Glen Roy and the Corrieyairaik Pass

Thursday 28th and Friday 29th May 2026

On the day before this walk my self-made trail across the West Highlands of Scotland had taken me to Roy Bridge where I now headed into a valley that I had heard a lot about but never walked through myself. Glen Roy has a fascinating natural phenomenon in it known as parallel roads where terraces on the side of the valley have been caused by a succession of lakes after the last ice age. It is a national nature reserve so I was hopeful for an impressive sight and therefore I decided I would take my trail through the valley. On the previous two days I had taken advantage of good weather to climb over two mountain ranges, over the Mamores and the twin mountains of Aonach Beag and Aonach Mòr, but, compared with those days this was going to be a much easier day with less climbing as I kept to the bottom of the valley, which I appreciated as those days had been very tiring. Although there was still not a cloud in the sky, the winds had picked up, which indicated that the weather was about to change, and rain was forecast for the next day, so I was keen to walk as far as possible on this day to take advantage of the lingering sunshine and leave as little of the trail as possible in the rain on the last day of my trail. Initially I was just walking along a quiet road with the views blocked by trees and even when I had a view all I could see was more trees covering the valley. 

When I eventually emerged from the trees my view down the valley was initially dominated by the eastern crags of Aonach Mòr, with Aonach Beag behind, but later it was their neighbours, the Grey Corries that dominated the views behind me. Later, the parallel roads of Glen Roy began to appear, like green lines through the heather around the side of the valley, but they were so faint from where I was standing it was difficult for me to see anything interesting, though it is still amazing that something like that could be a natural phenomenon. Slowly, I made my way along the single track, unenclosed road through the valley gradually getting fed up with walking along a road, and although the scenery was fantastic I felt disconnected from it at the bottom of the valley. There is something very monotonous about walking along a road, every step the same, whereas on a trail there is constant variety, moving up and down, left and right, but on a road it is extremely tedious. I took loads of pictures of the valley but none of the pictures look particularly special. They seem to be just of a valley. Eventually the landscape at the bottom of Glen Roy became wilder, with less farmland and therefore more appealing, distracting me from the tedious road walking. 

Finally, I passed the end of the road, slowly leaving civilisation behind, although the track I was still walking on was a clear indication of its lingering remains. It was now getting rather hot, which on my previous couple of days I had countered by being at the top of a mountain where it is a lot cooler, but by staying at the bottom of a valley, sheltered from the wind, the heat was immense. Even though I appreciate the views, part of me preferred the cooler temperatures I had in the first week of my holiday. As I approached the top of the pass, I came near a bothy while my track left me by fording the river, so I had to find my way pathless until I reached a faint path that starts from the bothy, and took me over the pass to the source of the River Spey in Loch Spey. Although this is a very bleak, isolated area, there are mountains to the south that are well known, rising to Creag Meagaidh, which I climbed in 2008. I would have loved to have climbed it again as the weather had been poor on that occasion and I had considered including it on this trail, but it is not easy to get to from Glen Roy. The path widened after passing Loch Spey and became easier to walk upon, but then after crossing Shesgnan Burn I lost all trace of the path with a faint etching in the grass being all I could find, so I turned north and made my own way to a building marked on maps as Shesgnan over tussocky grass and across narrow water channels until I reached a clear track which led me between a conifer plantation and the River Spey to Melgarve.

After passing these buildings I turned left along a track that led me towards the infamous Corrieyairack Pass, which ranks alongside other legendary passes in Scotland such as the Lairig Ghru and the Devil’s Staircase. It has its origins in the military roads constructed in the eighteenth century to keep the lawless Highlanders under control and I had never walked across it before so I was keen to include it in my trail across the West Highlands and to finish in Fort Augustus on the other side. When I reached Corrie Yairack itself I put up my tent beside the stream in a delightful spot and enjoyed a lovely, sunny evening there, but the following morning the promised bad weather brought low clouds and drizzly rain. I hastily set off along the track that soon zigzags up the steep side of the corrie and over the pass alongside electricity pylons that also make use of this pass while I fought against the wind and rain. Occasional gaps in the rain were brief and welcome, especially when accompanied by the marvellous appearance of a rainbow, but eventually the weather did begin to improve. The descent took several hours and then just when the gradient steepened I realised that I had missed a turning so I had to climb back up to find the faint, missing path. With hindsight, I could have stayed on the track I was on because that was formally the military road from the Corrieyairack Pass. However, I was following a route determined for me by the O.S. Maps app, which had dictated that the military road doesn’t take the most direct route so I had to branch off towards Glen Tarff on a rough path that brought me to banks of bluebells that were poignant for me to see, because I knew I would not see any more this year.

Soon after passing the bluebells I was confronted by a locked gate and a private property notice, so I had to take a narrow path beside the fence that led me around Culachy House, and eventually brought me to a road not far from Fort Augustus. When I started planning this holiday I had tried to devise a walk across the West Highlands that compares with the Cambrian Way, which crosses Wales. It was an impossible task, if only because the Highlands of Scotland is completely different to Wales, with fewer settlements, less footpaths and more mountains. I came up with a trail that starts on Loch Fyne and ends at the southern tip of Loch Ness incorporating the Loch Lomond and Cowal Way and parts of the West Highland Way before crossing some of the mountains around Glen Nevis, and then along Glen Roy and over the Corrieyairack Pass. Despite the poor weather in the first week, it was quite successful, but does it compare with the Cambrian Way? No, partly because it is shorter, but ultimately I think it had failed before I even started because there was no anticipation. Unlike on the Cambrian Way, I wasn’t excited about the challenge ahead of me or the prospect of spending two weeks walking in the Highlands of Scotland, and that is a shame.

Aonach Beag and Mòr

Wednesday 27th May 2026

For this holiday I had devised a trail across the West Highlands of Scotland, which in the second week I had started from Glen Coe and I could have followed the valleys all the way, but after suffering with low cloud and rain in the first week of my holiday I was fortunate to now have good weather so I wanted to take advantage of it. Therefore, after camping beside the ruins of Steall in Glen Nevis, I looked up at the mountain that towered over me to the north and declared that I was going to climb it. I had previously headed up these slopes in 2016, but since I had not started until the afternoon, once the weather had cleared, I had only got as far as the Munro Top, Sgùrr a’ Bhuic, so now I wanted to go all the way. I followed the narrow path heading upstream beside the Allt Coire nan Laogh intending on following the burn all the way up, however, I veered off at a junction and ended up crossing the southern slopes on a sheep trod without making any progress uphill. Eventually I turned up the mountain and toiled up the steep slopes that were covered in heather and bilberry, sprinkled with pale violet flowers. This was very tiring, though a cold wind prevented me from getting too hot and eventually, after a lot of effort, I reached the top of the ridge that stretches west from the top of Sgùrr a’ Bhuic. Rather than turning right onto the ridge, I crossed over and followed the contour around to pick up the young burn that heads into the corrie. I had decided that some of my problems the day before had been because I was dehydrated, so at this point I made a point of replenishing my water bottles to ensure I didn’t run out of water and that my rucksack was particularly heavy.

When I reached the top of the corrie the view east across the awesome ridge of the Grey Corries was revealed to me, which repeatedly drew my eye as I slowly headed north up the ridge, following the edge of a precipitous cliff that had me feeling a little nervous as I continued to climb. When I reached the top of Stob Coire Bhealaich the steep, eastern crags of Aonach Beag and Aonach Mòr, still decorated with snow, could now be seen as I made my way along the narrow summit ridge. After chatting with a guy at the top for a while, I continued along the ridge and then turned up the slopes to reach the top of Aonach Beag, which was covered with snow and with no obvious summit marked with a cairn I was wary about getting too close to the cornices on the sheer cliff face. I could see some partially melted footsteps in the snow so I followed these to somewhere near where the summit might be and then hastily retreated towards safety, following the indentations out again. I had previously visited the top of Aonach Beag twenty years ago, out and back from Aonach Mòr, so I had been keen to climb it this time from the valley so I could more properly say I have climbed the mountain. Once off the snow I followed the clear path that zigzags down the steep, rock-filled slope to the col with Aonach Mòr, relishing every step that reminded of many mountain walks from my past and sadly not recently. These days I am reluctant to go up a mountain unless the weather is perfect, like on this day, because I know how much better it is when the weather is good. The comparison is enormous. Why would you want to go to the top of a mountain when you can’t get views like this?

After pausing for my lunch I headed up the broad slopes that led me all the way up to the summit of Aonach Mòr where I had stunning views all around, including west towards Càrn Mòr Dearg and Ben Nevis. Continuing along the broad ridge I veered towards the eastern edge following the route determined for me by the O.S. Maps app, but in 2006 I had kept to the western edge overlooking the deep valley of Allt Daim, which avoided the detritus of the ski slopes, but, of course, since there was no snow, no skiers. A very steep and long descent eventually brought me to the station at the top of the ski centre’s gondola ride, which I could have taken down, but instead I walked on a mountain bike track. When I realised this was a cycle track I came off it, until I realised that the track was in a poor state and no one was cycling down it, so I resumed my descent on the badly eroded track which eventually brought me into a wood where the hazards were even more evident. When I reached a forestry track I turned north east to get away from the ski centre and the mountain biking, and after that long, steep descent it was a relief to finally have easier walking. As I had descended I was struck by how hot it was becoming, since it is always much cooler at the top of a mountain, but it was also now much hotter than I had experienced at any point in my holiday as the heatwave that had afflicted England over the Bank Holiday weekend eventually reached the Highlands of Scotland. 

The forestry tracks took me past a quarry, whose access roads were tricky to cross, and still I kept heading north until finally my path veered right and I came alongside a railway. I had now joined the route of the East Highland Way, a little known trail that goes from Fort William to Speyside, largely following forestry tracks, such as this, but eventually the track veered south and a path continued my eastward progress until I reached a road where I turned left onto the busy A82. With no pavements I walked along the grass verge for a mile into Spean Bridge where I hoped to find something for dinner, but everywhere was closed, so I set off again along the main road taking the A86 which heads towards the Cairngorms. I didn’t go quite that far, and after at least an hour’s walking beside the road I reached Roy Bridge where I found something to eat and the campsite where I spent the night. This was a tiring day with sweltering heat once I came off the mountains, so despite trying to drink as much as possible I still felt dehydrated at the end of it. It was great to be walking at the top of mountains, especially as I don’t get to do that very often these days, and to be on mountains that I had previously visited twenty years ago, but the long walk out didn’t help.