Orrest Head and Wansfell

Monday 19th December 2016

As Christmas approached I eagerly anticipated the coming holiday as I would have another opportunity to go to the Lake District, but when my train finally arrived in Windermere it was to a grey and murky day with low cloud, however it wasn’t raining and it wasn’t windy and this made all the difference. When I was in the Lake District the previous Christmas, I had left on Christmas Eve by walking from Ambleside to the Windermere railway station and now at the start of this holiday I reversed that walk, but this time I did the fells that I maybe should have done the previous year. My first target was Orrest Head, a relatively small hill that overlooks the lake of Windermere, but a significant one as it is the first hill that Wainwright climbed in the Lake District and it was from the top of this hill that he gained his “first sight of mountains in tumultuous array across glittering waters, (his) awakening to beauty”. I first climbed Orrest Head more than ten years ago, Easter 2006, in good weather taking the recommended route that initially climbs up an tarmac track.

I decided that on this occasion I would take a different route this time on public footpaths rather than the permissive path favoured by Wainwright and I found that this was a delightful way on the sort of craggy paths that the Lake District has in abundance, but I sorely miss when away. Anywhere else in the country would love to have a path like this, but in the Lake District it is found on a less favoured route up a tiny hill. The path passes through gorgeous woodland and after turning right at a junction slowly climbs the hillside to the far side of the wood eventually joining the more popular route before passing through a gate dedicated to the benefactor who gave the hill to the people of Windermere. The cloud-covered summit of Orrest Head was only a short distance away where a view indicator shows what fells could be seen from the top if the clouds weren’t so low. It was disappointing to not have a view from the top of Orrest Head, but this wasn’t getting me down as I still enjoyed being back in the Lake District.

Picking a path that heads north, I descended to a stile, but rather than continuing on Wainwright’s recommended descent route, I turned left through a gate and down to the small, but delightful, St Catherine’s Wood. Although there was low cloud there was also no wind, which made the walking really enjoyable. There is a guy at work who often says to me: “Good walking weather!” even if it’s still dark outside, and on this walk, despite the low cloud, I would say that this was good walking weather because it wasn’t very windy. On reaching a quiet road I took a farmer's track from Crosses Farm, through Far Orrest to the Trout Beck Valley. I now had a bit of a view below the clouds along the valley and it looked splendid, even though it was still not as good as it could or should have been. After a short walk along the main road I came across a path that crosses the valley and was marked with a notice saying “Path damaged”. With this in mind I cautiously descended and when I reached the river at the bottom of the valley I found that the bridge had been almost washed away by the floods in December 2015. After considering wading across the river I eventually decided that I could make it across the remains of the bridge, which was lying on its side.

It was quite exciting getting across that bridge, because it was a little dangerous, but I managed to get across and climbed up the hillside to Town End and from there on bridlepaths up to Robin Lane. I had walked along this lane last year on my way from Ambleside to Windermere, but this time I didn’t take the turning towards Ambleside and rather stayed on the lane into Hundreds Road following it to where the track turns sharply, and headed off onto the pathless slopes of Wansfell. I had seen this route on the map a few years ago and thought it would make an interesting route up, but I seem to have immediately, in the misty conditions, lost the path that Wainwright’s guide claims is there. Initially I followed a series of trees that seemed to be marking a route, but these soon faded and I had to make my own way through the pathless, mist-covered landscape until I reached Nanny Lane. Just before I reached the lane the view ahead cleared to reveal a stunning panorama of the Troutbeck Valley with fog remaining in the valley and clouds clear of the summit ahead. It wasn’t a perfect thermal inversion and the scene was still dull, but at least I now had a view while walking up Nanny Lane.

This had been the route that I’d taken in descent from Wansfell when I climbed it in 2010 and I remembered then that the lane was very boggy, which is how it was now. At the end of the lane I took a path that veers away from the wall weaving a cunning and interesting route through the outcrops up the fell straight towards the summit of Wansfell. The Ordnance Survey map indicates a higher point further north, but this doesn’t look higher and it certainly didn’t seem higher when I stood at it, so I turned around and headed back to the recognized summit proceeding along the ridge towards Wansfell Pike at the western end of the fell. I wasn’t in a hurry, so I took my time enjoying myself as I slowly made my way along the ridge nipping up every little rise and enjoying the great views due to the temperature inversion. The sun was struggling to break through the clouds overhead and this managed to add a little colour to the surroundings when I finally reached the top of Wansfell Pike.

There is a route down the south-western slopes of Wansfell that isn’t marked on maps and wasn’t described in Wainwright’s guide until the most recent Walker's Edition. That describes this as the best approach for beauty, seclusion and a seldom-seen side of Wansfell, and in descent I really enjoyed it despite the fading light and mist below a certain point. It passes through landscape strewn with dead bracken, past a large cairn that overlooks Ambleside and the remains of an aqueduct observatory until finally plunging into Skelghyll Wood. The abundance of leaves on the ground made following the path through the wood difficult until I reached the main path near the top of Jenkin Crag, where I followed the bridlepath that gradually descends to the southern end of Ambleside. This was a surprisingly satisfying walk, and it was great to be back in the Lake District. Despite poor weather, a lack of wind and a view upon Wansfell had made this into a good walk in what turned out to be good walking weather.

Langdale, Uldale and Simon’s Seat

Saturday 10th September 2016

While travelling to Scotland for my holiday last September I had stopped off at a section of the Lake District that had only just been incorporated into the National Park, and while coming back I likewise stopped off in a new section of another National Park: the Yorkshire Dales. The Howgill Fells were savagely cut in half when the National Park was created with the northern fells being missed out. On first August this year the National Park was enlarged by twenty-four percent and now included the whole of the Howgill Fells in the Yorkshire Dales. I came off the motorway at Tebay and after a tiny distance stopped off in the little farming community of Longdale. Although the weather was very good with the sun shining under blue skies, it was quite clear that there had been just as much rain there as I had endured in Scotland and soon encountered paths that were thick with mud. I was following Wainwright’s direction as given in walk fifteen of his guide to Walks on the Howgill Fells, which directed me across the beck and up through a lovely wooded area into a field full of sheep.

Once I reached a track on the other side of the field I had a long, dreary walk slowly gaining height towards the heart of the Howgill Fells ahead of me. After almost two weeks of poor weather in Scotland the sun had finally come out and I had driven down under clear skies but as the day progressed it become cloudier with hazy sunshine, although this was still a welcome change after the poor weather that I had endured in Scotland. The path was initially very good, but after coming across a deep pool of water that blocked the way, the track dwindled away and I dropped onto a tiny path that climbs through the valley of Uldale. This path was very muddy being little more than a sheep trod that made this an arduous trudge as I made my way up the valley. The path never improved all the way up the valley until eventually I reached the top of the pass at Blakethwaite Bottom where the dramatic Carlin Gill snakes down from the other side of the pass. The top of the pass is marked by the Blakethwaite Stone, which doesn’t look significant, but on a map it is vitally important.

The old county boundary for Yorkshire used to follow the Carlingill Beck up to the Blakethwaite Stone and at that point turns uphill to reach the eastern ridge. The boundary of the Yorkshire Dales National Park, until recently, followed this old boundary line since it was thought that the Yorkshire Dales should be wholly within Yorkshire. However in 1974 the counties in England were radically changed and the county boundary moved so that the whole of the Howgill Fells now lies in Cumbria. For many years this old county line marked the boundary between the protected and the relatively unprotected, but now the whole of the Howgill Fells are within the protection of the National Park and I turned to climb the steep, grassy ridge following this now obsolete boundary. At the top of the ridge, on Docker Knott, I was so exhausted from the effort of the climb that I stopped and had my lunch. The walk didn’t get any easier after eating as I descended steeply into Churn Gill only to climb all the way up the even steeper bank on the other side.

Steep sided valleys and grassy ridges are the hallmark of the Howgill Fells and this walk was treating me to a clear demonstration of these steep grassy ridges. When I eventually, exhaustedly, reached the top of Simon’s Seat I could finally relax as the walk was now downhill all the way. I was on the highest peak in the newly incorporated section of the Howgill Fells and the heart of these fabulous hills could be seen clearly rising up to The Calf, the highest point in the range. That was behind me as I headed back north along the ridge that drops gradually and narrows slightly before rising to the Ordnance Survey pillar atop Middleton. The view ahead of me as I slowly descended was quite striking and I stopped several times to take in the far reaching vista and enjoy the sunshine that I had seen so little of in Scotland. At the bottom of the valley is a beautiful old footbridge made of stone that crosses a stream with an oddly familiar name: Langdale Beck.

I was now in the valley of Langdale, which is not to be confused with the Langdale in the heart of the Lake District. At the start of this holiday I walked through a Borrowdale that is not the well-known valley in the Lake District and at the end of this holiday I walked through Langdale, but not the one the tourists flock to. This Langdale is a pretty little valley with a lovely beck running through it and a smattering of trees to add to the charm. However the ground underfoot was exceptionally muddy in places which caused me quite a few difficulties, and added to all the other muddy paths that I encountered on this walk it rather soured my impression of the whole thing. The mud was worse than anything that I had seen in Scotland and really put me off the walk, which would have benefited enormously from being carried out in drier weather. The walk ended by passing through farmer’s fields back to the misappropriately named hamlet of Longdale.

Glen Ogle and Creag MacRànaich

Friday 9th September 2016

Due to another poor weather forecast I decided that my original option for this day, to climb Ben Vorlich repeating a walk that I did in 2007, would have to be abandoned. Not far from Ben Vorlich is a disused railway line through the valley of Glen Ogle that used to be an unusually pretty section of the railway. I spent a lot of time the previous evening studying a map of the area and I realised that it is possible to do a circular route through Glen Ogle and even, if the weather is kind, to bag a Corbett at the same time. When I got to the Glen Ogle car park, at Glenoglehead, it was throwing it down with rain and as I set off into Glen Ogle I started thinking about alternative plans that stayed at the bottom of the valley. It wasn’t long, however, before the rain stopped and as the sides of the valley steepened while the railway hugs tightly to the side of the hill, the weather starting turning out good. There were stunning views down the valley on this dramatic railway and I was enthralled by the railway architecture loving every moment, but Glen Ogle is only three miles long and even at a slow stroll I was at the southern end overlooking Loch Earn within an hour and a half.

At this point in the walk the weather was looking very promising and as I passed through a more overgrown section of the disused railway the sun was actually shining so I had no hesitation in reverting to the circular walk that I had planned the evening before. I came off the railway and started climbing into Glen Kendrum soon noticing signs for construction traffic: another hydroelectric scheme was being built in the Highlands. Behind me Ben Vorlich and Stuc a’ Chroin were struggling to shake off the low cloud and made me wonder what might have been. The Munros were looking quite accessible and I was almost regretting my decision to abandon my walk up these mountains. The weather the day before had been terrible and I had been expecting similar conditions for this walk, but after the rain at the start of the day I was enjoying some surprisingly good weather, however I knew that bad weather was forecast for later in the day.

The track up Glen Kendrum has been improved to allow access for the construction vehicles and this made things easier for me as I slowly made my way up the valley. The weather worsened as I climbed and inevitably, before I reached the top of the pass, it had started raining again. This didn’t put me off from trying to bag a Corbett so just before reaching the top of the pass I came off the path and made my own way up the steep slopes towards Creag MacRànaich. The hillside was very craggy and required a lot of care and thought to get up to the flatter summit ridge where a faint path appeared that I followed north through the clouds, past a cairn, and after a small descent up to another cairn that I believe is the summit of Creag MacRànaich. Sheltering behind a crag near the summit I had occasional views across the moor northwards to Killin where the sun was shining. However, at the top of this Corbett the weather was becoming very rough with strong cold winds and low clouds that soon forced me to abandon my lunch and immediately head back down onto the track.

This was not an easy descent as there is quite a distance between the summit and the track and in between there are some steep crags. When I reached the top of these crags I had no idea how I was going to get down until after making my way north for a while through the strong winds I eventually found a small break in the crags where steep grassy slopes safely led me all the way down to the track. I was very thankful to be back on this track where I was finally able to finish my lunch. With the Corbett bagged, my last peak in Scotland this year, and the weather worsening I made my way down the track following the increasingly tumultuous Ardchyle Burn down Gleann Dubh until I reached the point where the track crosses the river. By this point the burn was so full of water that I never had any thought of attempting to cross it and elected instead to stay on the right bank following a path into a conifer plantation. But my problems continued as it was soon obvious that this wood had recently been felled, which could restrict access. Carefully I made my way through the tangled branches and tree stumps keeping a look out for any active tree-felling.

I couldn’t see any sign of forestry operations so I continued to follow the burn down until I eventually reached the track of the disused railway in Glen Dochart. There were a few abandoned forestry machines beside the railway but no sign of anyone so I turned right and headed along the course of the old railway veering right at Killin Junction. Soon after passing the site of the old station I started to be able to hear the unmistakable sounds of tree-felling being carried out further up the line, therefore to avoid the forestry operations I turned around and took the lower path of the old branch line to Killin, however this diversion meant that when I reached the main A85 trunk road I had to turn right and walk beside the road for a couple of miles in pouring rain up to Glenoglehead. The heavy rain that had been promised had finally arrived and I now had to endure it until I finally reached the car park at the top of the pass. This was an astonishing walk with a fabulous start through the spectacular Glen Ogle in surprisingly good weather. Nipping up to the top of the Corbett was very challenging in the worsening weather and then more difficulties had to be overcome to avoid the tree-felling operations. This was not the best walk to finish my holiday in Scotland, but it is typical of the weather that I had enjoyed during the holiday.

The Hidden Valley of Glen Coe

Thursday 8th September 2016

Just as on the previous day I was once again unsure what walk I was going to do on this holiday where I was so often plagued with bad weather. The weather was now even worse than it had been the day before, and this time it never improved with rain falling for most of the day. After spending an hour moping around Fort William, I drove south to Glen Coe stopping off in the National Trust for Scotland visitor centre. I wasn’t impressed with what I saw so I soon left and drove a short distance up the valley to a car park for the National Trust for Scotland property of An Torr Woodland and Signal Rock. The signal rock was the site where, historically, the head of the Glencoe MacDonalds would address his clan, and according to legend was also the place where the signal was given to the Campbells to begin the Glencoe Massacre. While it continued to rain I walked across the River Coe and along a way-marked path through the An Torr woodland eventually reaching a lump of rock that is now nothing special and since it is also now surrounded by trees there are no views.

When I came into Glen Coe I had been hopeful that the weather would lift as it had done the previous days this week, and it had actually looked like the clouds were lifting above the mountains, but as the morning dragged on the rain came and went, and the clouds rose and fell in corresponding fashion. With misty views of the valley I followed a black marked trail through An Torr wood soon returning back to my car. With no sign of a lifting of the weather I drove further up the valley stopping opposite the Three Sisters, the mighty bastions of Glen Coe that guard the entrance to the hidden valley. Ten years ago I did a walk into the lost valley of Glen Coe going all the way up to the top of Bidean nam Bian, the highest point in the area. This walk had been done in low cloud and it had originally been my intention to repeat that walk now so I could actually see the hidden valley.

Despite the rain, I decided it would still be worth trying to walk up to Coire Gabhail and see if I could get a view this time. Therefore I donned all my waterproofs and headed down to the river crossing the rushing waters of the narrow gorge and up a very steep and rocky path. On the day before I had been through the Nevis gorge on a path that some have described as the best in the country, but I think this one should also have a valid claim to that honour. I loved this path that is rougher and therefore more fun, especially in the wet conditions which made things more challenging. The highlight of the path is the scenery in the closed-in valley that is really lush with moisture-loving vegetation. The stream is also spectacular with many small waterfalls and cascades that were a delight to look at while slowly walking up the steep valley. The bad weather was doing nothing to spoil my enjoyment of this walk, but I would love to have been there in good weather.

At a boulder I turned right and scrambled above it on a path that was becoming more challenging and eventually came to the foot of a scree slope. Part way up the slope I thought that something wasn’t right so I got out my map and discovered that I should have crossed the river at the boulder. The path that I was on must lead to the 692 metre top at the end of Geàrr Aonach, the middle ridge of the Three Sisters. Hastily I made my way back down the scree and scrambled back down to the foot of the boulder where I saw some people trepidatiously attempting to cross the swollen stream. I had no hesitation in immediately crossing the stream in my waterproof footwear and on the other side found a well-made path that continues to climb up the valley until I suddenly came onto a rocky ledge that overlooks the awesome sight of the Lost Valley of Glen Coe, Coire Gabhail, where the MacDonalds of Glen Coe used to hide their cattle, and the cattle of others.

Ten years ago I hadn’t seen this sight as the clouds had been too low, but despite the rain I now had a clear view across the level plain with the towering crags that soar above the valley floor. This was an amazing sight even in such bad weather and despite getting wet with the weather at this point throwing everything at me, I was enthralled at all that I was seeing. I wandered into the centre of the hidden valley, gazing around at the misty crags towering above me until eventually I turned around and headed back down the path. The weather was still showing no sign of improvement, but it had been great fun walking up and down that fabulous path. I had done very little in the morning while hoping for the weather to improve, but once I had finally decided to go for a walk I went to an awesome location on a truly great path. I must come back to Glen Coe soon and do the whole walk that I’d originally intended for this day, but in good weather.

Glen Nevis

Wednesday 7th September 2016

When I drove away from the Glen Nevis Youth Hostel at the start of this day I didn’t have a clue where I was going to be walking. It was raining when I got up with low clouds that were not an encouragement to go walking anywhere. I had a lot of poor weather throughout this holiday and I was becoming fed up with it. It is so much nicer walking up mountains in good weather, and in comparison there is no fun in being at the top of a mountain in bad weather. Although it wasn’t very windy it was still drizzly and murky; it was just plain wet and miserable. I moped around the hostel for a while trying to decide what to do, and then sat in my car for twenty minutes trying to make a decision and eventually set off down the valley road towards Fort William still not knowing where I was going. Before reaching Fort William I saw a sign for the Braveheart car park and immediately made a decision to park there and do a walk in Glen Nevis. This car park is named after the famous Mel Gibson film because it was constructed to take the film vehicles while scenes were being shot in Glen Nevis.

There are a number of way-marked walks through the woods that line Glen Nevis and start from this car park while the one that had caught my eye was the longest, the green-marked walk to Dun Deardail fort. The walk follows a wide forest track and is soon joined by the West Highland Way as it climbs above the valley floor towards the ancient hill fort. The forest track was very tedious to walk upon as it is very wide and it very gradually took me up the side of the valley into the clouds until eventually I reached the top of the pass that leads out of the valley. At this point the way-marked trail turns off the West Highland Way and keeps to the top of the ridge heading towards the vitrified Iron Age fort. Just before I reached Dun Deardail I noticed that I had risen into an eerie gap above the valley fog but below the clouds. I was in a curious bubble with dramatic views across the valley to the slopes of Ben Nevis opposite, but on top of the earthworks that are all that remains of the hill fort I was once more enveloped in cloud.

After returning to the junction with the West Highland Way, I made my way back down into the valley exploring the various narrow, unmarked, seemingly abandoned paths that maze through Glen Nevis Forest and were considerably more interesting than the forest track that I had taken earlier. When I eventually reached a track near the bottom of the valley I decided to head back to my car before heading to the Nevis Gorge, where I was keen to return. As I was driving up Glen Nevis I was astonished to see the clouds begin to break, the sun start to appear, and my heart began to sink. The afternoon was revealing itself to be warm with glorious sunshine, which is just the sort of weather for being at the top of a mountain, but I was stuck at the bottom of Glen Nevis. If I’d spent the dreary morning climbing a mountain I could have now been basking in the fabulous views from the top.

I still didn’t know where I was going to walk or how to make the most of this unexpectedly good weather, but in the meantime I stuck with my idea of walking through the stunning Nevis Gorge. Less than a week later a serious rockfall forced the closure of the path through this gorge, but fortunately I was able to enjoy this fabulous path that is described by some as being the best footpath in Scotland. Thankfully the path has now been reopened thanks to the heroic efforts of the John Muir Trust. By the time I reached the meadow at the top of the gorge overlooked by Steall Falls it was very humid and I was cooked in my waterproofs, so I stopped to have my lunch and cool down while continuing to ponder where I was going to walk. Across the river is the Munro An Gearanach and I decided that would be my target, but first I had to get across the river. On previous occasions that I have been up An Gearanach I simply stepped across the river, but there had been a lot of rain recently and it was unlikely that I would be able to cross now without getting my feet wet. There is a wire bridge but that appealed to me even less than wet feet.

Therefore, once again, I didn’t know where I was going to go walking so I just wandered up Glen Nevis towards the ruins at Steall where I noticed a path that branches off to climb towards the Munro Top of Sgurr a’ Bhuic. Finally I decided on a walk and followed the clear, though boggy, path beside the Allt Coire nan Laogh heading for a prominent prow of rock ahead of me eventually losing the path as I made my way steeply up the hillside. The views behind me of the Mamores were stunning in the sunny, humid conditions and I was having a fabulous time even though I secretly wished I was already at the top of those mountains. I have a fondness for the Mamores and would love to return to this area to reacquaint myself with the fabulous ridges that connect these great mountains. On the other side of Glen Nevis I continued to slowly climb the steep slopes until I eventually reached the top of the prow with the heat pouring off me. I could hardly move a muscle as I hauled myself up the final few steps to the tip of the western ridge of Sgurr a’ Bhuic with the summit of the Munro Top still some distance away along a rocky ridge. Slowly I dragged myself along the stony ridge that reminded me fondly of the Grey Corries.

At the summit of Sgurr a’ Bhuic the Grey Corries themselves came into view, but the glorious sunshine that I had been enjoying had gone as clouds now covered the sky and everything was dull and grey once more. Beyond the summit, the Grey Corries still looked inviting while the sprawling mass of Aonach Beag dominated the view to my left, and behind me Ben Nevis gazed upon all it commands. All the peaks in view were clear of clouds and were teasing me for my lack of preparation, but I was now amongst them, at the top of a peak more than three thousand feet high, even though it is a only a minor top of Aonach Beag. Sgurr a’ Bhuic may only be a top, but it is a Munro Top so it felt like a proper mountain and I had finally achieved something on this changeable day. This was my last three thousand footer of the holiday, and based on the stunning, albeit grey, views from the summit I considered it a good one. Happy, I made my way down to the col with Stob Coire Bhealaich dropping down to the forming stream soon picking up a path that I followed all the way back down to the ruins of Steall Hut at the bottom of Glen Nevis. Considering that most of this day I had no idea where I was going to walk and was really making it up as I went along, it eventually turned out quite well. When the day started I would never have imagined the weather that I enjoyed in the afternoon, or that I would manage to climb a peak more than three thousand feet high.

The Rois-Bheinn Ridge

Tuesday 6th September 2016

I have had my eye on this walk for many years whenever I’ve stayed near Fort William, though it has usually only been a backup and other walks have previously taken precedence. I had been waiting to do this walk for so long that it had become a must-do so it was on my original plan for my late spring holiday this year and now I have finally managed to do this long-awaited walk around these amazing mountains. There are no Munros in this area, south of the Mallaig road and railway, which Cameron McNeish says in his book “Scotland’s 100 Best Walks” means there are no real footpaths, no erosion, no lines of cairns and no roadside car parks. There are however, quite a few Corbetts and this walk climbs three on a walk that Ralph Storer describes as one of the finest ridge walks in the Western Highlands. First thing in the morning I headed off along the ‘Road to the Isles’ eventually parking at the Lochailort Inn, with kind permission.

After walking down to Inverailort I had a little difficulty finding the path until a lovely old lady, who reminded me of my Great Grandmother, told me the path was past a fallen tree that had been obscuring my view. Beyond the tree the path got a bit boggy and at the point where the track turns left at an old building, as per Ralph Storer’s instruction, I took a vague path that heads towards the gap between the foothill of Tom Odhar and the ridge coming down from Seann Chruach. It didn’t seem like anyone had been on this narrow path for a long time, which made it almost impossible to follow. It passes through some interesting wooded terrain that is delightfully wild-looking as I climbed beside a stream until eventually I reached the top of the path and found myself on a wide gravel track that was quite a surprise after the tricky climb. This provided me with an easy walk up the valley to a dam that has been built on the Allt a’ Bhùiridh, presumably for hydroelectric purposes, and after crossing the stream I headed up the laborious, grassy slopes of Meall Damh.

Usually on these instances the tedium of a long climb is relieved by listening to some music on my mp3 player, however on this occasion I had left it in the youth hostel so I had to endure the entire walk in silence, which is rather unusual for me. This meant the walk was an interesting experience for me and at times eerily quiet with the only sound being the trickle of a stream far below in the valley. It took me a long, wearying time to get up to the ridge between Beinn Coire nan Gall and Druim Fiaclach, and as I climbed up onto the latter I plunged into clouds that I had been promised would lift. Eventually I reached the summit of Druim Fiaclach where it was quite windy, very cold and there were no views, but occasionally as I made my way south-west along the ridge the clouds parted to reveal the gorgeous ridge that I was walking upon. The path on top of the ridge was very faint and difficult to follow, often disappearing so while it was encouraging when the path was visible, it was not clear enough to be relied on.

The cloud soon came down once more leaving me to practice careful navigation on the undulating ridge that veers left and right and plunges steeply on occasions such as down to Bealach an Fhalaisg Dhuibh before climbing more gradually up to An t-Slat-bheinn. It was a challenge walking on this ridge in these weather conditions, and although I quite enjoyed it I would have given anything to have had a view and to have been able to see along the whole length of this fabulous ridge. Eventually I climbed up to top of the first Corbett of this walk, Sgùrr na Bà Glaise, and on the steep descent to Bealach an Fhiona it was very windy, but before reaching the bottom of the saddle I emerged, to my great surprise, out of the clouds with the unspoilt landscape of Glen Moidart revealed to the south. On the other side of the pass I was sheltered from the wind so I was able to have an enjoyable climb up the rock-covered slopes switching several times between both sides of the ridge-top wall until I eventually reached the summit of Rois-Bheinn, but not before plunging once more into clouds.

It is recommended to go to the west top of Rois-Bheinn for the stunning views out to sea, but since the clouds were thickly covering the top I turned around and headed back down the ridge I had just climbed. My next target was An Stac, which is the other side of a deep col north of Bealach an Fhiona. I don’t think I took the right route here as I came off the ridge long before I reached the bottom of the pass and descended steep terrain where it was difficult to keep a foothold. Eventually I came upon the wall that I should have stayed beside, but I now stayed beside the wall for too long while cloud filled the trough between the Corbetts. The wall does not climb An Stac but descends the western slopes, however fortunately the unrelenting descent alerted me to my error and prompted me to check my GPS and move right towards the foot of An Stac. An opening in the clouds revealed the steep climb ahead of me up the complex slopes as the clouds slowly began to lift spectacularly from the ridge that I had walked upon earlier in the walk. The climb to the top of An Stac was entertaining, though long, and by the time I reached the summit of my third Corbett of the walk, cloud was covering the top once more.

When I moved towards the northern slopes the clouds suddenly cleared overhead revealing bright sunshine while my shadow fell onto the thick clouds below encircled by a wondrous rainbow-coloured halo. This is a Brocken spectre, which is something that I have seen on only a couple of occasions before and usually only briefly. This time the optical effect was visible for many minutes and enabled me to take countless pictures and gaze in awe at the lovely rainbow colours. Eventually I got fed up with taking pictures of it, so I started heading down the steep slopes of An Stac as the weather slowly improved with the cloud gradually lifting from the mountains all the way around me to reveal stunning views most notably along the coast across Ardnish and towards Arisaig. After my cloud-covered walk on top of the ridge, it was a welcome change to now be enjoying bright sunshine and stunning views while I made my way down the steep, grass and rock slopes of An Stac towards Seann Chruach.

This descent was lengthy and challenging with some very boggy ground to negotiate before the terrain finally eased and I was able to enjoy the relatively flat landscape of Seann Chruach. The descent continued on tussocky grass for a long time as I slowly lost height until eventually I dropped onto the access road for the hydroelectric scheme that I had been on earlier. At the point where I thought I’d joined this track I couldn’t find any trace of the path that I’d taken at the start of the walk, probably because the path is so faint. Eventually I descended on the track thinking it must go somewhere and is probably a much easier route. By carefully studying my map I was easily able to find my way back to the foot of the faint path and saw why it is no longer used, before returning to the road and back to my car. This was a very tiring walk that was also very challenging with the low cloud making navigation very difficult. It was a fantastic walk that I would love to do again so that I could enjoy some of the great views that I’ve heard can be seen from it, and to more properly experience that fabulous ridge.

Bla Bheinn

Sunday 4th September 2016

While planning this holiday I decided that I would spend a night on the Isle of Skye for no other reason than because I love this island. I was going to have a rest from hillwalking on this day which I would spend sightseeing on Skye, but the weather forecast for the following day was so poor I switched things and the walk that I had planned for Monday now got moved to Sunday. It hadn’t taken me long to decide which mountain I was going to go up on the Isle of Skye as Bla Bheinn (Blaven) is sometimes described as the best mountain on Skye, which is praise indeed as this island also boasts the awesome Cuillin Range. Bla Bheinn has much in common with its famous gabbro-encrusted neighbours but is more accessible than the fearsome Cuillin Mountains and standing a distance apart from them offers a magical viewpoint towards those razor-toothed mountains that are so loved by rock climbers. I climbed Bla Bheinn by the south ridge eight years ago, which is probably the best route, but by far the most popular route starts from the shore of Loch Slapin up the eastern slopes, and that was the route that I now took.

After driving across to the Isle of Skye I parked up in rather drizzly conditions that did not bode well for the day. There was hardly a breath of wind which encouraged the midges to come out and attack me soon after I opened the door of my car. The John Muir Trust owns the land around Bla Bheinn, and they have done an excellent job preserving the land for wildlife and improving the footpath that leads up to Bla Bheinn that had previously been famously boggy. It was a pleasure to walk on that path across the moor with the heather gorgeously decked out in its purple flowers and the Allt na Dunaiche stream in a gorge on my left. The clouds were low on all the mountains around me, which spoilt my view ahead towards the jagged line of the northern ridge of Bla Bheinn. After passing a spectacular waterfall I climbed into a wide circle of rock that had an eerie closed in feeling due to the cloud coming half way down the slope of the corrie. This was Choire a’Caise, which lies to the east of Bla Bheinn.

A clear, well-made path crosses the stream before climbing into the narrowing Coire Uaigneich with enormous, dark cliffs looming over me on both sides as I slowly made the climb. The terrain eased as I came into the spookily tranquil Fionna-choire where the well-made path vanished and I was left to find my own way on a maze of faint, contradictory paths up the rest of the mountain. My surroundings looked amazing with rock dominating in every direction and stone shoots coming steeply down into the corrie from all around. A guidebook had warned against trying to climb up the Great Scree Gully directly ahead of me that looked like the obvious route, but instead recommended that I take an emerging path that climbs the southern slopes of the east ridge. This path took me to the foot of a steep stone chimney, a narrow channel up the side of the mountain that provided me with an entertaining scramble to the foot of a great lump of rock that may have been part of the Great Prow, whatever that is.

By now I was enveloped in clouds with still a long way to go up a fabulously rock-covered terrain as O tried to find the best route up this complex mountain. Since I had no view, the climb was not particularly enthralling as I was largely making my way up loose stones with just one scrambling moment around a chock stone to enliven the proceedings. As I neared the summit the sun started to come out and blue sky appeared overhead. Eagerly I took my waterproofs off, but by now my top was soaked with sweat so I soon became so cold I had to put my cagoule back on, and as I looked back over the past few days I realised that this had happened a couple of times. Ideally a hillwalking top should allow sweat to pass through (known as wicking), but the top that I had been wearing was not doing this. A cotton top does not wick so should not be worn when hillwalking. The top that I was wearing was actually a cheap polyester top that was also absorbing my sweat and was leaving me cold and clammy. I’ll not be wearing this top again.

When I reached the summit of Bla Bheinn I had no views west towards the Cuillin ridge despite the weak sun, so instead of admiring the view I made my way south towards the col that separates the summit from the south top. Eight Years ago I had came to the summit from the south top crossing the gap on a tricky, exposed scramble, but this time when I attempted the crossing I chickened out as it just seemed too exposed. I do remember that eight years ago it was trickier going in this direction and it was only the knowledge that I had just crossed the gap not long before that enabled me to cross it then. Whatever the reason, what I could do eight years ago I couldn’t do now, so I returned to the summit of Bla Bheinn and had my lunch. The clouds were breaking to the west and offering me with tantalising, but ultimately frustrating, views of the jagged Black Cuillin while the best views were north towards the smooth-sloped Red Cuillin. Soon the clouds closed in around me once again and I decided that I would have to start making my way back down the mountain.

I made my way slowly down the mountain with a goal of avoiding the two scrambling moments that I had encountered on the ascent by taking one of the many other faint paths that I had seen during my crawl up the mountain. The chock stone was avoided surprisingly easily to the right while the stone channel was bypassed by zigzagging down to the top of a stone chute that was not the easiest thing to descend, but the experience was made as short as I could make it by keeping out of the chute for as long as possible before emerging once more in the delightful Fionna-choire and below the clouds. At the top of Coire Uaigneich I suddenly had surprising views of the sun shining on Beinn Dearg Mhór and Beinn na Caillich. While Bla Bheinn and the Black Cuillin had held onto their clouds, the Red Cuillin were basking in the sunshine and now that I was finally below the clouds I was enjoying great views of these distinctive mountains. I had a very pleasant descent in the sunshine down the rocky path into Choire a’Caise and from there down the heather-fringed path through the moor with the glorious Red Cuillin before me and the awesome crags of Bla Bheinn behind me.

I now had good views of the serrated northern ridge of Bla Bheinn over the tops of Clach Glas and Sgurr nan Each that are strictly rock climbers territory. Bla Bheinn may graciously allow mere walkers to climb it, but there are still parts of this mountain that are decidedly Cuillin in their nature. Bla Bheinn is a great, awesome mountain, and I was astonished at the complexity of the paths that lead through the rocky landscape up to the summit and enabled me to take almost a completely different route down to Fionna-choire as I’d taken up. I’m not disappointed that I didn’t manage to cross the col to the south top, but I do wish that the weather had been better so that I could have seen the astonishing views across to the Cuillin ridge, but the glorious views that I had on my descent were a welcome consolation. After all the problems that I have had with the weather on this holiday, it was great to enjoy a bit of sunshine before the rain started falling again the following day.

A’Chràlaig

Saturday 3rd September 2016

Ever since I started coming to Scotland for my walking holidays, I have used Ralph Storer’s “100 Best Routes on Scottish Mountains” as my inspiration. The day before this walk I completed walk number forty-four in the book, Ciste Dhubh, and now I attempted to do walk number forty-five, up A’Chràlaig, the highest mountain in Kintail, which begins at the point where forty-four ended, at the foot of An Caorann Mór. The path through this valley heads from Loch Cluanie to the top of Glen Affric, but I didn’t take this path and instead I veered off at a small pile of stones near the start following a narrow path that climbs the steep, grassy and very boggy ground up the slopes of Fuaran Mór Chluanidh. It had rained hard overnight, which added to the already saturated ground and made this a very wet path with even more rain falling as I started climbing. The faint, but clear, path follows a pretty, little stream that cascades down a rock channel and provided me with a pleasant distraction from the drudgery of the relentless climb.

As I neared the top of the path the weather began to improve significantly so that by the time I reached the top of the ridge there was fantastic weather before me with glorious blue skies north towards A’Chràlaig and across Coire a’ Chait eastwards towards the complex mountain chain of Sgùrr nan Conbhairean. I was basking in fabulous sunshine and could clearly see the ridge leading towards the summit of A’Chràlaig laid out before me that promised a great mountain walk, however behind me Glen Shiel was shadowed by very dark clouds that ominously foretold what was to come. After all the poor weather that I had endured on this holiday it was great to be on a mountain in glorious sunshine, but it wasn’t to last. As I started along the ridge I was hopeful that the dark clouds over Glen Shiel would lift and I would have a fabulous day, but it wasn’t long before the ominously dark clouds had enveloped everything to the south of me and soon I was surrounded by clouds once more with rain following soon after.

My glorious day had been ruined and instead I was walking along the ridge with no views, and I was getting wet. After the promise that had been shown by the sunshine, it was very disappointing to once again be walking in bad weather. As I neared the summit of A’Chràlaig the ridge narrowed becoming craggier and would have been a fun walk in good weather, but despite an easing of the strong winds that had plagued me all week the rain and low cloud meant I still had to take extra care as I made my way along the ridge. On the way I passed many small cairns and any one of them could have been the summit as in the poor visibility I would have no idea, but I kept going past all these false summits until eventually I reached a large, grand cairn that undoubtedly sits at the summit of the Munro, A’Chràlaig, but it was still raining. It can be difficult to know when you’ve reached the top of a mountain in poor weather, especially when there many cairns on the route, but this cairn is so big and impressive there is no mistaking it for anything but the summit of a big mountain.

After a pause at the summit while I regretted not being able to enjoy the views, I continued along the ridge, which now became more rocky and interesting with a few instances where I needed to put my hand to rock. The rain was making the rocks slippery so I had to be very careful as I made my way along the narrow ridge until I eventually reached the grassy dome of Stob Coire na Cràilaig where I had my lunch beside the small cairn at the top of this hill and pondered my options. There is another Munro further along the ridge, Mullach Fraoch-choire, which is on Ralph Storer’s route that I was following, but a series of rocky pinnacles called Na Geurdain have to be negotiated on the way. I was wary of tackling this jagged ridge in such poor weather and with limited visibility, plus Ralph Storer admits that it’s difficult to get off the ridge once you have reached the Munro with the most pleasant descent route actually being to return all the way back to the top that I was currently sitting on.

Since it was still raining when I had finished my lunch, and considering there was a tricky, rocky ridge to negotiate, I decided it was more prudent to come down off the ridge from where I was, on Stob Coire na Cràlaig. The weather on top of the ridge really demanded this decision, and a good walker should always be prepared to change their plans due to the weather. I will be able to come back to Kintail another time to go up Mullach Fraoch-choire in better weather conditions, but if I’d attempted that ridge on this occasion I may have had an accident and never been able to return. I kept repeating these thoughts to myself as I made my way down the steep, grassy slopes of Stob Coire na Cràlaig, however half way down the slope I came out of the clouds and the rain stopped. Soon the sun came out and the clouds began to lift from Ciste Dhubh on the other side of the pass. As I stood there contemplating the view before me of the lifting clouds I glimpsed a small herd of deer grazing on the hillside below me. I reflected that since it is deer-stalking season they were lucky that I had walking poles in my hand and not guns.

As I slowly moved down the hillside the deer moved off and I found the path that goes over the pass joining it at almost the same point that I had joined it the day before. Although the cloud struggled to clear from the tops of the Munros, it stayed dry for the rest of the afternoon while I descended An Caorann Mór on an exceptionally boggy path that eventually improved. I had been hoping for better weather on this walk and I didn’t get it, and more than that I got the worst weather of the day at the wrong time, when I was on the mountain ridge. This is a great ridge but unfortunately I wasn’t fully able to appreciate it because of the rain, and I was wary of the pinnacles as I am not keen on exposed locations. As a sole walker I do feel that I have to be more cautious than others. I don’t have a safety net if things go wrong, so consequently I take fewer risks when walking than others may take. One of these days I may actually need some sort of a safety net, but so far the thought that if I do get into trouble I’m done for has kept me out of trouble.

I was disappointed that I had abandoned this walk before reaching the second Munro and was consequently back at my car early. I tried to make the most of the mid-afternoon sunshine that had been robbed from me on the mountain by going for a stroll around Loch Cluanie after I had reached my car. I had great views across the valley towards the mountains that I had climbed over the last two days. Ciste Dhubh was hiding behind Am Bàthach and Mullach Fraoch-choire was hiding behind A’Chràlaig, but I still enjoyed getting these grand views towards these grand mountains. The weather had been very changeable with sunshine interspersed with rain on these walks, and they had both finished disappointingly early, but there was some good ridges on both walks and great views. When I first came to Glen Shiel I knew that I would need to return many times to do all the walks that Ralph Storer describes in the area, and even though I have now done almost all of those walks I know that Glen Shiel will still draw me back many more times.

Ciste Dhudh

Friday 2nd September 2016

During my first walking holiday in Scotland, back in 2004 when I did the West Highland Way, I bought a copy of Ralph Storer’s “100 Best Routes on Scottish Mountains” and ever since this has been my inspiration whenever I have been in Scotland. This definitive guidebook has directed me up over a hundred Munros and more than ten years later I am still working my way through that book. When I first came to Glen Shiel, in 2008, I was astonished by the huge number of walks in this area that Ralph Storer describes, and I knew at the time that I was going to be returning to Glen Shiel many times over the following years. Eight years after first coming to Glen Shiel I was back again and still attempting to do all the walks described by Ralph Storer in the area, starting with walk number forty-four: Ciste Dhudh. This walk actually goes over two mountains: one a Corbett, Am Bathach, which is a mountain between two and a half and three thousand feet high, and the other is the Munro, over three thousand feet high, that lends the walk its title.

The weather continued to be unkind to me on this walk as it was throughout this holiday. I couldn’t believe how lucky I had been three months before when I was in the Cairngorms as I’d enjoyed fabulous weather, but now Scotland was reverting more to its usual weather with strong winds and frequent rain. At the start of this day it was pouring with rain, again, as I drove up gorgeous Glen Shiel to a small layby just beyond the Cluanie Inn for my walk up Ciste Dhudh. I started the walk once the rain had stopped by climbing the wet, muddy, grassy slopes of Am Bathach from the road and before too long the sun had come out. I was more than happy to see the sun and embraced it warm-heartedly by lathering up with sun cream in anticipation of sunny weather all day, but I was being far too naïve as unfortunately the weather was very changeable on this walk, and the sun did not stay out. It was looking great at this point with the sun glistening on Loch Cluanie behind me and the hills around the top of Glen Shiel basking in the sunshine.

It wasn’t long before it started raining again so I had to put my waterproofs back on and traipsed up the hill onto the summit ridge with the two tops of Am Bathach in view before me and Ciste Dhudh hiding in the dark background behind. The rain continued to fall as I made my way along the ridge over the southern top and over the summit of the Corbett. My map indicates a cairn on the first top, but when I got there it seemed to have vanished only to appear on the actual summit after I had crossed the interesting, grassy ridge in the wet, miserable conditions. During the long descent from the summit, Ciste Dhudh had been brooding under dark clouds and I wondered if the weather was ever going to improve. However before I reached the bottom of Bealach a’Chòinich I glimpsed a hint of blue sky and literally jumped in the air for joy! By the time I was at the bottom of the pass the sun had come out and the rain had stopped. After crossing the complex, boggy bealach, I had gorgeous sunny views behind me of Am Bathach and the Munro of Aonach Meadhoin, which was being illuminated gloriously.

Despite the fabulous views the ground under my feet was saturated, which made for a tricky ascent as it was difficult to get a grip on the steep, boggy ground. (Actually Ralph Storer doesn’t recommend doing this walk in wet conditions due to the steep grassy slopes.) As I climbed the slopes of Ciste Dhudh, strong, cold winds began to blow that forced me to keep away from the top of the narrowing ridge and keep my eyes firmly on the ground to be sure of my footing. Strong winds had plagued me during the previous day on a narrow ridge and once again I was unable to enjoy a great mountain due to the weather, even though the sun was shining. There is nothing you can do to counter strong winds, which makes them really frustrating. Even though the sun was shining I was still wrapped up in my waterproofs as protection from the cold winds as I kept going along the narrow ridge, but I feel as if I wasn’t really being able to enjoy the spectacularly ridge as much as I could have done due to the wind. Keeping my head down I continued climbing the narrow ridge until eventually I reached the summit cairn of the Munro, Ciste Dhudh, where I had my lunch.

I could see rain falling in the distance around me, but while I was at the top of Ciste Dhudh I was in an oasis of sunshine with fabulous views. The top of Glen Affric was looking fine, but the best views were to the west towards the Five Sisters of Kintail looking picturesque seen from behind rather than from their usual vantage of Mam Ratagan and I couldn’t help thinking that the Five Sisters looked better from this direction, even if only for the novelty. Even though it was only lunch time Ralph Storer’s route now directed me to come down off Ciste Dhudh and head back towards the car, which I was loathed to do since the weather seemed so good, but there seemed little alternative. With hindsight, I think I could have returned to Bealach a’Chòinich and climbed the long slopes of Sgùrr an Fhuarail to reach the Munro of Aonach Meadhoin. This would have made a good round of An Caorann Beag, but instead I descended steep, grassy slopes to the top of An Caorann Mór. Ahead of me was the steep slopes of Mullach Fraoch-choire and I briefly considered climbing up there, but when I saw how steep the grassy slopes were I turned right at the top of the pass and headed towards the road down the valley on a boggy path that eventually improved.

The biggest problem with this walk was that it was too short, although Ralph Storer had said that it would take six and a half hours and I finished the walk in not much less than that. The rain returned during my long descent down the valley, which maybe justified my sticking to the proscribed route. The fantastic weather that I’d enjoyed on Ciste Dhudh was now a distant memory with the miserable weather of Am Bathach soon reasserting itself. The long descent gave me time to reflect on this walk and the two mountains that were climbed on it, one a Corbett and the other a Munro. I had enjoyed the ridge walk on Am Bathach, despite the rain, and the ridge on Ciste Dhudh was spectacular despite the strong winds. The sun came out, once again, before I reached my car and since there was still a lot of the afternoon left I drove down Glen Shiel and up Ratagan Pass to the usual vantage point for the Five Sisters of Kintail. This fabulous chain of mountains was looking majestic sitting in the dappled sunshine, but I still wondered whether the view from the other side with no houses or roads in sight was not better.

Beinn Sgritheall

Thursday 1st September 2016

Before this year I had not been to the top of a Scottish mountain for two years and even before that I had already begun favouring long distance walking as opposed to climbing mountains. However on my last holiday in Scotland, in May/June, I was fortunate to get good weather that gave me the opportunity to go up a few mountains and I was in awe of the experience. I had forgotten how great it is to be at the top of a Scottish mountain in good weather, so when planning for this holiday I wanted to go up as many mountains as possible, but I have found that the reason why I had fallen out of favour of going up mountains is because in Scotland the weather is often poor. The top of a mountain in good weather is the best place that anyone can be, but in bad weather it can be the worst. On this holiday I got some rather poor weather that put my memories of good weather earlier in the year firmly into the dim and distant past. I was in Scotland specifically to go up mountains, but I was experiencing weather that didn’t make me want to be up there.

When I left Torridon at the beginning of this day the weather was pretty awful and after driving over several mountain passes on single track roads I eventually reached the delightful, but isolated coastal village of Arnisdale on the shores of Loch Hourn. It was still raining with low clouds everywhere, so there wasn’t a soul in sight. This is the sort of miserable weather where no one in their right mind would go out and I was sitting in my car also not wanting to go out into the terrible weather. I questioned my sanity as I finally got out of the car and set off up the footpath that begins near the village climbing the steep hillside above. My bold move was rewarded as the rain soon stopped and held off until the end of my walk and afforded me with a much better day than I had feared. I was climbing Beinn Sgritheall, a Munro that has very steep slopes that fall precipitously all the way down from the summit to the shores of Loch Hourn.

The path above Arnisdale was very steep, very boggy and badly eroded, which made this quite a struggle for me to climb the grassy slopes even as the views slowly began to improve across Loch Hourn towards the beautiful Knoydart peninsula. Ladhar Bheinn though, and the other Knoydart mountains, were firmly enclosed in clouds as I slowly dragged myself up the steep slopes into the mountain pass of Bealach Arnasdail. To my right were the steep, craggy slopes of the Corbett, Beinn na h-Eaglaise, but my attention was on the Munro, Beinn Sgritheall, to my left, that was showing steep grassy slopes and looked impregnable. A thin path took a good route up the steep slopes until it deteriorated into a crawl straight up the steep slopes, but the climb was more than compensated by the improving views as the clouds lifted from the surrounding hills to reveal the quintessentially Scottish view of row upon row of mountains as far as the eye can see. By the time I reached the 906 metre eastern top of Beinn Sgritheall, the views east over the top of Beinn na h-Eaglaise and towards the mountains of Kintail were amazing.

The views all around me were fabulous despite the grey, overcast skies with even the Knoydart mountains now clear of clouds. Ahead of me Beinn Sgritheall was beckoning me on with a seemingly easy ridge to traverse, but as I neared the bottom of the col between the two tops I was blasted by ferocious winds that knocked me off the top of the ridge northwards and forced me to desperately find some shelter in order to recover from the shock. I took this opportunity to have my lunch in this cold and windy location before girding my loins for another attempt at the summit. I may have had clear views but the weather was still very poor as I struggled against the tremendous winds on the narrowing ridge. I was still battling against the strong winds when I reached the spot where the ridge becomes precipitously narrow and exposed falling three thousand feet almost straight down to sea and forced me to be very careful as I fought against the wind up the steep, narrow ridge until eventually I reached the summit of the Munro of Beinn Sgritheall.

The best of the views were now west out to sea towards the Isle of Skye with the ridge below me descending steeply with a good path that weaves cunningly through the steep crags. It was an absolute pleasure for me to make my way slowly down this great path with those fabulous views before me. I was now sheltered from the wind so the hardships that I had endured during the ascent were forgotten as I basked in this wonderful descent down the craggy slopes with that great view before me towards Skye. Eventually I reached the small lake of Lochan Bhealach Ràrsaidh where I veered left off the ridge onto a path that heads down the steep slopes below Beinn Sgritheall. Initially this was a great path through gorgeous purple-flowering heather with good views looking up to the top of Beinn Sgritheall showing off its sheer slopes dramatically, but it wasn’t long before the weather began to reassert itself with clouds slowly descending onto the top of Beinn Sgritheal once again. I was fortunate to have had clear views from the summit on this poor weather day.

Lower down the path enters a young wood and weaves a fascinating, though steep, course through the trees, but on the other side of the wood the path deteriorated becoming boggier and was dominated by bracken so that it was with enormous relief that I eventually reached the road some distance west of the village of Arnisdale. This had been a challenging walk on paths that were not in the best of conditions, though the descent was not as bad as the ascent. Many guidebook writers had recommended doing the walk in the other direction, but I had decided to stick with Ralph Storer’s route and I’m glad that I did because the walk benefitted enormously by having that view across to the Isle of Skye on the descent. Beinn Sgritheall is a good mountain with a memorably steep climb and sheer slopes that were quite an experience, especially in strong winds. Poor weather at the start of this walk had not made me want to go, but once I was on this steeply-sided mountain I was richly rewarded with stunning views that reminded me that Scottish mountains can be great places to be even when the weather is poor.

The Beinn Eighe Mountain Trail

Wednesday 31st August 2016

The last time that I was in Torridon I had attempted to climb Beinn Eighe, but was thwarted by high winds and poor weather. I came back to Torridon this year with the specific aim of completing that walk that I had been unable to do six years ago, but unfortunately bad weather prevented me from doing the walk again. I arrived in Torridon on the previous Monday when I attempted to walk around the tops at the eastern end of Beinn Eighe, and I hoped that I would later be able do a walk over the highest points on Beinn Eighe, the two Munros of Spidean Coire nan Clach and Ruadh-stac Mòr. This day was my last chance before moving on the following day so I was disappointed to wake up to awful weather with heavy rain that looked like it was set to stay for the rest of the day. Instead of climbing to the summit of Beinn Eighe I turned my attention to the Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve, on the eastern slopes of the mountain. Driving through the horrible weather in Glen Torridon I reached the visitor centre near the village of Kinlochewe where the rain was still falling and the midges were having a feast on unsuspecting tourists. After a brief look around I decided to move on to the starting point for the reserve trails at a car park beside the shores of Loch Maree.

The Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve was the first reserve to be established in Britain and I’d heard that there was a path in the reserve that is the only way-marked mountain trail in Britain. This had sounded intriguing and sparked my curiosity so on this wet weather day I thought it would make a good wet weather option. After picking up a leaflet for the mountain trail in the car park I headed off into the woods initially along the bank of the Allt na h-Airighe gradually climbing past tall purple-flowering heather and dense bracken with an abundance of moss everywhere. Astonishingly the rain had stopped and the sun was beginning to come out, which added to an enjoyable walk as I followed the clear path that began to climb steeply up the hillside past scots pines. After crossing another burn, the Alltan Mhic Eoghainn, the path steepened even more and rock began to cover the ground underfoot further enhancing this delicious walk.

I had great views across the valley to the other side of Loch Maree where Slioch and the mountains on the other side of the deep ravine of Gleann Bianasdail were blinking in the newly emerged sunlight. I was still relatively low so I didn’t have far reaching views, but the rocky ground underfoot made me feel like I was on top of a high mountain. Quartzite, such as is found at the top of Beinn Eighe and not usually at this low level, covered the ground and made for a fun walk as the way-marked path weaved steeply through the gorgeous rock landscape. Even though this walk ultimately doesn’t climb very high, this surprising abundance of mountain-top rocks was making this walk feel like a real mountain walk and I loved every moment of it. Eventually the path started to level off and cold winds forced me to wrap up warm for the next stage of the walk across the mountain-top-like traverse through the rocky terrain until I finally reached the summit of the walk, at the top of Leathad Buidhe where the view west suddenly revealed itself in astounding clarity.

Beinn Eighe was arrayed before me mostly clear of cloud with the eastern peaks of the mountain looking fabulous from this great vantage point. Creag Dhubh, which I’d climb two days previously, was on the left with Ruadh-stac Beag on the right while Sgurr Ban and the Munro, Spidean Coire nan Clach, lay at the far end of the corrie. This was a fabulous sight and made me long to be able to climb those mountains one day in good weather, unfortunately on this walk the rain had already started to fall again. I felt fortunate to have such a good view of Beinn Eighe on this walk despite the poor weather and lingered at the top for as long as I could to take in the view until eventually the cold and descending cloud on Beinn Eighe forced me to resume my walk along the mountain trail. Ahead of me was Meall a’ Ghiubhais whose rocks are darker, brown rather than grey, than those on Beinn Eighe due to a major earth movement that had shoved the older Torridonian sandstones on top of the younger Cambrian quartzites, which was why I had been able to enjoy a mountain-top walk on quartzite during my climb.

After passing passing Loch Allt an Daraich and Lunar Loch, the path begins to descend once again through what I thought of as less interesting scenery with less rock and more heather and devil’s bit scabious, which is the norm on mountain slopes at this height. The path follows a stream called simply An t-allt, the burn, into a deep ravine that provides enough shelter from the wind to enable relatively thick vegetation to grow in that area. With the rain continuing to fall quite heavily by this time and low cloud everywhere I made my way down the path quite unfazed by the weather. A spectacular gorge was passed before eventually I plunged once more into the wood and finally reaching the car park at the bottom of the path beside the shore of Loch Maree. This was a great, though short walk, where I had lingered on the trail, taking my time to stop and read the trail guide to get a better appreciation of my surroundings. When I’d started I’d thought that I’d be able to do some more walking afterwards, but since I didn’t reach the bottom until three o‘clock I decided to call it a day there. I had had so much fun on the climb through the mountain-top-like quartzite rocks that I didn’t feel as if I needed to do anything else. This walk had truly felt like a mountain trail even though it doesn’t climb to the top of a mountain.

Beinn Bhàn

Tuesday 30th August 2016

I had two different routes for this walk and even as I was parking my car I still hadn’t decided which one I would do. Ralph Storer’s route up Beinn Bhàn seemed too difficult to attempt so I had looked for an alternative and found a different, much easier route on the walkhighlands.co.uk website. This had been my favoured option until I got a taste of the strong winds coming off the sea and suddenly Ralph Storer’s corrie-foot walk became more appealing. From Torridon I drove over the hills and down to Kishorn where I parked just before the bridge over the River Kishorn. The walkhighlands.co.uk route would have had me walk along the road for a bit before climbing the long southern ridge of Beinn Bhàn, however I think that walk would have been better done in the opposite direction with the steepest section in ascent and the ridge then used in descent, which is always the more pleasing way to do a walk. Instead I headed north along a good path that heads along the valley towards a fish farm and ends at Loch Gaineamhach below the corries of Beinn Bhàn.

Ralph Storer (in his book “100 Best Routes on Scottish Mountains”) had said to come off the path when the first corrie, Coire Each, comes into view. Unfortunately the clouds were down so low it was difficult to see any of the corries and the path that I was on was so good I didn’t want to come off it onto the boggy, pathless moorland. Eventually I did come off the path, and possibly earlier than I should, and struggled through the rough terrain slowly climbing towards some distant location I couldn’t see. Heather, bogs and rocks abounded underfoot as I made my way up the steep terrain passing the mouth of Coire Each and Coire na Feòla. Ralph Storer would have had me go into the corries but I think I must have stayed quite low at this point and didn’t get to see all the way into these corries, though low cloud would have spoiled the effect. What I could see of the tall crags of these corries was still awe-inspiring and only improved after I rounded the end of A’Chioch and the crag-filled Coire na Poite. Ralph Storer directed me to climb right into the heart of this corrie “where two hidden lochans lie at the foot of the dramatic 350m corrie headwall”.

In view of the poor weather, I did not do this and instead crossed the bog between the corrie and the beautiful Lochan Coire na Poite whose sandy beaches would have been more enticing in warmer conditions. Passing the spur that ends in the dramatic pinnacle of A’ Phiot I climbed into the grassy Coire an Fhamair and contemplated the northern ridge of this corrie which looked like it might be a possible route up, albeit with a scramble. This is a viable route up, though it would have been better done in good weather, so I decided to stick with Ralph Storer’s route heading up the corrie to the far right-hand corner where a steep, grassy rake took me up to the summit plateau. This was an exhausting climb and I stopped frequently to look behind me at the view down the corrie and the mountains of the Coulin Forest where the sun was starting to come out. Beinn Bhàn remained under cloud and when I eventually reached the top of the corrie strong winds forced me back down into the shelter of the corrie rim where I had my lunch. By the time I re-emerged onto the summit plateau the cloud was beginning to lift and I suddenly had a fleeting view north across Loch na Beinne Bàine and the northern ridge of Beinn Bhàn.

It wasn’t long before I was once more enveloped in cloud, so turning south I headed into a bitterly cold wind as I headed towards the summit of the Corbett. In better weather I would have kept to the rim of the corries in order to get a good look into these steep, dramatic rock theatres, but with low cloud and a strong wind trying to blow me into the corries I wisely kept far from the edge as I made my way up the bleak hillside until eventually I reached the trig point that is encircled by a stone wall and marks the summit of Beinn Bhàn. Continuing south I headed towards the long ridge that the route of walkhighlands.co.uk would have had me climb. Careful navigation took me onto the narrowing ridge at the head of Coire na Feòla where the cold wind became a torrent that made standing upright virtually impossible. However on reaching the col I suddenly came below the clouds and I had a view of the edge of the corrie and the slowly descending ridge. This was an awesome sight and made me mourn for the other sights on this amazing mountain that I had failed to see due to the low cloud. On approaching a slight rise I turned back and beheld an astonishing sight as the whole of Beinn Bhàn emerged from the clouds with the sun illuminating everything.

This was an amazing sight that made me quake in my boots at the astounding rock scenery of this spectacular mountain. It was still very windy at this point even though I had brilliant views so that the pictures that I took at this point don’t give any indication of just how poor the weather was still. It is really frustrating to see such a spell-binding spectacle and not be able to truly appreciate it due to gale force winds. I could have stayed on the southern ridge all the way down to the road, à la walkhighlands.co.uk, but the winds encouraged me to come off the ridge as soon as possible following Ralph Storer’s direction, but I was careful to wait until after I’d passed Coire Each where long, steep slopes led all the way down to my car. During the descent the weather eastwards continued to improve prompting me to stop frequently to admire the view and take in the tremendous scenery. I like pathless descents, almost as much as I hate pathless ascents, so I was keen for this descent to take as long as possible, while the cloud quickly enveloped Beinn Bhàn once again and even darker clouds began to appear from the west. The usual Scottish weather was very quickly establishing itself once more on Beinn Bhàn.

I tried to make the most of this descent and enjoy the great views east towards Beinn Damh that looked so much better than what I had endured on Beinn Bhàn. This is a mountain that really deserves better weather with some absolutely awesome rock scenery that is screaming out for a return visit when I can better appreciate them. I only got a glimpse on this walk of what this mountain has to offer and in better weather I’m sure the experience would be considerably better. Away from the mountains the weather continued to improve and on my way back to Torridon I stopped off in the delightful seashore village of Shieldaig for supplies. The sun was shining brightly and in this sheltered location it felt lovely. The contrast between this tranquil place and the wind-swept summit of Beinn Bhàn was considerable so that while enjoying the warm sunshine I wished the weather had been nicer to me on Beinn Bhàn. Good weather is vitally important when hill-walking in Scotland, but unless you are able to go at a moment’s notice you are taking your chances. On this walk, and generally on this holiday, I was dealt a poor hand, but on the occasions when I did have some sunshine, such on the descent from Beinn Bhàn or at Shieldaig, I wanted to stop and enjoy every moment.