Two hours of pleasant chat got us to the bothy in glorious surroundings and on route we passed “The Wee Minister” a wooden carved statue that replaced a stone one from the past. Apparently the minister brings luck to travellers and climbers entering the area.

Gies a kiss.

The bothy was a place of complete tranquillity and the perfect tonic for both Bobby and myself. We spent the evening relaxing and marvelling at the views at the evening sun burned off the remaining cloud. Dinner was had and wine was drunk and then we built a “henge.” I am not sure why but we did.

Leacach bothy and our “henge.”

We hoped to have the bothy to ourselves and a quick flick through the visitors book showed it to be surprisingly under used. However as we sat outside eating food and drinking wine we were soon visited by a welcome wee face. A field mouse came out the bothy wall to see us. It was a “gallus” wee mouse that seemed to have no fear of us and it was marvellous watching him come within feet of were we sat. It was like BBC “Spring watch” except the presenters were pissed and were feeding the wildlife dark chocolate which the wee mouse was running off with even though a square was nearly half his size. We named him “Colin Farell,” we were clearly drunk.

Colin Farell

An early night and an early rise saw us ready to walk at 8am although the cloud level was disappointingly low. We set off up Stob Ban via a reasonably obvious path with the hope that the cloud would burn off. It was an easy route up taking about an hour and twenty minutes and on reaching the top we were only just in the cloud cover. We sat and debated what to do and the decision was that the cloud level was unlikely to lift above the other two Munro’s which were a good 700 feet higher. Now I am a Munro bagger and am not ashamed off it, I am keen to get round all 282 of them and it would have easily been within my skill levels to navigate through the cloud to “tick” the other two. However these are two glorious mountains with an unbelievable aspect and glorious views down Glen Nevis, Glen Spean and over to the Mamores and the Nevis range. It seemed a shame not to enjoy them at their finest and I decided to save them for better weather. Bobby was pleasantly surprised by my decision and we took a gentle hike back down to the bothy for an early lunch before walking back out to the car.

Mountain top selfie.

So despite the change of plan we had a great trip. Bobby, as always, was great company and we had a great laugh whilst enjoying another wonderful wild place. Go see, you don’t need to do the hills, walk to the bothy and recharge your batteries. You wont regret it, that comes guaranteed!

Uch well until the next time……

A proud day! – Meall nan Tarmachan

My boy ready for the off!

As a parent its easy to be proud of our children waxing lyrically about their achievements usually with good reason but sometimes going over the top about the littlest things. Its easy done as nothing pleases us more than seeing our kids do well but when the excel at something we love then its all that bit more special! That was the story of my weekend as my six year old boy Fergus managed his first Munro in the company of myself and my dad.

I had wrestled with the thought of taking the wee fella hill walking for a while, but for me it always had to start with a Munro. Going had to be his choice, there is no point forcing your kids into your own hobbies as they will be instantly be turned off, however Fergus had been talking about it for a while and I decided now was the time. The weather over the May bank holiday was looking not to bad and we had a new tent to try out (more on that later) so decided to make a weekend of it with an over night camp afterwards in Killin. I had chosen Meal nan Tarmachan at 1044m as his first foray into the mountains, its a fairly short route with the car park at 400 metres or so yet remains an interesting hill with a little steep section near the summit for added adventure.

Mountain man!

My old man, Grandpa Tony, met us at the car park at eleven o’clock and we set off with Fergus resplendent in his new “Bear Grylls” trousers and top and his walking poles acquired from my dad. “Don’t be disappointed if he only gets half way, as long as he enjoys it,” was my dads mantra for the day but it soon became clear that keeping up with the wee man would be his issue! We set off quickly and I have to admit that Fergus soon had me out of breath and even more so my dad, leading Fergus to proclaim that the thin mountain oxygen wasn’t affecting him!

Gaining the ridge the wind turned chilly forcing out jackets and hats and for Fergus an opportunity to wear his new balaclava, does it get any better for a six year old? An hour had us dropping from the south top into the coll that leads onto the steeper summit and immediately I spied a possible problem. They way up was through a shallow gully however the path was buried in a large snow path forcing us up steep wet grass ledges on the right, easy on the way up but I knew they would be daunting for Fergus on the way down. I thought about heading back but the wee one was in his element and the top was within touching distance so we pushed on through the snow into the gully and onwards. The last real obstacle was a sixty feet wide snow patch which had a level area to cross but a nasty run off with a slide into a deep gully that meant real care was required. Fortunately Fergus didn’t appreciate the issue but I think the tight grip I had on his hand may have given the game away and he had his first wobble of the day. With the snow crossed we were on the final stretch and five minutes later we reached the summit at 1044 metres.

I couldn’t have been prouder and was delighted that my dad was there to share the moment.

Three generations on the summit!

We stopped for photographs while Fergus proudly told anyone that would listen that he was only six and was the record holder for the youngest Scottish boy to climb a mountain and I tell you what I was happy to let him believe it!

Daddy’s boy!

We headed back to the coll with a little difficulty having to talk Fergus through some precarious moves back through the gully we had scrambled up. A lunch of chocolate spread sandwiches and mars bars (don’t tell his mum) was quickly gobbled in the cold and we headed back to the car looking out for wild Haggis and Yeti’s to keep up his interest. Car to car was completed in an amazing 4 hours and despite all the hills I have walked or climbed on this was easily my best day!

Camp was struck in a great wee site on the banks of Loch Tay just outside Killin giving us the chance to try out our new “Talus” tent which was free gratis from North Face. I had returned a seven year old tent to them for repair and they sent me a brand new tent back, how’s that for customer service! My dad headed home and I treated Fergus to a pub dinner, reward for his excellent efforts.

The best tent is a free tent!

It rained heavily through the night but it couldn’t dampen our spirits after a great adventure and the tent held up brilliantly. We took a detour on the way home through the Trossachs visiting Rob Roy McGregors grave and taking a trip on the SS Sir Walter Scot on Loch Katrine to finish of a perfect weekend.

I hope a life of adventure lies ahead for Fergus with plenty more trips away together, he is already taking about his next mountain and I can’t wait.

Another hill at last! Beinn Teallach 18th April 2014

petesoutdooradventures

Atop Beinn Teallach in glorious Scottish sunshine.

My winter this year was almost a dead loss, stormy weather to much snow and not enough ice limited me to climbing a total of zero routes and three new Munro’s. Since my last post (Mighty Deerstalker 2014) I had one day’s skiing and a failed climb on Aonach Mor were Stuart and Bobby both superbly soloed the classic “Golden Oldie” route with myself turning back with a lingering knee injury gathered whilst running the Deerstalker. I should have been happy for them but in reality I was raging as they waxed lyrical about the perfect conditions and brilliant climbing (only kidding guys well done to both of you…….I suppose!).

So I am hoping for a better spring and summer and it started with a bang!

In January myself and the old faither went to Glen Spean to attempt the twin Munro’s of…

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Another hill at last! Beinn Teallach 18th April 2014

Atop Beinn Teallach in glorious Scottish sunshine.

My winter this year was almost a dead loss, stormy weather to much snow and not enough ice limited me to climbing a total of zero routes and three new Munro’s. Since my last post (Mighty Deerstalker 2014) I had one day’s skiing and a failed climb on Aonach Mor were Stuart and Bobby both superbly soloed the classic “Golden Oldie” route with myself turning back with a lingering knee injury gathered whilst running the Deerstalker. I should have been happy for them but in reality I was raging as they waxed lyrical about the perfect conditions and brilliant climbing (only kidding guys well done to both of you…….I suppose!).

So I am hoping for a better spring and summer and it started with a bang!

In January myself and the old faither went to Glen Spean to attempt the twin Munro’s of Beinn a Chaorinn 1052m and its little brother Beinn Teallach which at 915m scrapes in as a Munro by a solitary foot. We had a pleasant walk through the forest on a stormy and bitterly cold day but on hitting the open hillside the old man quickly faded in deep powdery snow which was making for real tough going and reluctantly we turned back. I returned a few weeks later and managed to pick of Beinn a Chaorinn after a real struggle with the snow conditions but daylight, time and the fact I was utterly knackered limited me to the one summit.

Beinn Teallach starting to appear.

With great weather forecast for Good Friday I gave Dad a shout and we arranged to go out quickly settling on Beinn Teallach as the hill for the day. As per usual when the old man drives he was keen to make an early start. I managed to reign him back to a half seven pick up and we shot north arriving at Roughburn in Glen Spean three hours later.

Significant snow fields even on the wee hills!

At this time clothing is always a conundrum. Ice axe or not, crampons or not and what clothing to wear? The road up had shown that the bigger hills still had significant deposits of snow and in fact Glencoe ski centre is still open with great cover on the majority of its runs. I opted for soft shell trousers a warm jumper and no axe or crampons and within 200m of leaving the car I was sweating like a diabetic at Easter!

A quick couple of kilometres through a pine forest had us on open ground with our hill in view. The conditions were glorious and the ground was surprisingly dry for the time of year. An hour had us heading up hill after and entertaining burn crossing and we soon found a faint hint of a path to follow up. If you plan to do this hill on its own its an easy route up what is mostly just a grassy lump but choose a nice day as the views south into the Grey Corries and Nevis Range and east onto Creag Meagaidh are astounding. We were soon treated to views that would put the Alps to shame and should swell the heart of any proud Scotsman.

The Grey Corries and Nevis Range.

Two and a half hours had us scoffing our lunch at the top sheltering from a chilling breeze but only needing light jackets. From the top looking north west the hill was more interesting with a couple of nice scalloped corries and cliffs but the views back south made the day.

We soon headed down stopping only for some photographs with myself deciding that you might like to see my cheeky wee face with the marvellous sight of Loch Trieg framed by the Essian range and Stob Coire Sgrodian. I asked the old man to take a picture and his best attempt is below;

Never give the elderly a camera!

His other two managed to capture me but not the view behind! The caption says it all……….

Here is what it really looked like!

Aint that a wee bit special?

So it was a short day and an easy hill but it was the sort of day when sitting on the summit fires your soul and fills you with plans. It was Munro 148 for me and a real pleasurable day. Eating lunch in a wild place and thinking of a big year of hill walking made me happy. I hope to reach 180 Munro’s by the end of this year with big trips to Knoydart in June and the north west in September planned amongst many other day trips.

If you fancy tagging along then I usually post my plans on Twitter so give us a follow at @Areteroute.

Cheers for reading once again!

A gloriously selfish day! – Beinn a’ Chaorainn 30th Jan 2014

Beinn a’ Chaorainn from its lower slopes.

Winter climbing and mountaineering are selfish pastimes. Equipment is expensive, your car gobbles up fuel getting to the hills, you are away for days at a time and you wilfully put yourself in to potentially dangerous situations! In short if you are a married family man (or woman) then your family are robbed of money and time whilst they sit at home worrying about you…..

Yet still we do it. You see inside every mountaineer lives a wee monster. It drives us to the mountains to seek adventure, pitting ourselves against the best routes and conditions and when we are not in the mountains we are thinking about them, checking weather conditions and hatching plans for another day out! Well what’s life without adventure?
We really do take liberties and today I was selfish. Having been back-shift for five days and hadn’t really seen my family yet I sneaked out the house at 6am and drove for three hours to Glen Spean with the hope of bagging Beinn a’ Chaorinn (1052m) and Beinn Teallach (915m)!

During the week I noticed that today was showing as a reasonable settled day and would probably be the last one for a week or so as more high winds and snow is coming in. Nobody was available for a climb so a solo Munroing trip beckoned. I started off tired this morning for the trip north having finished work late last night and then picked up my wife and sister from our local train station as they returned from a trip to the theatre in Glasgow. Judging by the smell of alcohol and the cackling and giggling emanating from them they hadn’t seen anything cultural but the upshot was only five hours in bed before my early rise this morning. Before I set off I rechecked the weather with Windy Wilson on Twitter. Windy is a Scottish legend, an amateur weather man who never gets it wrong! He also does road updates for the A9 and surrounding roads. He is well worth looking up if you are going climbing in Aviemore or Breamar as he will let you know of road closures and the like. Follow him on Twitter at @Windy Wilson88 40,000 followers can’t be wrong!
I shot up the A82 and I started to cross the Rannoch Moor as the first shafts of dawn light started to filter through revealing some magnificent red deer stags that grazing beside the road. I have seen thousands of them before but they always thrill me and every time I see one it confuses me that people shoot them for pleasure.

This one was shot with a Kodak!

So back to the hill…….
Just after 9am I was parked up at Moy in Glen Spean gearing up in 3c temperature. I quickly walked through the forest to the open hillside and it was immediately obvious that a lot of snow had fallen recently. By 450m I was in the snow line and by 500m it was complete. The snow was soft, unconsolidated and deep and without any help to break the path I was soon working hard and making slow progress, but still the wee monster inside drove me on. The depth of the snow meant it took me over an hour to gain 300m and by then I was knackered and unsure I would make the summit that was clearly in the clouds. It wasn’t until 850m that the snow started to freeze and become more manageable and at this height the constant drip of snot from my nose was almost tripping me up! I had been working so hard I hadn’t noticed the wicked wind chill that had arrived on a 25mph south easterly. In fact if I worked like this in the gym then I wouldn’t be “Fat Pete” anymore I would be a sexy Adonis! I was knackered! I pulled on my over trousers, heavy jacket, donned my crampons and swapped my walking poles for my axe then sat on my arse, curled up into a ball and took a well earned rest.

Deep feckin snow.

So far I had been following a very broad ridge upwards dancing between snow fields trying to avoid the deep drifts but at 950m or so I hit the cloud and knew I would soon be near the summit which consists of a south top at 1049m and a north top 400m away at 1052m. I took a grid reference and then followed a bearing to the south top finding a small cairn which I used to shelter from the wind. The clag was thick and I couldn’t see the other top.

The south top.

I knew the north summit was on a directly north bearing but the ridge is banana shaped with massive cornices overhanging cliffs with huge drops. Unfortunately there have been fatalities caused by these cornices and to walk on blind would be stupid. I wasn’t ready to give up yet and I sat down waiting for a break in the clouds. After 15 freezing moments I got what I needed, a 30 second view of the way forward including the cornices which were around 20 feet wide and doing a good job of masquerading as solid ground!

I virtually jogged to the north summit but couldn’t find the cairn, spending a good few minutes peering through the returned clag. I soon realised that the cairn was completely buried in deep snow and I was standing above it. A quick photograph and then I followed my foot prints back to the south summit before descending below the clouds for lunch. It felt brilliant to finally bag a summit after the miserable winter I have been having so far.

On the top! Probably…

I realised that I wouldn’t have time for the second hill and I was pretty spent from my efforts anyway. The route down was quick and uneventful and unfortunately nothing funny happened to me that I can amuse you with although I did indulge in numerous bum slides.

The drive home was a delight, late afternoon snow was bouncing of snow covered hills reflecting in beautiful hues of orange and purple. I don’t think I have ever seen Glencoe looking so gorgeous!

The “Aggy” ridge in fine condition.

Does this one need a caption?

So to sum up my day; there’s hundreds of snow in the Scottish hills and I am knackered!

Enjoy your hills folks!

My winter of discontent……….the fecking hills are shut!

The old man in weather typical of my recent trips.

The 17th of November is now a date that sticks in my mind. Why? Well it was the last time I topped out on a Munro or climbing route! ARRGGGGGHHHH!!!

Two months and six bloody days. I can’t remember the last time I waited that long between successful trips, hence the lack of recent blogs. With this in mind there is not much to tell so I will keep this relatively brief.
Winter in the Scottish mountains is a fickle beast, its either achingly beautiful or its stormy, cold, challenging and sometimes dangerous. This winter started very promisingly with a trip in very early November up a snowy Beinn Heasgarnich leading to hopes of a long cold winter of climbing but be early December low stormy fronts started to roll in off the Atlantic bringing gales and a lot of snow to the hills. Clag, avalanches and storm force winds kept most of us of the hills with only those with the spare time and tenacity to find weather gaps getting any routes climbed.

Like most mortals I have to work and it seemed that my days off collided with the worst of the weather, a set of circumstances that continued in to mid January. I managed a day in Glen Spean with my dad in late December however he was recovering from a chest infection and deep snow made for slow going so we turned back.

The view south across Glen Spean.

Last week we tried to get in to a couple of hills in the Loch Tay group but the old mans posh Audi couldn’t cope with snow on the high road in and we turned round heading back to our old faithful, The Cobbler. We spent an enjoyable few hours making our way up in blizzards and clag but turned round as the daylight faded failing to top out again.

Trying to look good on the Cobbler.

So towards the end of last week I met up with Alex Staniforth and 18 year old buy from deepest darkest Englandshire, he is off to climb Everest in March with the aim of being the youngest Brit to summit via the south ridge! A difficult task but he is training hard and is determined and I am pretty sure given the right conditions he will do it! A met him at Fort William at 8 o’clock in the morning with the aim that we would bag the three Munro’s in the Grey Corries before staying in a bothy and walking out the following morning. Again the weather decided otherwise forcing us to the indoor ice wall at Kinlochleven for a few hours before heading to the pub. We stayed overnight at Kinlochleven and then headed for Beinn Ghlas near Killin in the morning. Quickly gaining height we hit thick low cloud around 600m forcing us to head up hill through the glare of the snow fields in almost zero visibility on a compass bearing! We got to 976m in freezing storm force winds before again being forced to retreat! Bugger, bugger, bugger!

Difficult conditions on Beinn Ghlas.

So round five today. Bobby cleared his schedule and I was off for the day. We looked at the weather forecast last night and I think we both realized that we were wasting our time but desperation forced us out. We drove up to Glencoe early this morning looking for and easy grade two route that wasn’t in a gully as heavy snow and fairly mild conditions would have loaded them making avalanche a real possibility. We opted for Sron na lairig a 500m buttress climb with a reasonable easy walk in on the Lairig Eilde face. Carrying ropes and gear for the first time this year made for heavy packs and we set off in high winds that drove hail and snow into our faces. A river crossing was the first difficulty off the day as the water was high and fast and we had to jump from snow covered rock to snow covered rock trying not to slip in to the frigid waters for a soaking. We pushed on disturbing a herd of red deer before having the pleasure of watching a Golden eagle effortlessly using the high winds to soar over the buttresses looking for prey.

There is an Eagle in this picture getting mobbed by a Raven. Honestly there is!!

Our route was shrouded in clag but the few times it came into view we surveyed avalanche conditions ahead, no matter how desperate we were for a climb it wasn’t worth the risk and we turned reluctantly back and to cap it all I fell in the river on the way on the return crossing!

There is a route somewhere behind me.

So that is the tale of my very shitty winter so far. Surely it can only get better?

I leave you with one more depressing thought:

This is a picture of the litter strewn side of the road in Glencoe, its like that all the way through the glen. One of the most beautiful and accessible wild places and Scotland and its used as a dump.

People really are arseholes.

Lets hope the winter improves, see ya all later.

The days are getting short for this game! Binnein Beag.

“Dudes of Hazard” rider batters down the track.

So nobody wanted to come out to play on my day off on Sunday. Dad was probably still drunk from a whisky festival on Saturday, Bobby was shopping for a new motor bike and Stuart was working. Another solo trip into the hills beckoned.

I have really enjoyed my solo trips this year, they have rekindled my love of our wee countries wild places and the solitude has been refreshing.

My plan for this trip was to try and cover Binnein Beag and Binnein Mor in the Mamore range of hills that separates Glen Nevis and the highland village of Kinlochleven. There are ten fabulous mountains in this range characterised by sweeping narrow ridges, huge corries and steep summits, and these two would see me complete them. The only issue would be that the winter days are getting shorter and this was a big day to try and squeeze into the daylight hours. I am not adverse to coming of the hills in the dark but out on your own there is no reason to take unnecessary risks and when you couple short days with winter weather then getting out in daylight is a good idea.

With this in mind an early start was crucial but due to tiredness from my nightshift on Friday and a few beers during the day on Saturday I got up late at 6.00am with no gear packed and no diesel in my car! Doh…..
By 9.30am I was parked at sea level in Kinlochleven with my boots on ready to go but already well behind my intended schedule.

The first couple of kilometres climb 300 metres in height through a rough and in places steep and winding path through a forest. As I was making my way up 347 down hill mountain bikers were coming down one at a time at breakneck speed as part of the “Dudes of Hazard” enduro event. These guys are mental but a joy to watch, they bounce down obstacles that us mere mortals need to scramble up. It was compelling to watch for a so I took up a stance below a three foot rock step that was immediately before a sharp right hand bend where I could watch the riders skills and the ensuing carnage in equal measures. The skills and spills were awesome with the best crash being a guy who went over his bars and dropped his bike, he got up with blood dribbling from his nose and shouted “f**k I’ve wrecked my front brake” and with that he clambered back on his metal steed and shot off down the steepest part of the course with no real stopping power! Mental……

Watching the cyclists cost me another twenty minutes and I hurried off leaving the riders at the top of their course as I disappeared into the hills. That was the last human contact I had for five hours and it was great! I quickly clambered my way into Coire an Lochain were I had the pleasure of disturbing a mountain hare in its full winter regalia. I see hundreds of these in the eastern highlands but very few on the western hills and it was great to see it streaking away to hide amongst the snow patches.

A wee white mountain hare.

At this point I was under the looming presence of an old foe, Sgurr Eilde Mor, a mountain that took me four attempts to summit but I thought that I had broken the back of my trek to my first target of the day Binnein Beag. A quick check of the map showed that I was only half way there but with most of the height already gained and now on reasonably level ground in the coire I was making good progress and I soon got my first view of the summit cone of Binnein Beag.

The steep and conical summit of Binnein Beag.

The track then dropped steeply for a height of 100 metres into Coire a’ Bhinnein before gaining height as it contoured round the eastern slopes of Binnein Mor were it joined the beleach between the two summits. Having walked 9 kilometres already I took a quick stop for some water and a Mars bar and surveyed the summit of my first hill. From a distance the summit slopes are imposing and seem steep and impenetrable but as with most of these things close up the chinks in its armour become visible. From the beleach the summit was only 150 vertical metres away through steep screes with a couple of easy scrambles thrown in for good measure and I was on the top twenty minutes later.

Obligatory summit selfie.

It had taken me three and a half hours to reach this point and from here I took the opportunity to survey the summit of the Binnein Mor which was a couple of hundred metres higher and about 1.5 kilometres west of me. The direct route to the summit is usually by the steep western ridge that, according to the Scottish Mountaineering Clubs guidebook, contains and interesting scramble on sound rock. I could see that this route was covered in snow and due to the recent severe thaw I had left my climbing axes and crampons in the car. Added to that there was a weather front coming in from the west that was clearly bringing snow and low cloud with it, decision made it was time to head home.

The western ridge of Binnein Mor.

I ate my lunch and moved on marching back covering the first six kilometres quickly were I was lucky enough to meet the safety crew from the bike race earlier. They kindly gave me a lift down the final part of the hill in their Land Rover saving my now tired feet three kilometres of pain and 45 minutes of time. Thanks guys!

Dinner in the Clachaig Inn capped a great day out and I look forward to coming back soon to finish Binnein Mor. 146 Munros completed and the journey continues with the climbing season fast approaching.

Until the nest time………..

Gambling with sensibility – Beinn Heasgarnich.

Ben Challum in winter garb stands guard over Glen Lochay.

All week my twitter feed has been dominated by one word, “snow.” Its one of my favourite words as I love winter climbing and mountaineering. So like a school boy on a promise I had been pacing the floor waiting for my days off over the weekend. On Saturday I went into the loft, stowed away my summer gear and retrieved my winter equipment. I cleaned my axes, sharpened my crampons and packed my back for Sunday! Excited.

On Saturday night I sat in Pizza hut with my family and had a last glance at the now updated forecast on MWIS and the Met office. “The low pressure over the Atlantic is deeper than forecast and will bring gale force winds and intermittent blizzards.” Lumping buggery f**k. My face fell to the extent that my wife thought that somebody had died. I gave her the bad news and text my dad to let him know I wasn’t heading out (he is the guy that always knows were I am should something go wrong). As I sat no longer enjoying my pizza my wife told me that she wasn’t going to put up with me moping all through Sunday and I should go for a look and if worst came to the worst I could just have a low level walk in a glen.

With this in mind I had another look at the weather and spotted the potential for a weather window in the southern highlands. I reckoned that if I summited around one in the afternoon and quickly got off the hills I could miss the worst of the wind and be away before the blizzards really set in. My thoughts immediately wandered to Beinn Heasgarnich a 1078m lump in Glen Lochay near Killin. It was the last hill that I had to do in the southern highlands and was only 75 miles from the house so it wouldn’t be a disaster if the weather prevented me from completing it as it would be an easy return.

I got up at seven on Sunday after a poor sleep that was interrupted by gale force winds and heavy rain expecting the worst. However I blessed with crisp blue skies with little cloud, although it was very breezy as I set of at eight. Five miles from the house and I got my first glance of Ben Lomond which was cloud free and had a good dusting of snow on its upper 200m. My excitement grew even more as I passed the Crainlarich hills which were well and truly plastered. It was clear that this wasn’t the usual early season dusting but an early start to proper winter conditions! By ten o’clock I was parked near to Kenknock farm in upper Glen Lochay getting ready to set off. My excitement was soon curtailed as I slipped my feet into my stiff soled winter boots climbing boots for the first time since April. Ouch!!

Winter boots in the first snow of the season. Ya dancer!

I had 4km’s of walking over a tarmacked hydro road to get out the way before hitting the hill proper. I seen this off in an hour but was shocked by the strength of the wind as I gained the high ground between Glen Lochay and Glen Lyon. It was fierce and very cold and I began to think that perhaps my gamble was going to fail, this was compounded by the sight of dark clouds peeling in from the north west. “Uch well” I thought and decided to push on up into the hill hoping to get as far as the snow line at 700m before having to turn back. I picked my way across very boggy ground following the burn Allt Tarsuinn into Coire Ban Mor were I gained shelter from the now ferocious wind. Taking advantage of the shelter I quickly moved upwards into the snow. I was surprised at how deep and consolidated it was but I was feeling strong and fit and I pushed on. At 850m or so I was again exposed to the wind as I began to get higher than the surrounding ridges. It was full on winter conditions with spin drift darting towards me in massive plumes that stung my face and made it difficult to see. I stopped and pulled on my heavy jacket and a balaclava before reaching into my pack for my goggles. It was at this point I wished I had replaced the goggles that I had smashed last year. Doh! And with that the first blizzard blew in.

Is it really only November the 3rd?

Conditions worsen!

I knew now that I was probably pushing my luck a bit. Visibility was poor and the wind was far from ideal however it was at this point I found fresh footprints in the snow and realised that the car I had seen parked on the high road earlier was other walkers. Bugger it I was going on. The wind was now gusting so hard that the stronger blasts were close to knocking me off my feet but the mountain was a broad ridge and the worst that was going to happen was being dumped on my arse. The blizzard blew through and the sky cleared again showing me that I was only 50m or so from the summit and one last push had me on the top around 100m from the cairn. This is were the fun started!

Best summit shot I could get in difficult conditions!

The wind was the strongest I had ever been out in, scarily so. My legs were buckling under me and with every gust I had to cower down to prevent loosing my feet. The last 30 feet to shelter were almost a hands and knees crawl and I virtually threw myself behind the cairn landing on the two walkers and their dog that were huddled behind it. “Alright guys” I shouted at them into the wind, “is that your car at the road side?” And with that I negotiated a lift from the roadside back to my car!

Getting of the hill was a quick romp with the wind behind me and snow now falling in a blizzard down to 500m and I had a lovely black lab running along side me. With a lift from my new friends I was back at the car for half past three reflecting on a cracking day in which I knew that I had probably pushed the limits of what is safe on a solo trip.

Not a feck was given about the weather by this happy face!

It was a cracking start to what I hope is a long cold winter. Stay safe out there guys.

Way out East….Mount Keen.

A manly pose being struck on the summit of Mount Keen………

I have been lucky this summer and had some great trips away to the mountains, I hope you all have. If you read my blogs you will know that I bagged Ben More on Mull in June as part of the many celebrations in the run up to my 40th birthday. With Ben More being the most westerly Munro it got me to thinking that maybe I could complete all four points of the compass before the years out. Like most central Scotland based hill goers I have completed the most southerly Munro, Ben Lomond, on numerous occasions so Mount Keen, way out east, and Ben Hope, way up north have been occupying my thoughts.

Last Sunday looked to be providing a lull in the autumnal weather so I agreed with the old man that we should give Mount Keen a bash. Dad was driving and suggested a 6am start! “Whit” said me, “I have a full winter of stupid bugger o’clock climbing rises ahead of me, behave yourself and I will see you at 7!” We settled on 6.30 and off we set on the three hour drive to Angus for our hill. It seemed weird driving through Dundee to get to the mountains but we soon turned west after driving through Brechin and into more normal surroundings.

We were walking the hill from the south starting at the head of Glen Esk and the long drive is worth it for the final 15 miles of the car journey. The single track road that runs up Glen Esk through the tiny village of Edzel is something special, gorgeous views eat up the miles with wild life abundant all around. Red Squirrels, song birds, game birds and hares were numerous along with the signs informing us to drive carefully due to the wild life on the road. There was plenty of wild life on the road and not in the fields mostly of the flat and round, stuck to the road kind!

We pulled our ruck sacks out the car and got ready to head off. As per the norm my bag was much lighter than my dads who sticks by the old school rule of packing for every eventuality. Probably a more sensible approach than mine but I was confident of the weather and knew that the route into and up the hill was on good paths and I wore walking shoes as opposed to boots. I would recommend this to anyone taking on this hill in good weather as there is a Land Rover track almost to the summit and the final kilometre or so is on a well engineered gravel path. The rest of my gear was my normal summer stuff but I think its now time to head up to the loft and look out the winter attire.

Car to car the journey is around 20km’s and in all honesty this is far from the most exciting hill but there is plenty to keep your interest on route and its a lovely day out. Two and a half miles in and we came to the Queens Well. This a large crown shaped monument housing a natural spring that was built to commemorate Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort stopping for a drink sometime in the 1860’s. Apparently she was getting her fat arse dragged from Ballater on a poor highland pony on one of her many trips to appreciate the land she mostly owned, no doubt at tax payers expense. The Prince Consort drank from the well and was dead weeks later and to remain on the safe side I stuck to water from my platypus. You probably guessed I am not exactly a royalist but to be fare it is a lovely monument and worth going to see even it does seem out of place in a lonely Angus glen. Its f*%$ing huge!

Nobody builds a monument when I drink from my kitchen tap!

So far the weather had been kind with little sign of the cloud that was forecast to shroud the hills from 400m. We were walking in perfect sunshine and reasonable mild temperatures and soon we came to the split in the path were you leave Glen Mark and head up hill and north on the old Mounth drovers track that leads to Ballatar. The view west into the head of Glen Mark was stunning and in my opinion rivals almost any in Scotland.

Not a bad wee view.

A quick hike up hill had us on the crest of the moor were we left the Land Rover track and hit a newly engineered gravel path that takes you the last kilometre and a half to the summit. It really is an easy route and would be great for taking someone on their first Munro with the views into the Cairngorms being something special. Well I assume they would be but the final 150m of the hill were shrouded in clag that was being whipped in on a strong wind directly from the north. Jacket, hat and gloves were fetched from the pack and we pushed on the summit passing a curiously carved boundary stone marked with a large “B.”

We sat at the summit cairn sheltering from the bitingly cold wind and scoffed our sandwiches whilst having a chat with a guy who was only eight tops away from completing the Munro’s. At first I thought “lucky him,” but I know that I will miss being in new places when I finish my round even if the hill in question is as pedestrian as Mount Keen.

The old man on top again!

From the car to the summit had taken 2 hours 40 minutes and my old man, who has been working hard on his fitness, was delighted by this. I was more delighted to feel the first chills of winter in the air and on the way down the cloud parted long enough for us to get a cracking view of the Cairngorms holding a fair amount of unseasonable early snow. Time to get the climbing tools out the loft!

So that’s basically that. An easy day out but another Munro bagged. I intend to have a weekend away to take on Ben Hope when the first real snows come, feel free to join me.

In other news my 6 year old boy Fergus reached the top of one of our local hills to bag his first “peak.” Its only 316m and a mile from the car but it was a real “proud dad,” moment and I hope its the first of many days out to the hills that we get to enjoy together much the same as I do with my old man!

I really don’t know why he is wearring my balaclava!

Uch well until the next time stay safe and I will maybe bump into you on the hill.