September 2011 - Walking - Munro review

 (Click the photos to enlarge).

I've just got back from another Munro trip to Scotland, to the east where the forecast was better. On the Saturday we did the six to the east of the Glenshee ski centre, and on the sunday we did the two above the Dalmunzie hotel. The last time I attempted the Glenshee eastern 6 the conditions were incredibly challenging - awkward iced turf and then thigh deep snow, strong winds, driving hail and a white-out on top, so we only managed one hill in I'm-not-sure-how-many hours. On this trip we managed all 6 in 8.5 hours. Sunday went pretty successfully too, although the predicted storm rolled in and we finished a little wet with an even wetter drive home through much standing water.

There isn't much to write about for these hills really, so instead I've decided to do a little review of the 63 Munros I've done so far. My ticking year runs from February to February (except year 1, which started in January) and I need to complete an average of 29 Munros a year to get them done before I'm 40 as planned. I'm well on track now, and I intended this to be my last trip of the year as over winter I plan to stay more local where the hills are less terrifying in winter conditions, which makes this effectively the end of year 2, so it seems an appropriate time to take stock of what I've done in that time. So in some kind of order of favouritism with my over-riding memories of each. I just want to add that the ordering has no bearing on the company, which was excellent at all times:

1 = Southern Cairngorms (Beinn Bhrotain, Monadh Mor, Braeriach, Sgorr an Lochain Uaine, Cairn Toul, The Devil's Point) 48km in 2 days.
This trip comes top because it's just a stunning area to walk in. I hadn't previously warmed to the Cairngorms (fnar...) probably because I associated it with winter trips which I never got my head round. My two climbing visits there were much enjoyable, but this was another level again. Approaching from the South gave it a new, more natural, feel (forested and no ski centre). Both Glen Dee and (inward route) Gleann Laoigh Bheag (outward route) are beautiful river valleys with turquiose waters and plenty of greenery, then the mountains are abrupt and dramatic. Sgorr and Lochain Uaine and the Devil's Point in-particular offer amazing viewpoints with steep drops below where you can sit down and drink in the situation, and the weather was stunning to match, one of only two times I've walked a Munro in shorts (well, trousers with zip off legs before I start sounding irresponsible). Unfortunately, for some reason my photos mostly show mist and snow. I also did my highest wild camp at that point at 880m.

Mini-planet of the Cuillin ridge

2 = Skye Cuillin (Sgurr nan Eag, Sgurr Dubh Mor, Sgurr Alasdair, Sgurr Mhic Choinnich, Sgurr Dearg, Sgurr na Banachdich, Sgurr a'Ghreadaidh, Sgurr a'Mhadaidh).
A big tick, although unfortunately not complete (although it's no hardship to go back!), and one I wanted to do before I forgot how to climb. Every Munro or Munro group has its own feel, but The Cuillin has a really distinctive one. It's not that remote, nor as serious as some reports would have you believe, and from various points you can see down to a town or boats or road, but no matter how close they are you feel a long way away metaphorically. The ridge is obvious, continuous and lilting, and that gives the impression of being a tangible thing, a special world, with the valley below being another world away.

Cloudless Ben Nevis summit

3 = Mamores (Mullach nan Coirean, Stob Ban, Sgurr a'Mhaim, Am Bodach, Stob Coire a'Chairn, An Gearanach, Na Gruaichean, Binnein Mor, Sgurr Eilde Mor, Binnein Beag) 34km in 2 days.
It's possibly telling that the long circuits are my favourites, but the weather has a lot to do with it to, although if the weather had been poor we would have cut down the circuit anyway. This was my most challenging trip in terms of distance, the last stretch along the road was excrutiating (at which point I would have cried if someone had suggested I do another Munro before I had recovered), but it was the most rewarding. The distance was less than the Cairngorms but there was 1.7 times as much ascent (2.5 Ben Nevisses). We were treated with lovely weather and views, just what you want on these hills. Stob Ban is probaby my favourite Munro to look at now, lovely aesthetic rounded white buttresses from the east.

The next three trips are difficult to put in order.

4 = Torridon (Sgorr Ruadh, Beinn Liath Mhor)

'Sea fire'

The most well known hills in Torridon are Liathach, Beinn Alligin and Beinn Eighe, and with due cause, as they dominate the view and rise straight from sea level, looking knife edge, rocky and inpenetrable. These two to the South don't really get a mention and aren't visible from the road, but they're aesthetic too, the former steep and stony and the latter more rounded and craggy, the terrain on both exposed but amenable. Their other appeal is that from them you get amazing views, north to the big trio, west over to Skye and the ocean beyond, and South to a mass of other peaks. I remember standing on the top of Beinn Liath Mhor as the sun was setting, turning round to see every part of the 360 degree view, before reluctantly descending as far as our wild camp, from where we also watched the dawn. The weather when I did these was unbelievable for Scotland, sunshine the whole way and shorts to match. We still managed to head up the wrong hill first, but until you're on the upper levels it isn't too clear which lump is which.

4 = Ben Nevis & Carn Mor Dearg
Tower Ridge has been on my wishlist for ages as it's a 'through route' (i.e. in the course of the route you pass through a fully enclosed hole). When I stopped climbing my list became somewhat abandoned, but I knew I'd probably still do Tower Ridge as I could tick Ben Nevis by that route. I was very keen to link it to the CMD arete, as I'd seen it from the top of Aonach Mor (a Munro I have yet to walk up, rather than ride up!) and loved the aesthetics of its Northern backbone. I didn't realise that the actual CMD arete was the other side of the summit, but it's no fun knowing it all before you go. My memories of this trip, were that the weather was poor with no views but it didn't affect the enjoyment; Tower Ridge was pleasingly non-terrifying; and the summit plateau was wonderfully eerie, with its sudden mass of people passing in every which direction and artefacts such as ruins, memorials, elevated trig points and shelters rising out of the mist.

SE Top of Meall nan Tarmachan

4 = Tarmachan Ridge (Meall nan Tarmachan)
The Tarmachan Ridge only contains one Munro but it's best done in its entirety as the 5 tops all have their own character and distinctive shapes. They were all the more beautiful cloaked in a layer of frost. There was a real camaraderie amongst the various groups of walkers as they passed on the message to avoid a particularly icy descent, although I'm sure they all thought I'd fallen to my death as I let out a might scream when a fat mouse ran out from behind a rock I was stood on, which echoed around all the peaks.

Crazy bridge on the walk in to Culra bothy (Ben Alder group)

7 = Ben Alder group (Geal-Charn, Aonach Beag, Beinn Eibhinn, Carn Dearg, Ben Alder, Beinn Bheoil)
This is a series of nice steep, shapely hills. It was my first big trip, and was quite an undertaking although didn't seem so as everything went to plan. Smooth journey up on a Friday afternoon and a cycle in to Culra bothy, 4 Munros the first day, 2 the next (we could have linked them together in one big day - you actually cover a lot more distance splitting it up - but you learn as you go), then cycle out and drive home early on Monday. I had expected to go on my own but found a partner last minute. The reason this is fairly high up in my list is was the first time that I knew that Munro bagging was for me - on the Sunday morning I awoke with an array of aches and pains and the weather wasn't exactly encouraging, but I didn't have a doubt that I wanted to stick to the plan - something I never experienced with rock climbing. It's a shame the cloud (and rain with it) was down each morning as I think the trip could have been a lot more memorable (and more deserving of this position in the list) with the potential views, but this is Scotland after all! I also encountered my first crazy bridge, there seems to a mental river crossing on each Munro trip.

It's VERY hard to order the next 11. After deciding on an ordering I notice rain features highly in 6 of the bottom 7.

Cloud inversion from Ben Chronzie

8 = Ben Chronzie
This was my first Munro in January 2008, and it was so amenable that despite a reasonable covering of snow we didn't need to don our crampons. It's billed as a boring hill, but it was pretty with ice encrusted fence posts and cairns, and we had crisp, clear views to the Ben Lawers groups and beyond to Ben Nevis and Aonach Mor. Plus we saw many mountain hares on the way back down.

Beautiful sunrise taken with iPhone

8 = Beinn Narnain & Beinn Ime
I did these two in winter and was almost out of my comfort zone. They weren't too hard, but although I have a little winter experience I don't have much winter confidence as I don't enjoy it much for the sake of it (only because it's still Munro bagging) so on the crux of this route I really could have done with a helmet and rope. Still, it worked, and although I had to leave my partner lagging behind I managed to run up and back the second Munro within the available time. More importantly, we saw the most amazing pink sunrise on the walk in.

8 = Carn Mairg group (Carn Gorm, Meall Garbh, Carn Mairg, Meall na Aighean)
This was a nice, complete day, pleasant in its average-ness - the hills neither boring nor awesome, the terrain was varied, and it makes a good circular route. It wasn't overly taxing in terms of distance, but given the available daylight in November we had to get a shift on.

8 = Ben Vorlich
I'm not sure why I have tweaked this above the others. I'm not sure my memories are representative of how I felt at the time! There was a whiteout and a bit of a blizzard, and I completely failed to manage the descent over to Stuc a'Chroin so had to send half our party on ahead as they were moving faster. Nevertheless, looking back I enjoyed it, perhaps because it was new to me (my second Munro) and I felt quite empowered - I didn't meet the challenge but I learnt what the challenge WAS (even if I then decided I preferred to walk in summer). The ridge up Ben Vorlich is quite a striking feature too, especially looking at it on the aproach, covered in snow with people glissading down it.

8 = Dalmunzie (Glas Tulaichean & Carn an Righ)
There is no real reason this one comes next. It's only because it's the one I did yesterday, and the wind blasting we got on the top of Carn an Righ made me feel really alive and I'm still buoyed up by it. And the finishing cake and hot chocolate in the Dalmunzie hotel afterwards was a suitable congratulation after a damp finish.

8 = Glenshee western 3 (The Cairnwell, Carn a'Gheoidh, Carn Aosda)
These is billed as the easiest circuit of three you can do as you start fairly high up and there isn't much ascent after the first summit. The wind had been forecast to be rather intense, but the direction wasn't quite as predicted so were were hit by it on the first hill but avoided it on the second and third. The descent was very rapid, the snow was such that we could run down and we made it to the ski centre in time for a hot chocolate. I did a few Munros in the snow in the winter of 2010/2011, not because I wanted to (I'd previously decided I'd tried winter climbing enough to learn I didn't like it, then ended up donning crampons and an axe more than ever before), but because I'd had a few cancelled trips during the summer and was quite short of my target. I still didn't quite hit it, but more than made up for it this summer.

8 = Loch Monar (Bidein a'Choire Sheasgaich, Lugh Mhor)

The Bridge of Instability

These are by far the most remote hills I've done. We walked for three days - one to a bothy, one over the Munros, and one back to the car - and saw one other party on the hill, two single houses. Ben Alder was a similar outline but Culra bothy was packed to the rafters, we were the only ones at Bearnais, identified with previous explorers via a visitors book reporting a wild moose. The weather was dreadful nearly the whole time, first we were blown over and then we were soaked from all angles, but we were treated to a beautiful double rainbow as a reward. We would have done an extra day over 2 or 3 more Munros, but the warning of lightning and horizontal hail sent us walking sodden homewards, back over the (cable) Bridge of Instability. Changing into jeans felt surreal, as if I'd been away for a lifetime rather than just a weekend. The sun came out just before we got back to the car, and we drove home under clear blue skies. Most odd.

8 = Glenshee eastern 6 (Carn an Tuirc, Carn of Claise, Tom Buidhe, Tolmount, Glas Maol, Creag Leachach)
My first, abortive attempt at these hills was memorable due to the inclemency of the weather (wind, sleet, low cloud - we got it all). The second attempt was successful. Not perfect, as we accidentally took in Tolmount and Tom Buidhe in the wrong order despite having faultless visibility, but it wasn't a drama. The hills themselves aren't very distinctive, but it was a productive day and we could see up to the Cairngorms, and we saw more hares that I've seen on any hill before.

8 = Ben More & Stobb Binnein
Ben More was steep and relentless but I enjoyed that kind of thing, feel like I'm really working.

8 = Rannoch Mor (Beinn a'Chreachain, Beinn Achaladair, Beinn Mhanach)
This was another rather damp day but satisfyingly arduous.

8 = Beinn Dubhchraig
Another winter walk that was cut short, but useful for confidence building. We ascended via the North East shoulder which was mixed terrain and quite hard going. We descended straight down the corrie bowl once we established the avalanche risk was acceptable.

19 = An Socach
The peak was a little boring, the weather was very damp, and I don't remember much about it at all!

August 2011 - Walking - Public transport antics and Mamore magic

It's a long write-up (as usual), but it's a report for me as much as anybody so I have a full account of what I've been up to, and it may be of interest to reader that want a little more detail than is usually found online! Click the photos to enlarge, the full set can be found at http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150354386845498.394069.618910497&l=ae2aff5eb3&type=1

TRAVELLING DAY

I don't recall why I decided it was time to do the Mamores, possibly because it seemed like a suitably arduous achievement to fit into a bank holiday weekend. I do know that I thought my friend Vicky might be a suitable partner as we discovered at Easter that we're pretty equally matched in terms of stamina and speed both up and downhill, and I thought she might not have done the Mamores yet living over in Aberdeen. It turns out she's already done two of them, but didn't mind doing them again and having a go at the whole circuit, as per this link. She also pointed me in the direction of Megabus with the help of which I managed to plot an entire round trip including a bit of beautiful train line, for only £56 (and it is possible to do it cheaper still), compared to £120 or thereabouts by car.

On the morning of Friday 26th August I packed, dealt with the garden and chickens, and drove over to Stoke all to a finely tuned schedule, and still managed to have to run for the train just catching the one later than planned, which I would also have missed if it wasn't running late. Thankfully a swift walk across Manchester with my various bags saw me on time for my Megabus at 12:40. There was a bit of chaos when it came to actually boarding the bus, but I manage to squeeze onto the front bus that was going direct to Glasgow, rather than the one that was stopping on route. The guy taking tickets assured me the coach had all mod cons, and it wasn't until we were about to pull away that the driver informed me the brand new toilet was out of action as someone had managed to lock the handle before closing the door. I was dismayed as I quite needed it after all my dashing about, but the driver was a nice chap and we made a stop at a service station up the motorway so those of us with weak bladders could run in and out. Nice, but not a push over as he (quite righly) chided the passengers who didn't re-board the bus after the alloted 5-10 minutes, which I was pleased about as I only had an hour in Glasgow to make my train connection. The next area of excitement was a 3 hour traffic jam near Carlisle. Thanks to phone calls, maps, iphones, and some banter, we took a couple of detours and after a bit of traffic but nothing like 3 hours of delay we were flying Northwards again. The coach journey felt like something out of a film, I got to know a couple of my fellow passengers and the drivers, and it felt like a little community on there everyone rallying together to get us to Glasgow on time, I'd happily travel to Scotland that way again in future.

Damp start but high spirits

At Glasgow I walked the short distance to Queen Street station and found they hadn't even put up the platform number yet, so I treated myself to Burger King and got chatted to a cyclist who it turned out had the seat opposite me on the train. I had been looking forward to taking this journey, part of the whole point of planning the trip the way I had, as it would give a different perspective of the mountains. It's a shame darkness had fallen by the time we diverted from the road and went across the wilderness of Rannoch Mor (my planning had various holes in it) but for the bits I did see it was nice to share it with someone who also had a passion for the outdoors. I'm keen to re-do that part of the journey another time and extend it to enjoy the Fort William to Mallaig section, which is meant to be one of the most beautiful train journeys you can do in the UK. The long journey becomes a lot less tedious if it becomes part of the adventure. I noticed quite late on that the train went through Roy Bridge, where we were staying for the night, before it got to Fort William, and I managed to get hold of Vicky just in time to divert her to meet me there instead. That saved us about 40 minutes which we made the most of by having a pint in the Stronlossit Inn, before retiring for a not-so-early night.

HILL DAY 1

Ridge from Stob Ban towards Sgorr an Iubhair 

Path to Stob Ban

We managed about 6 1/2 hours sleep before our alarms went off at 6am. We had a quick breakfast and packed and were out of the hut by 7:10, drove round to Glen Nevis, and started walking by 7:45. The day was looking overcast and discouraging and it promptly started raining, but we donned waterproofs and pressed on regardless. I had a couple of minor issues, my right achilles was complaining whenever the ground got steep, and I seemed to have acquired a minor sprain in my right wrist, but I assessed them and decided that neither were critical, and although they didn't improve much over the weekend they didn't get much worse either. We walked up through a felled forest, then up onto the ridge of Mullach nan Coirean. We were getting pretty toasty with all the uphill exertion so stripped off the waterproofs but thankfully it seemed to have stopped raining, we could even see above half of Ben Nevis behind us with a patchwork of small fluffy clouds over it. The longer we walked, the nicer the weather seemed to become. The clouds, where they weren't fluffy, were like a light lace shroud being wafted up and down over the summits, occasionally giving you views and keeping you guessing the rest of the time. There was something odd about the moments of visibility too - they seemed to happen just after we'd looked at the map or directions and worked out which direction we were heading in next, almost as if the weather was rewarding us for our navigation skills, and showing us we were right before we actually started onwards. At one point we felt a bit of warmth and looked up to see a hazy yellow disk burning a hole in the clouds until the sun appeared for real.

Stob Ban (left) from Lochan Coire nam Miseach 

We took a photo at the first summit and continued, on towards the aesthetic hill of Stob Ban. The rock changes noticeably from red granite to pale grey quartzite between these two and the path and ridges become more defined. Near the summit we were passed by two friendly RAF lads doing the Ramsay round who we had a chat with when we all paused at the cairn for a quick bite to eat. They headed on first and we followed a little later, only we hadnít gone very far when I noticed the way ahead was descending to the valley floor. A quick halt and a check of the route description told us weíd missed a turning, so we turned round and walked the other way a little so we could take stock of our bearings. Something about doing that made the entire world flip 180 degrees in my head, and itís quite an odd sensation not being able to marry up a single item between the view and the map. Suddenly the reality dawned on my, just as Vicky pointed out we were facing the way weíd come up, and I righted myself ñ weíd been going the correct way in the first place, just forgot to hook a sharp left down a shapely ridge that in fact Iíd already paused to take a photo of! After a little way we dropped off the ridge and descended gradually to lochan coire nam miseach, then zigzagged up the other side, dumping our bags at the top so we could travel lightly out and back along the spur of the Devil's Ridge. This is billed as both exposed and scrambly - we found it neither, but nevertheless it was lovely, a flat path on a pointed ridge, which crosses over a couple of rocky bits then ascends steeply up the grass flanks of Sgurr a' Mhaim. The views now were becoming more impressive, with the shapely peak of Stob Ban above the green lochan the most dominant.

Munros ahead from the Devil's Ridge. Sgorr an Iubhair (ex Munro on right), Am Bodach (pointy one against sky), Stob Coire a' Chairn (pointy one against black), An Gearanach (left), Na Gruagaichean (black peaks back right) and Binnien Mor (black peak back left)

Vicky against the backdrop of the Devil's Ridge

Back at the bags we had a quick lunch, then summited Sgorr Iubhair which used to be a Munro but got demoted in 1997. The short stretch over to Am Bodach was pretty straighforward. At the top rain threatened again, and a chap that was travelling in the other direction looked a little harried after the ascent he'd just done that we were about to go down, saying it would be even worse in the wet, so we were a little nervous about it. It was actually completely fine, the ground was steep but it wasn't overly loose, foot placements were flat and on an obvious path and there were always things to hold on to. After this little blip in the weather we had the best weather so far, blue skies with puffy clouds passing over the summits, some appearing to emanated straight from the Ben Nevis summit, and elsewhere suns rays picking out various features on the hills' flanks and on the valley floor. I'm not sure that I appreciated them enough as I'd just realised that I'd mis-counted and we'd only done 4 Munros not 5, so I was feeling a bit dejected. Thankfully though it wasn't far to Stob Coire a' Chairn, which was the real number 5 and I perked up a bit.

Clouds over Ben Nevis

Steep but reasonable descent off Am Bodach

Next up was the second spur out to An Gearanach via An Garbhanach. This was also billed as being scrambly, and this time it was. From afar it looked reasonably tricky but as we neared we noticed a path up the side of rocky triangle outlining the initial ascent up. The path then continued along the righthandside of the crest, but we followed the rocks in the purest line straight along the needle edge of the crest, which was reminscent of the Cuillin with its pointed rocks which sloped away to either side. After An Garbhanach the terrain was grassy again, and took us onto our sixth summit of the route, we were really making progress now. The route description said this was an excellent viewpoint so we rested for a minute or two to take in our surroundings, Ben Nevis right in front of us. We returned directly along the path for the sake of speed, starting to become aware of the time, we no longer had seemingly endless daylight to play with.

An Garbhanach (front) and An Gearanach (back)

Scrambling on An Garbhanach

Back at the bags we sat for a little more food and to come up with a plan. The route here contoured round Stob Coire a' Chairn that we'd already done, rose just a little and rejoined the ridge heading to Na Gruagaichean. This section was about 1km so we decided to time it to see what kind of speed we were currently walking at. Then we'd know what we could achieve in the remaining daylight. It took us 35 minutes from 6pm to 6:35, rather slow, but it wasn't exactly representative as first we'd had to find the path, and then I'd stopped to fill my waterbottle up in the stream - it's very unusual for me to run out of water, especially when the amount I was carrying normally lasts me a full weekend, but it had been a hot day. Ideally we'd hoped to manage 8 Munros and camp down by Coire an Lochain but this was now looking a bit ambituous. That aim was more so that we could make the most of the better weather and have less to do in the forecasted rain the next day, rather than because we actually needed to split it up that way to achieve the full set, so it didn't matter if we camped elsewhere. We picked out a couple of other options from the map, all places with the necessary running water for cooking. We eliminated the coire bowl to the north of Na Gruagaichean as it was directly in the wind, and instead decided to bag that summit, head past it to the bealach then drop down to the South to the streams there. And this we did, despite the weather worsening - the wind was picking up and the rain forced us to stop to don waterproofs again. We practically flew over Na Gruagaichean's top and the summit itself. Between the two there was a little unpleasant ground across a little notch - steep and loose - but it was soon over. As we scrambled up the last bit of ascent, zigzagging up boulders on an indistinct path, the light was noticeably fading and I was panicking a little. I was encouraging Vicky to move faster as time was against us and was aghast when at the summit she said she was hungry and wanted to stop to make a sandwich. I plied her full of dried apricots which I had to hand and after the essential photo I shood her off down the crest towards the bealach. The path down looked fine and the rain had lifted again, but our intended camping spot was still hidden behind out of sight and I didn't feel I could relax until I knew the terrain. As we descended there was a beautiful sight to my left. The area was darkening except for a single, wide, bold, orange sunbeam passing from the northern flank of Na Griagaichan in a gradual diagonal down to the ground. It was so long you had to move your head to see the whole thing. There wasn't time to stop and take a photo so I committed it to memory and I think the sight is now permanently ingrained in my head, not something I'll not forget for a while!

Catching breath on An Gearanach, Grey Corries in background

 Munro no.  6 An Gearanach in front of Ben Nevis

We reached the bealach thankfully quickly as the path was good, and there on our right we could see, as hoped, some flat ground with a couple of streams, and also a little lochan. My spirits lifted, then I relaxed almost entirely when we were looking for a nice way to descend and Vicky spotted a zigzag path taking us down. The last of the light seemed to linger and we actually had plenty of time to pitch the tent exactly 12 hours after setting off, and start cooking. The highs and lows continued though, as the rain started for real causing us to huddle with the stove in the not-very-sheltered open porch, and the dinner was disgusting. So disgusting that it turned Vicky's stomach and she was poorly for a few hours. We kind of took it all in our stride though, as you don't really have much choice in that situation. Vicky eventually managed to crawl into bed, and eventually we both managed to fall asleep, although I keep waking with an unexplained pain below my right knee - it seems I'd bumped it earlier in the day and it didn't like lying down. Despite finding a sheltered spot to camp the wind must have turned because occasionally a significant gust shook the tent. It held up surprisingly well though considering how lightweight it is, and we remained in relative comfort.

Sun beam into Kinlochleven

Wild camp

HILL DAY 2

Munro no. 8 Binnein Mor

We had plenty of hours in the tent but it wasn't all relaxing so we didn't make a particularly early start. We started rising at around 7, and didn't start walking until 8:45. My knee was causing me a little trouble but eased off after some ibuprofen. First stop was Binnein Mor's south top, then the rocky path to the main summit. Binnein Mor is the highest Mamore but there isn't actually much height gain to it as you're already pretty high. Still, it seemed to take forever to get to, but thankfully much quicker to return from. As we conginued to Sgurr Eilde Beag, Sgurr Eilde Mor's south west top, we noticed that the mist was lifting and the day proved to be better than we'd expected, although it was cool enough and damp enough that we left our waterproofs on all day.

On the scree up Sgurr Eilde Mor 

Where I got blown over on Sgurr Eilde Mor

The route description we were following said to descend this top direct, down the steep rib to the lochan below, but I had a go at the start of it twice and really didn't like it - it was steep, loose and there wasn't anything to hold on to. Of course Vicky just waltzed down it, but I called her back and we decided to take an easier but longer descent, a sweeping path that also led to the lochan. I felt a bit uncomfortable about having avoided that descent, as I previously believed that I can manage any summer walker's ascent of a Scottish mountain (it's a whole different thing in winter, even an easy slope can stop me in my tracks, even with crampons on), but I consoled myself by reminding myself that this is only one man's suggestion and not an accepted route. Sgurr Eilde Mor proved to be reasonably challenging mountain. We followed a path that zigzagged up from the lochan, taking us first over scree on a reasonable path, then up steepening red dirt and pebbles to a high ridge. It was never certain whether we had enough purchase on the gravel to move up more than we moved down, and I wasn't looking foward to coming back down it afterwards. I was pleased when we reached the rocky path on the final narrow ridge to the summit, but the wind had picked up even more and was gusting across us. I had a real heart in mouth moment when I was blown off the side of the path and fell backwards over the rocks. It was a real out of control moment where I knew I was at the mercy of fate. As I was falling I remember spotting a particular rock that I thought I could grab hold of to stop me falling off the back of the mountain, but thankfully I stopped before needing to grab it. I held on to steady myself before standing up, and flashed Vicky a look of stunned, terrified relief. We carried on carefully up and back down, not stopping at the summit except for the obligatory photo. The descent of the loose ground was actually way better than expected, and easier than the ascent had been. The wind was blowing into our faces and kept us upright, which made us feel a lot more stable. Also I employed a technique I'd learnt on the descent down An Dorus on the Cuillin Ridge, of keeping my back and body upright and straight, and driving my heels into the loose ground on each step. For the first time ever I felt like I'd improved at going down hills, something I've always been slow at, as I experienced the new sensation of placing a second foot while the first was still moving, usually I won't move a foot until the one I've just placed is solid.

The descent I didn't do and Coire an Lochain

Munro no. 10 Binnein Beag

We branched off the path just before the lochan and took a shortcut over to the good path which lead round the flanks of Binnein Mor and over to the little lochan in the col between that and Binnein Beag. This was easy going and was a welcome relief, and I felt like we were on the path home now, even though we still had one Munro left to bag. Binnein Beag is the smallest Munro on the route but you start from quite low so it has the second most ascent on the circuit. We followed a path all the way up though, which made the passage through the boulders trivial. It wasn't the most obvious of paths but I seemed to have a sixth sense in finding it, a subconscious assessment off logical line, lighter rocks with signs of wear, different kind of rocks imported in or moved and levelled ground on scree, all observations made experience in the hills. The descent after summitting was rather exciting though. Straight down the west rib, which looked, and was, just a loose red gully. At one point it steepend more but Vicky led us left down grassy ledges and we reached the plateau to a tiny lochan. From here we tramped the heathery, boggy ground north west for some distance to the Water of Nevis, thanfully not stranding ourselves on any of the small rocky cliffs that were scattered about along the edge of the river. We looked for a crossing point, first going upstream then deciding to follow some trodden ground downsteam a bit. This led us to a shallower section and we waded across. Amazingly I only received a tiny trickly of water down each boot, probably because I was still wearing my waterproof trousers which created a seal, I'd expected to get totally swamped.

Overjoyed to be back at the car

Crossing the Water of Nevis

Following the Water of Nevis the views were quite varied so that kept us entertained but it still seemed to take an age just to reach the Steall bridge. We started to encounter other people so we knew we were nearing civilisation again, but perhaps due to the harder ground my feet were starting to hurt and the going was getting tough. As we walked along the tourist track past the pretty cascades of Glen Nevis that I'd last seen in the snow 5 years ago the achilles of my right leg, blister on my left instep, and squashed heels of both feet were vying for the title of most painful injury. There was then nearly 3km of road which I just knew would go on forever. I stuck my thumb out whenever a car past but nobody seemed inclined to stop so we accepted our fate and trudged along, struggling to speak. As we travelled I reflected that it was only experience that told me I would do another Munro, because at that precise moment it wasn't a concept I could even consider, I was all Munro-ed out. We'd done 10 Munros and 7 Tops over 22 hours with a wild camp, covering 34km with 2.5x Ben Nevisses in ascent (3400m). Desperation made me pick up the pace, and finally the car suddenly appeared closer than I'd expected, and 9:45 after setting off. With deep joy I pulled off my boots, to find, with less joy, the soles of my feet were white, wrinkly and hard - the onset of trenchfoot? Who knows. A baby wipe and some clean socks and they started to feel better already. We drove back to Aberdeen via Aviemore where we stopped off at an Australian restaurant, where Vicky had an American dish and I had a Chinese one. Very Scottish. Then we snatched a few hours kip at Vicky's before she took me to the bus station for 7am. I slept for the first half, pretty soundly considering the transport, then a nice lad from Bangladesh sat next to me and offered me a headphone so I could watch 'Seven Years in Tibet' with him. I gratefully accepted and was in Manchester before I knew it. I didn't have to rush this time, so sat down for a pizza before I boarded my train. The walk back to my car at the other end was uphill and difficult and I was dying for a wee, so I experienced all kinds of relief when I got home, and the chickens seemed to be getting on better too! A memorable trip, for sure.

July 2011 - Walking/Climbing - Ben Nevis

Skimming stones behind the CC hut

This trip was many things to me. It was the highest Munro, not to mention the highest mountain in the UK (Ben Nevis); it was a route that has been on my wishlist for ages not least because it counts as a through route, i.e. going through a fully enclosed hole (Tower Ridge); it was the neighbouring Munro that I'd wanted to do since I saw its aesthetic profile when I stood on top of Aonach Mor in winter a few years ago (Carn Mor Dearg arete), it was a trip with two friends I no longer see as often as I'd like to, and it was another step closer in achieving my aim of ticking all the Munros before I'm 40. Simon and Claire arrived at mine on the Friday evening, and we enjoyed some of my home-made alcohol beverages and discussed the route. On Saturday morning I attempted to prep us for the long drive with butcher's bacon and home-made tiger bread, then we began the drive up to Fort William. We arrived at a reasonable time, did a bit of shopping, moved up to the hut at Roy Bridge, Si and Claire whipped us up a tasty curry, then we had a wander along the river, and were in bed by 9 without getting too badly devoured by midges.

Things had gone well so far, but that was the easy bit. Sunday morning started early, but inauspiciously. We woke just after 5, and got to the Nevis Range ski centre car park to find I'd left my hiking socks in the hut. Secondly, we had the Climbers' Club key for the forest gate and higher car park, but according to a chap in the hut the foresty commission had changed the locks the previous week without letting the Climbers' Cub know, and on top of that we couldn't even get to the gate to check as we found there was a motorbike world championships being held in the Leanachan forest and their fences in the car park were blocking access to the forest track. Thirdly, while we were considering these problems some night security came over and told us only event VIPs could park in the car park, although as it was so early there were no staff there that knew where we *could* park. Also, despite the weather having been nice all week by all accounts, today the forecast was for showers and low cloud, and sure enough it was pretty overcast with a certain amount of dampness in the air. Nevertheless, none of these things were enough to cause us to change our plans, so we went back to the hut for me to pick up some more socks (I later found the others had rolled under the bed), and parked in the North Face car park instead. We began our walk in at 7 to 7, at first steeply through the forest then a more relaxed ascent up the banks of the Allt a' Mhuilinn to the CIC hut (altitude 680m), which we reached after an hour an a half. It was a little surreal to pass a 'digging in progress' sign along with two wheelbarrows and the digger itself under the cliffs of Ben Nevis 5km from the road, but it seems they are improving the path by the hut. Another half an hour later and we were at the start of the route.

We decided to miss out the Douglas boulder to save time, and went round the back via East Gully instead. I went first, and followed a little path which first went up easy grass and rock, and then steepened up a loose, muddy scree gully. I steadily picked my way up not yet sure of the friction on this terrain, at times having to bridge on holds that weren't quite big enough to inspire confidence in big boots, and holding onto rock that was clearly not well attached. I found it unpleasantly loose and was fervently hoping the rest of the route would not be like this. This gully took us to the Douglas gap, from which an open chimney left up onto the ridge proper. Claire took over here and carefully explored the holds and made progress up to safety. Thankfully the rock here was much more solid, but this meant we had to start from scratch 'finding our feet'. It was pretty steep, and I was glad that Claire could remember the moves she'd just made and pass the knowledge on to me to aid my upwards progress. We didn't get a rope out, but made a mental note not to feel ashamed to request one if we met another such obstable.

North Face of Ben Nevis

The information we had with us said that the next section was easy going, and indeed it was, and we made fairly rapid progress. Claire carried on picking the way upwards, and at some point I took over being in front. The scrambling was luxurious and despite the complete lack of views due to the lowe cloud I was really enjoying the gorilla like movement over the rock now. We kept our eye out for the Little Tower, which one description said was inconspicuous but another had some advice on how to tackle. We reach a little steeping that may have been it, but couldn't work out the advised approach of starting on the left and trending right up an awkward ramp to a corner, so instead took it straight on which was given as an alternative, since this way seemed worn and was marked with crampon scratches. I decided to be brave and stay in the lead, despite my climbing skills have falled into disuse, and although a little harder than the previous section it was never hard or scary and still fun.

This easy section of the ridge seemed to go on forwever, but after eventually we reached an area where the crampon scratches ran out, and there were several options, none of which seeming that likely. The left hand flank seemed most amenable so I tried a couple of grooves but although each led up a little, the slab above them looked like it would repel further progress. Claire retreated a metre or two and found a stepped groove that I'd missed, so we went up that. Then came an akward bit on a par with the earlier chimney, and decided that this was probably the Little Tower, as a ramp led righwards. Claire teetered across it, and gave us some feedback, before pulling stylishly over a steep block onto easier ground again. I approached the ramp in a different way, staying lower so that I was more in balance and not pushed backwards by my rucksack. That bit was okay, but I didn't like the feel of the move over the block so remembered my previous mental note about gear, and got Claire to pass me down a couple of slings that I attached to myself for safety for that one move, which I then made much more happily. I'm well aware that slings don't have any 'give' and if you fall on them you can generate a lot of force, both on your body and on the sling and rock, but in this situation the speed advantage overweighed all that, all that was needed was a little backup.

We carried on on more easier ground, until we reach the unmistakeable Great Tower, a vertical wall which could have been climbed but was of a quite different level of difficulty to the route so far. We had been expecting to summit the Great Tower direct since the route description had said to climb to its 'very ramparts', but reading further we realised that we were already at the ramparts, and it was here that the Eastern Traverse led off to the left to avoid this difficulty. Claire spotted the traverse and it was reassuringly wide, albeit in a fantastic position on the edge of the cliff and I'm sure it would be vertigo-inducing for many. At about this point some eerie whoops and cheers reached us through the mist, other people on the mountain somewhere, and we whooped back. The Eastern Traverse led us straight to the tunnel, which was my 'through route' section, and I dived eagerly ahead to thrutch myself up the inside of the fallen block and out of the hole at the top. It wasn't greasy as one description had warned, just fabulous. With the other two still engaged in this bit, I explored the next section which was described as steep with good holds. Steep it was, climbing the broken left wall of the Great Tower with triangular blocks jutting out so your body was always pushed outwards even if your hands and feet were in the niches above and below. It was reasonably okay though, no need for a rope although I did thread a sling through a hole and attach it to myself while I figured out the steepest move, and then all three of us were at the cairn on the tower.

We knew we were nearing the summit now, but still had to face the infamous Tower Gap, and were feeling a little jittery at the prospect. We first paused off the back of the Great Tower for a replenishing snack, then it was Simon's turn to be the intrepid explorer at the front so we sent him off across the next obstacle - between the Great Tower and Tower Gap the ridge narrows into a metre wide gendarme with vertical sides dropping into gullies that lead down to the coire floors. This bit in itself is particularly memorable, carefully sliding on your bum over the gendarme which a kind of rock gangway, the exposure from the sheer drops each side causing you to shrink down onto the rock and pray for high friction to hold you there. Simon investigated Tower Gap at the end of the ledge while Claire and I waited on it, enjoying the situation at the same time as trying not to think about it too much. There was already a rope in situ so Si clipped in to it, but there was a bit of a delay before he actually descended. From my vantage point I coudn't see what was going on, I just knew I was getting a little chilly and also a little damp as it had started to drizzle, but when I arrived I saw that someone had tied a knot in the rope to bring the two strands together. This knot was half way down the gap, so the rope wasn't actually much use as an abseil rope until you'd actually managed to lower yourself down to the bottom of the gap. Simon threw himself valiantly down it, and climbed skillfully up the other side, using the ab rope as protection although the higher he got the more horizontal it became - thankfully the difficulty eased with the height. Claire followed, then me, and I accepted the rope Si threw over to me, so I had direct assistance from above. Then we stowed the gear for the final section.

The refuge at the summit

The ramp leading away from Tower Gap was much easier than it looked from below although Claire wasn't keen on one of the moves - we were all a bit wobbly after the pause and confusion of Tower Gap and the odd rope work. Even after climbing up the other side I was worrying about the bit in the description noted as a 'final steepening' with no mention as to whether it was hard or easy. As it turned out it was barely noticeable, and suddenly we found ourselves standing on the summit plateau, an unexpected situation after being so absorbed by the route for so long. The mist still brought visibility down to around a hundred metres, but we could hear all manner of noises up ahead. Captivated, I gingerly stalked onwards while the other two sorted something out behind me, until the view cleared a little and I could see ghostly figures passing in either direction in front of me - we had reached the tourist path leading up from the right to the summit on the left, and there was a steady flow of people ascending by that route. In no time at all we'd joined the masses and covered the last couple of hundred metres across the plateau to the summit, and were standing there amist the sodden walkers and climbers, the ruins of the observatory, a war memorial, a trig point, a wooden roofed steel-box refuge, and a number of cairns, each artefact appearing out of the mist as the other faded in to it.

It was the first time up here for all three of us and we sat and had some food and drink. We'd made good time, 2 hours for the walk in and 5 hours on the route, and it was now 2pm, meaning we had time to descend by the CMD arete as planned.

We set off on a bearing, but then I made a brief error and led us over to the wrong shoulder, forgetting there were two. I soon realised my mistake and we backtracked 100 yards or so and found the path down the correct shoulder. We zig zagged down steeply for a good way, and had our moment of vindication when we found a levelling along with the the pole marking the escape route down Coire Leis, showing we were in the right place. There was also a feature that looked like a large rock chalice, which turned out to be a series of abseil posts, marking another descent option. Our route carried on ahead, with the flanks steepening again into the CMD arete. We followed the path along the back of it instead of scrambling along the crest, for speed's sake and because we'd already put in a good deal of toil on the way up so didn't need the extra difficulty at this point. There were still no views, and the rain that had started at Tower Gap had not stopped, so we were plodding along in waterproofs. It was a little disheartening having to walk with poor weather and no visual rewards, but at least it had held off while we were climbing. I personally was still enjoying the terrain, and imagining what a stunning situation it must be on a good day. The ridge curved round to the North and it didn't seem too long until we were only 1km from the summit of Carn Mor Dearg, and then 200m. Then a short hop along to the subsiduary top, then all that was left was the epically long path that descended mercilessly slowly to the Allt a' Mhuilinn.

We'd expected to descend fairly steeply back down to the valley floor, but the path we picked up seemed to be heading in pretty much the correct direction albeit staying high, so we followed it deciding it would be quicker than going off track. At points we thought it would never descend nor converge with the Allt a' Mhuillin path, but eventually we saw over a rib and were reassured that it would. As we came down out of the clouds we started to get a couple of views. Unfortunately by this point Tower Ridge was out of sight, but we saw the western part of the North Face, and round to Lochan Meall an t'Suidhe and beyond to Loch Linnhe. The rain stopped too, meaning we could take off our waterproofs, which was good as it was getting steadily warmer the lower we got. There was also a brilliant moment where I observed that we hadn't seen much wildlife except for the odd little brown bird, and added that I nearly always see Ptarmigan on Scottish hills… then as if by magic, just as we passed a bump on the path we stumbled over the largest flock of them I've ever seen, and they ran around for a bit before flying away, flashing white under their camouflaged grey backs. We saw some deer in the distance too, the other essential tick.



When we finally reached the Allt a' Mhuillin we wished we were still up on the flanks as it was pretty midgy, but thankfully that didn't last too long as it started drizzling again which kept them away - we weren't complaining this time. The path back along the river then through the forest began to drag, our feet were aching and our knees were sore. We didn't quite make it within 12 hours, but we reached the car at 7 past 7 having left at 7 to 7, and 12:15 isn't bad at all for such a long day out: 14km and 1480m total ascent with a fair amount of scrambling. The question is whether to go back and do it again on a fairer day, there are so many other Munros still to do but I think it would be worth it!

April 2011 - Walking - Sodden Munros and the Crazy Bridge, Loch Monar

I put a message on facebook to ask people to get in touch if they fancied a bit of Munro bagging with me, and Jen was one of those who replied, although it took us a couple of months to find a suitable weekend. Jen said she's not currently very hill fit but that was fine as I want to spend the early part of the year ticking off some single or double Munros rather than the bigger circuits. I fancied heading to an area I've not been to before, and I wanted to make use of my new MBA membership, so set about finding some hills the other side of the Inverness/Fort William divide that are near a bothy. It seems that most bothies up there aren't actually that convenient for Munros, but one stood out and was mentioned in the guidebook, although the more I looked into it the more crazy the plan seemed - it involved a night in the bothy and one or two wild camps in order to bag some of the most remote Munros, so we'd have to carry all our kit. Jen is used to that sort of thing though, and thought it sounded feasible, and since neither of us had much time to find an alternative the plan stuck.

After work on Thursday 31st March I picked Jen up from Stockport station, and after a brief detour to pick up a belt sander we made our way up to Scotland to gratefully stay overnight with some friends. It was a smooth journey but we arrived at midnight which was after all of our bedtimes so we quickly hit the sack. On Friday we travelled the same distance again up to the Northwest Highlands, and parked up in Craig, a little village in the middle of nowhere midway between Inverness and Skye. I just about managed to cram part of the tent into my teensy rucksack, whilst Jen hauled the lion's share in her monster pack. I later decided I could strap the poles to the outside of mine, but she refused to let me take them, and it transpired that she'd brought a few extra items like knitting, so the balance of shared kit wasn't too unfair. Thankfully the mountains were pretty devoid of snow so we could leave the winter kit in the car. By 1:15 am we were strutting off along the well made track up the Allt a' Chonais.



Me on the bridge of Instability, photo by Jen



Jen off the Bridge of Instability

At the point where we were to leave the big track and take a footpath up the Allt Leathad an Tobair, the map showed a bridge. After one uneccessary bit of path and just after some rapids we found it - two cables strung across the stream, the top one worryingly floppy. This flouted entry into the accepted classification of walkers footbriges (bridge of Mild Peril, Peril, Doom then Death), and became dubbed the Bridge of Instability. After a few tentative steps I decided that it actually worked, as long as you pressed down on the handline and leant forward, and after a disorientating section over a fast flowing section of stream at the far side, I was across. Perhaps my balance made up for my ineptness in all other areas, for example the new found ability to look at the map and think we were in a completely different spot to where we actually were. Jen was very unsure of the bridge, but valiantly gave it a try, however whereas I'd felt surprisingly stable, she looked rather wild as the handline swung worryingly from side to side. Deciding either way would end up in a dunking, she went for the deliberate one and stepped down into the river, wading rapidly to join me on the far bank, somewhat the wetter. The first river crossing of the trip, although not the last! From here we started ascending, following a path up the banks of a fast flowing mountain stream.

In the Bearnais bothy

The forecast for the weekend had been full of challenges, the first being the wind. It didn't *feel* too strong, but it really was especially after being channelled down the valley, as for the first time ever I was knocked over - it swept my feet out backwards and unceremoniously faceplanted me onto the path. And kept trying for a repeat. Often you had to walk with body horizontal when you felt a gust hit you, and brace against walking poles. But eventually we crested the valley at a bealach (saddle) and began to gradually descend down the mirror valley on the other side, where it was a little less strong. Here there was no path and we began the tedium of bog hopping and stream straddling as various tributaties headed down to join the main stream. Such is the way of Scottish hills though and we had a little sing song to aid us on our journey. Boots were wet by now and the moss under foot was unstable, so we started slipping frequently, but our souls were further lifted when we caught sight of the bothy at the head of the loch and half an hour later we'd arrived - after 12km and 6 hours from the car.

Being a remote bothy and a Friday night the place was desserted, but we connected with previous travellers by reading through the logbook and adding our own entry. We had enough daylight to settle in, toilet and change and get the dinner on, and just dug out the headtorches in order to eat it. A nice early night was earnt, and by 9pm we were head to head on the little bench bed, fed, warm and dry, and hoping not to topple onto the floor and that the moose could not work the door latches.

River crossing, day 2, photo by Jen

River crossing, day 2

We got up with the light (ish) and then didn't really keep track of time, and were ready for the off by 8:45, although had plenty of time as we had 15km to cover which we'd anticipated would take 10 hours. After a river crossing (I took my boots off and Jen just waded through given that she was wet enough already) we picked up some landrover trails round the lochan, and then a path heading to the western shoulder of Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich ('Cheesecake'). The ground was still pretty damp underfoot and it wasn't long before I was also wet through again, but visibility was fine and we plodded our way steadily upwards, with a fairly rapid height gain (in terms of steepness, not our actual speed). There had been a little dusting of snow overnight but it melted as we ascended, receding away from us. Once we reach the intermediate summit of Sail Riabhach it seemed to take forever to encounter the small lochan just before the final slopes of Cheesecake, but there wasn't really much room for error given we were on a ridge, so just carried on and finally there it was. There the ground steepened and we caught up with the snow and kicked steps up to the summit arriving 24 hours after leaving the car. Due to the cold and the wind we only paused to take a quick photo and check for a phone and internet signal so we could get an up to date forecast for tomorrow - success.



On the lower slopes of Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich,
the bothy is at the head of the lochain



Summit of Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich

The wind was still fairly strong so with heads down and little conversation we descended to the col inbetween this and the next Munro, and thankfully soon found ourselves out of the wind and cloud and able to see where we were going again. It was nice that we didn't actually need much conversation between us, every time there was a decision to be made we seemed to be on the same wavelength and were thinking the same thing. Although it was also nice that we found plenty to natter about when the weather allowed! We passed 3 RAF blokes whose friendly hello seemed a little like the third degree, then continued up Lurg Mhor. This meant another 250m of ascent but it seemed a lot quicker and easier with a path the whole way and no snow. Then back down to the col, then we picked our way down the steep slopes to the north which levelled off as the cloud lifted yet further and actually allowed us to see the summits we had just bagged, and prompted smiles to spread across our faces. Then with one further rain shower came a beautiful full double rainbow.



Beautiful rainbow



We continued descending then found ourself amidst an array of granite slabs and cascading waterfalls, but fortuitously we had landed ourselves on top of a grassy rake which gave us a way through. The ground levelled off which meant more bog wading, then we rounded a rib and started heading up a different valley that leads up to the saddle we crossed over yesterday, from the side. We were becoming quite familiar with the classification of streams you are likely to encounter - wide streams, roaring streams with waterfalls (some with piles of rocks dumped when the water lost power and making useful bridges), boggy streams (some strewn with rocks to use at stepping stones, some not), streams that blend in with the grass and have it flowing in the current, and one lowly but pretty awesome stream that surged round the bottom part of a sloping granite slab. Part way up this valley we pick a slighly raised spot by a fast flowing stream that made a rather appealing wild camping spot. We managed to come in on schedule again as it was only 6pm, and had a leisurely hour or two pitching the tent and making dinner. Of course as soon as we'd put the tent up it rained (thankfully not before) so we ate dinner (crunchie macaronie and lumps of cheese, which was DELICIOUS) in the damp, but it dried off before bed allowing us a little time to air dry. We put our heads down just before 9 again, and had another proper night's sleep, although had to curl round the odd tuft of grass underneath our sleeping mats.



Wild camping spot

My big toes had felt rather sore when I'd removed my boots, but they magically restored themselves overnight, and instead I woke up with agonisingly painful neck and shoulders from too much rucksack carrying. Much stretching and ibuprofen ensued then I was mostly fit to continue. The forecast for today had fairly insistent that there was a risk of thunder and lightning, although that was for the whole of the Northwest Highlands so we hatched a cunning plan to walk up to the saddle and at that point make a decision whether to head down back to the car, or up to the next couple of Munros (Sgurr Choinnich and Sgurr a Chaorachain). The weather so far had not been brilliant, but had been only what you'd expect in the mountains, and didn't detract from our enjoyment of the adventure. Today however, we were attacked by hail, in an ever changing wind direction that we concluded was playing games just to make sure we were soaked from all angles. We were both travelling at rather a crawl today, my third day pace being a little more of a match for Jen's slow but steady plod. The wind got stronger as the slope steepened and by the time we reached the top it was hard to know whether to find shelter to have a little chat about plans, or to just find the path down. We were both 60% sold on going down (30% up and 10% minds elsewhere) and the cloud was too low to see what the weather was actually doing in the bigger picture, so after a little zigzagging back and forth we dropped over onto the other side and carried on down, down out of the wind. Not out of the rain though, so it was a bit of a heads-down auto-pilot descent.

Two of the many deer

Back at the Bridge of Instability we passed in the same manner as on the way in - me on and Jen off - then had a brief pause in order to stuff ourselves with pork pies. Then things went a little weird, my hands were getting pretty cold thanks to being damp, but my warm gloves, although at the top of my dry bag, were buried under the tent which had been the last thing back into my bag, and extracting them would be a bit of an ordeal. As we rejoined the big track I had an epiphany that I really needed to try, so unclipped the rucksack, and set down my rollmat, and undid the pack and pulled out the tent, and opened the dry bag, and extracted the wet gloves off my fingers. As I used my teeth to remove my liner gloves the chinese finger trick effect of the the wet fabric gave me the sensation that I was popping each of my fingers in its socket, and suddenly the onset of hot aches turned into full blown 'screaming barfies' - I felt sick and couldn't help but moan audibly, which lead to a rather taken aback and increasingly worried Jen. I've had hot aches plenty of times before and they're not pleasant, but this took it up another notch, and I'm fairly sure this was due to the additional bonus of wet feet. I stood there with my fingers of one hand sheltered inside the warm dry fabric of my winter gloves, and could last out just long enough to do one task like pull off my other wet glove before I felt dizzy again. Jen started to help me pack my bag saying we needed to get going, and I knew we had to, but everything was overcome by the surreal all-over-body ache emanating from my hands. Somehow we got the bag clipped back up, me with gloves dangling off my hands as my fingers were so numb I couldn't get my fingers into their little slots. I felt neauseous so I dropped to my knees with my head down for a little bit. Jen said we needed to get going so I stood back up, and she asked if I felt dizzy. 'I feel really light-headed' was my best verbal approximation for feeling a hair's breadth away from fainting for the first time in my life and she told me to get back down. 'But you said we needed to get going!' I half protested as I sat down. The thing with hot aches is that you always know that no matter how bad you feel, you know it's only temporary and that allows you to wade back out of the wooziness. A second epiphany told me that if I stood up and started walking immediately then the motion would prevent the dizziness from taking hold. Thankfully it worked and I began the hardest bit of walking I can remember, asking Jen to hold one of my poles so that I could get the most blood flow round my fingers and concentrating on each footstep. I desperately wanted to either empty the water out of my boots, or get out my scarf, or eat a mars bar, but I couldn't do either of those without removing my gloves and undergoing a repeat performance, so just had to trust that by keeping moving my feet would warm up and that would thrust some life back in to me - which it did, and after another half an hour or so I felt right as rain, especially when the sun came out. When Jen stopped for a photo I did too, choosing that over those other options. Then also squeezed one sock and ate a mars bar ayway. We finished the walk out back to the car at an absolutely stonking pace, making up for our snail like crawl up the hills.

Looking down towards the car in the sunshine

On the way back to the car we discussed various plans, such as heading South and ticking off Loch Lomond or similar the next morning before driving home, but once we reached the car and got changed into dry clothes, we felt rather complete, and felt as if we had achieved the mission we set out on and drawn a line under it. It had been a 48 hour epic adventure almost exactly to the minute, and we concluded that would do us. So we decided return home (with socks drying out the window and making the car look as if it had ears), in what was now glorious sunshine which continued for the entire journey. My fingers felt sore and beaten, and I felt a little knocked for six after the enforced recovery from the dizziness, and it is a very long drive, but with a hot chocolate stop in Aviemore, a haggis supper stop just south of Perth, and a photograpy stop at Southwaite servies as the sun set, the drive went without event. The last part of the journey round Manchester and down the snake pass to Sheffield was passed with Jen and I bawling out every word to an entire album of Bon Jovi with great gusto.