Meall Mheinnidh fae Achnasheen via Letterewe.

[Norman_Grieve]

Set off for the 8am Inverness bus fae The Drive, at the last minute, having slept in when my alarm failed to go off at 4am.

I was followed 2 mins later by AW, who had travelled up fae Harrogate the day before. Unfortunately he failed to make the 8am bus but I wasnae unduly concerned, as he could still make the 1.34pm train tae Achnasheen, by simply catching the no.10 bus an hour later.

Once in the HC I whiled away some time with a wee visit tae Auld McD's, then headed the short distance to the rail station. AW didnae make the 1.34pm train either & I txt him the time o' the next & last train at 5.54pm or thereabouts.

Shortly after setting off I got engaged in animated conversation with a rather demure Canadian Chinese lady economist from near Vancouver. So entranced did I become that it was only after we'd stopped at Achnasheen, that I happened tae look oot yon window & see the sign.

I leapt up, grabbed my jacket, the fair lady thrust my book into my hand, I hoisted my rucksack on back and frantically undid the strap attaching my steed tae the rail. Wrestling the handlebars fae under the rail I frantically swung the bike round to be faced with the first of several young bods starting tae climb aboard.

Rather too patiently I then waited for them all to get safely on, then my jaw dropped as the door neatly closed behind them, as the conductor blew her whistle. I desperately pressed the open door button in vain, as the train slowly eased away fae the platform.

I let go of my steed, which fell clattering to the floor, head in hands, wailing & moaning. The young lads & lasses who'd blocked my exit quickly slipped away & my new Chinese Canadian friend appeared, repeatedly uttering the words 'velly solly'!

It's not your fault I cried, apparently misunderstood, as she reeled around & shrank back into her seat. I raced past her to find the youngish female conductor who in a rather strident tone, teld me that it was all my fault as I hadn't informed her that I had a bike.

Furthermore I should count myself very lucky that I'd got on at all, as I should have booked in advance. Indeed she'd received 4 bookings, which meant that the train was full of bikes, even though mine was the only wan aboard! Lastly, I should have pulled the emergency lever to stop the train!

I remained unconvinced by this last piece of advice as there was a warning of dire unspecified penalties for improper use & I thought mine was more of an inconvenience than an emergency? Rather more helpfully she then pinted out that if I got off at Strathcarron I'd only have to wait for 10 mins for a train back tae Achnasheen 'if that was any use tae me'?

Instead, living dangerously, I got off at the 1st 'request stop' at Achnashellach, where I had a 20 min. wait for the return train, losing just under an hour in total. Given that there are only 4 trains / day, I thought that all in all, I'd got off pretty lightly.

When the train arrived I was given a further mild heart attack, when the bike door failed tae open & the guard waved me & my new tall, slim blonde Germanic female aquaintance, doon tae the front o' the train. Thankfully he let me lift up mine steed unopposed & even showed some sympathy for my plight, of which he'd been made aware by radio.

He seemed slightly skeptical when I teld him my 'plan A' destination was still Carmore barn via Letterewe & Meall Mheinnidh 'What today'? says he.
I then got engaged in conversation with mein fair fraulein, mainly concerning the merits or otherwise of mountain bikes & the wearing of helmets or otherwise thereon.

Fortunately she was also getting off at Achnasheen, or I might well have found myself back in Inverness rather sooner than planned. Here the pull exerted on me by the distant hill proved rather stronger than that of the fair maiden & I set off toute suite for Kinlochewe.

I soon bore right along the A832 at the roundabout with the A890 doon to Lochcarron, following in the bike wheels of my pal fae Rhyll a fortnight earlier. The first few miles were easy enough along the north shore of Loch a' Chroisg, sparkling in the sunshine, despite a fair headwind.

There followed a fair climb of 300ft tae the head o' Glen Docherty, where impressive thick new stone walls either side of the road lined the gateway tae Torridon. The visibility was tremendous after the heavy rains of the previous day & I looked down the long ribbon of Loch Maree, stretching away below into the distance.

I then whizzed doon Glen Docherty, just managing tae slow up in time for the 30mph signs, before turning right towards Incheril. Over the bridge across the Abhainn Bruachaig, left along the lane past the school & a track led past a farm on the left. A vehicle sized gate left of the cemetary then led to the grassy path fae the carpark at 5pm, having taken 1 1/4hr for the 9 miles fae Achnasheen.

The path soon narrowed, becoming well worn earth & gravel and I nonchalantly glided past a couple of advancing years. Not far past them I came to a wee impasse where the path had slipped away several feet. I almost managed to stop then, as if in slow motion, plunged headfirst into the mud below.

I was OK but at first I thought my steed was caput, as I could no longer turn it's front wheel. A wee while spent dicking around with the brake cables however & I was most relieved to find that they began turning once more. Somewhat chastened I remounted my steed & continued on my merry way.

I hadn't gone very far when I met a middle-aged lady slumped on a boulder beside a stream in the woods just above the river. 'I'm glad I'm on foot rather than on one of those on this path!', says she. 'It gets worse does it?' I replied. 'I was thinking of switching [mode's of transport]', says I.

Then as I was leaving she shouted after me 'You should be OK for the next few miles', as if in danger of thwarting some record breaking attempt, or maybe worried about meeting me in the pub later? Beyond in the next, easier, grassier section, I carried straight on alongside the river, vaguely aware that I might have passed a fork to the right.

Sure enough, the grassy path became narrower & after passing an extensive area of gorse to the right & through between scattered trees, I emerged at the head of the loch. Rather than the easy stroll along a beach to the right back to the path which I'd envisaged, I soon found myself entering an area of flooded grassland.

This was cut by several creeks, each of which I followed up right 'til I could cross them. only to be confronted by yet another. After some time pushing my steed through this most unpromising cycling territory, I finally hit the path alongside the foot of the hill. This of course looked nice & flat and firm, leading back towards where I'd left it.

Turning left I made speed alongside the loch, splashing my way through a couple of wee streams, where they entered the bay, with much driftwood washed up towards the trees. I then dismounted as the path climbed up a gentle but very stony & wet course, to arrive at a fine wooden bridge, high over the cascades of the sizeable Abhainn an Fhasaigh.

Fortunately I stopped here to take a snap here, only to find that my camera was no longer in my inner trouser pocket, which had a long slit down the side. I dumped my pack & abandoned my steed, walking back the way I'd come, hoping I came across the camera before I reached the watery woods.

Thankfully this proved to be the case & I arrived back at the bridge, still cursing yet more wasted precious time. Here I got a call fae AW, who it transpired had got on the wrong bus tae Inverness, the 305, which takes 5hr tae get there via a wee detour to Banff.

Thus he'd missed the Achnasheen train & was now heading back tae the Granite City.

Just beyond the bridge the well worn path tae Slioch turned off right & I pushed my heavy steed straight on up the steepening, rougher, narrower path. The sweat was now pouring doon my face in the warm June sunshine and my heavy cotton shirt was also soaked.

I assured myself that the extra effort in getting the bike up the 300ft to the apex of the saddle, would be amply rewarded by a long easy ride doon the other side. However, above the steep bit I soon discovered that the going remained rough & boggy, with a section of very slippery, black slabs, where I could barely keep my feet.

Questioning my sanity in bringing the bike thus far, I decided to cut my losses & set off on foot. Almost immediately I spotted a long line of wheel marks in the mud & soon reconsidered, thinking surely their maker must know a big improvement in the path was imminent.

I turned back, retracing my steps to mount my steed & even managed a few short sections of wobbly cycling. However, things soon deteriorated again rapidly & I could see for some way ahead the surface remained a rough mixture of rocks & bog.

Thus I once again abandoned the accursed bike, in the sure & certain knowledge that just around the corner would lie a firm, dry, gentle, perfect cycleway. No matter, this time I resolved to stick by my decision & when just around the corner to the left, I came to an awkward, slippery, stream crossing, on the lip of a long, tumbling cascade doon into the loch, I felt duly vindicated.

Once across the path changed character however, as expected becoming nice & firm, smooth & dry. Still, it was rather narrow, as it climbed gently through the bracken, with a fine, high waterfall over to the right, backed by the long, craggy slopes of Slioch.

A level section was then followed by a steady descent, with many cobbles but still much drier than where I'd left the bike. Across a wee stream there was a long section of good, firm, dry, but still narrow stalkers' path, a fair scattering of wee fallen rocks, littering the surface, close below a line of low crags just above.

Around a bend to the right another, larger stream was crossed on a substantial bridge of stone, beneath it's thick covering of earth & grass. Here I stopped for a wee breather & drank greedily from the clear water.
Beyond a gradual climb led through the uppermost trees of the famous Loch Maree oakwoods.

Although much of the good but narrow path hereabouts was probably cycleable, some sections were built along the top of a wall, dropping steeply down the hillside on the left. Thus I felt that there would have been a good chance of a rather longer, more serious fall, should I have tried to continue, cycling along here with my bulky pack.

Across the loch & up Glen Grudie beyond, the dramatic vertiginous peaks of Beinn Eighe appeared, the buttresses well lit in the westering evening sunshine. At one point the 'path' followed the right side of a new high deer fence, here being little more than trampled bracken. A sign indicated that this was part of the '2009 Letterewe Regeneration Project'.

Past a couple more wee steam crossings amongst the trees, there was a section where I briefly lost the path, which seemed to split along a ridge of bare rock. I cut down to the left, crossing wee slabs & grassy terraces to regain a more well defined lower path.

This led to the steepest, windiest section yet, where the path cut down left into a wooded stream gorge. A couple of steps were cut in the trunk of a fallen tree, which led down the right side of a large boulder. One up the steep stream bank over the other side, I was amazed to see that the wheel marks of a bike continued onwards.

I thought the mystery cyclist must be a) World Champion Mountain Biker 2011, b) not wearing a bulky pack, c) doing it for a bet / big sponsorship money d) certified insane...


Another section alongside more new deer fencing then led to a long gradual descent between the oakwoods down below, above the loch and more long lines of crags up the hillside above. Down Loch Maree some of the many islands in it's wide lower section came into view, the low sun dazzling with it's fiery reflection off the smooth surface.

At length the improving path dropped more steeply down to end poised above the vertical bank of a large, wide stream, the Abhainn na Fuirneis. It appeared that the bridge had been washed away, as the path seemed to continue over the far side of a deep pool 15ft or so beneath my feet, below the powerful flow over a series of cascades.

I backtracked 10yds then dropped down boggy ground to climb a fence, below which I waded across the torrent, making best use of large but slippery boulders sticking out of the water. Up the far bank below the trees soon led behind a smart whitewashed cottage to the left, with a genny humming loudly in an outhouse to the right.

A wee grassy path led doon past Rhododendron bushes on the left to join the track leading back up to the cottage. The track, complete with my old friends, the never-ending bike mark trail, led along the bottom edge of some pine woods. Another track came in from sharp left at a bend to the right, with improved fields stretching down to the loch on the left.

Across Loch Maree I could see across to a large white house, which I assumed [wrongly], was the hotel. The track then curved up to the right beyond more woods down beside the loch, with several whitewashed cottages scattered around the large Letterewe Lodge down across a field to the left.

Here I came to an old stone building on the left side of the track, with 2 doors in good repair. I tried the first, opening it to reveal a large clutter of old pipes, windows in frames, an old moose head & assorted other junk.

Past most of this was a flight of stairs on the right, again in fairly good repair, up which I climbed to reveal an upper wooden floor extending across the whole building. Upon this over to the right stood an ancient, rusty sewing machine on a dusty stand, with a sturdy old work table over to it's left.

There were one or two wee holes in the floor over to the right & a couple of white doors nailed to the floor further left. The roof was in good repair with a couple of intact skylights & there was only a rectangular hole a foot or so across at the foot of the gable-end wall beyond the old worktable.

I checked my watch to find it was now 9.15pm, having taken 4 1/4hr fae Incheril, comfortably my longest ever walk-in. I was feeling fairly knackered & the thought of either continuing over the Bealach Mheinnidh to the earth floored Carnmore barn was not very appealing.

Thus I took out my grub bag intent on opening my can o' corned beef, having been careful to avoid the variety fae Farmfoods, which I'd discovered at the bothy on my trip tae Morven & Scaraben back in March, hadn't got a key.

However, I soon found the this Lidls' variety... had lost it's key! A seach of my bag revealed nothing & I soon began wishing I'd not missed the Ray Mears survival Special, on how to open a can without it's opener. I even resorted to gripping the metal tab with my teeth, to no avail.

For the time being I then satisfied my hunger with a wee can of mackerel & a lump of cheese. I then tried lighting a T-light by striking the few loose matches in my pocket on the wall. I thought they must be damp, as each fell apart but with only twa left tried striking them on the broken matchbox fae which they'd come.

The penultimate match sparked then broke but on the 3rd strike, eureka! The last match caught & I lit a couple of T-lights, wow! I then stretched out my Staoineag karrimat & sleeping bag & dozed off, as a Swallow flew in through the wee opening & settled into the rafters.

I wasn't sure if I was dreaming when I heard an ATV engine outside, thinking I might be away tae be turfed out... However, when I next awoke I checked my watch to find it was 4am, with a wan light filtering through the skylights. Soon the Swallow flew back out for the day & after scoffing a wee chocolate biscuit bar I decided to follow suit.

I left at 4.40am under overcast, gun-metal grey skies & down the hill, round a sharp left bend in the track, soon reached a wee sign directing one off the track along a wee, fairly recent looking, rather grassy/muddy diversion path around the Letterewe cottages.

This led up through the trees above a fence & round to the left above the large, turreted, whitewashed Letterewe lodge. It rejoined the main track above more cottages, outside which was parked a dark blue pickup. I reckoned this must be of exceptionally low mileage, given the only 1/2 mile long track, back to Furnace.

The earth track was much narrower than when I'd left it & it soon climbed up out of the trees, where I snapped the view across Loch Maree, over the lodge, to the pier beside the large white house on the far shore. It was still getting light at only 10 to 5am & I thought this must be one of the earliest photos taken on Scottishhills once I'd posted it on the site?

Shortly I reached the source of the caterpillar vehicle tracks which had been scouring the track & it's sides, in the form of two wee orange diggers. For 100yds beyond them the track was perfectly surfaced with fine gravel, with drainage ditches dug along both sides. The diggers & track looked very similar to those I'd seen over the hill on the approach to Carnmore from Letterewe many years ago, during the 'improvements' to that path / track.

Not much further up the path I reached a ford in the fairly large Allt Coire Beinn Lair. I turned right here, following a wee path up past a bridge. I then retraced my footsteps to the bridge, deciding to continue up the main path, past a sheepfold on the left.

The well surfaced stalkers path then climbed gently alongside the sizeable Allt Folais & between further smaller stream crossings, I took the narrower right hand branch at a fork. I followed this up a zig-zag over a steeper step through the Bealach nan Sac, soon reaching a bridge over the stream of the same name.

Over the far bank the good path climbed steadily up the true right side of the stream, until it curved away leftwards more gently to reach the Bealach Mheinnidh. It had been 4 years since my last visit to this pass, when having walked in from Poolewe with GC on the way to climb Beinn Lair.

I recalled that on that 5hr ascent, we had followed a line of horse dung up the slopes to the right of the very long, high line of crags over to the left. Indeed I had seen more piles of such dung on the track lower down towards Letterewe today & thought this must have been true long into the past, given the mountain's name means Hill of the Horse.

Cutting off left at the head of the pass I followed the wide ridge past a tiny lochan and over a wee rocky outcrop, being turned left by a sheer drop on it's far side. A flat stretch of slightly tussocky grass led to a larger rocky outcrop, which was descended more easily right of centre.

Another flat stretch of long, soft grass, where I disturbed several deer which loped off down the long wide grasslands to the left, led to the start of the real climbing. From here it was 700ft to the summit, winding up between many broken slabby, low angle outcrops.

There was a much larger wee lochan left of a wee col with twa small forepeaks on the right. Further up the angle lay back and I took a few shots of the superb panorama to the SW, across Loch Maree. This stretched over the Corbetts of Baosbheinn & Beinn an Eoin on the right, with the Graham Beinn a' Chearcaill & Corbett Meall a' Ghiubhais further left.

Beyond lay the Torridon giants of my youth, Beinn Alligin, Liathach & Beinn Eighe, which I climbed just before Elvis popped his clogs. Approaching the summit I could see down to Carnmore over the causeway between the Dubh Loch & the long Fionn Loch, with it's many branched NW end.

I reached the wee summit cairn at 6.35am, just inside 2hr fae the barn, after 6hr 10min going from Incheril. This made it both my longest time taken & earliest reached summit - over an hour earlier than I'd ever even set off previously!

Martha's Peak, named after a legendary shepherdess who fell from it, over 1000ft to her death, was prominent to the NW on the NNE face of the nearby Corbett Beinn Airigh Charr. I guess this long rock climb, graded Difficult, must be wan o' my top targets for the future - any takers?

It began to rain as I left the summit, the panorama I'd just snapped to the SW soon being lost in a veil of showers. I dropped down to the true right of the wee stream which drained the lochan passed high on the way up. Here easy but fairly steep slopes led down to the left of steeper, rockier ground to the right.

Lower down the angle eased & I crossed over the stream to the left, above a wee new fenced enclosure down to the right. From here I took a diagonal, left slanting line across the slightly boggy wide, gentle grasslands, once again disturbing the few deer which I'd scattered down onto these slopes on the way up.

I rejoined the path of my ROA not far above the wooden bridge over the Bealach nan Sac, from which I followed the path back doon, arriving back at the barn at 8am. Here I spent some time hammering the ring pull off the mackerel can with a stone, then attempting to use it to pull open the corned beef can tab. These efforts eventually ceased when it snapped off, following my wrapping it round a pen.

Following an hour or so's kip, I packed up & set off for the long walk back out. The highlight of this journey was 4 sightings of Pine Martens in as many minutes, around the steep, windy crossing of the Allt Dearg. I first heard a rattling of the new fencing, saw one running away, which was followed by a long series of high screeching noises, when I though it may have been killing some prey.

A Marten then appeared, peeping out of the undergrowth towards me and I followed after it had retreated. I then spotted a Marten over to the left in the trees above the top of the stream gorge. Finally I saw two Martens, one running after the other, looking back behind me, as I climbed the steep path up across the far side of the stream.

Back on the bike, I took a chance with the slippery black slabs, cycling over rock which I'd hardly been able to stand up on on the way in. Just past the bridge over the Abhainn an Fhasaigh I tottered past a middle-aged couple who just stared in awe, standing aside as I negotiated the mud & boulders without a hitch.

Shortly after a group of lads waved to me as they walked the wrong way along one of the creeks leading to the head of Loch Maree, having made the same mistake as me the previous day - this despite the large stone arrow someone had left at the fork. Just before reaching the carpark at Incheril my trousers split big time, evidently not up to my repeated mounting & dismounting of my steed.

The weather had closed in as I reached the main road at 2.15pm, 4 1/4hr after leaving Letterewe, having a similar time to the walk/cycle in. The mist was well down on the hills & showery rain was being blown along in a stiff breeze. Despite this I managed to cycle most of the way up Glen Docherty, a car coming racing down the hill flashing it's lights at me - perhaps SP&FC on one of his climate changing runs up fae Derby?


I arrived at Achnasheen with just over 10 mins to spare before the 3.45pm train arrived. I jumped on, instantly faced with a tricky dilemma, as the front carraige was occupied by the Jamaican Womens Bob Sleigh Team & the rear by the Arabian Ladies Dance Troup. No doubt both were on their way back from their latest trip to Bendronaig bothy, where I had noted both had spent many happy hours entertaining hillgoers on my 2 night stay there at the end of May...

[Steve B]

Another entertaining report Norman. Always a good read.
Do you start to think public transport does not like you?

[Norman_Grieve]

Another entertaining report Norman. Always a good read.
Do you start to think public transport does not like you?

Aye, it's always much more o' an adventure wi the auld PT and one does get to meet many more fair frauleins.

[mrssanta]

I really enjoyed this Norman, what an epic! Even without the pics and the map I could see exactly where you had been.

[Norman_Grieve]

I really enjoyed this Norman, what an epic! Even without the pics and the map I could see exactly where you had been.

MissySanta, as a special Boxing Day treat, just for you, herebe the photies.

[mrssanta]

thanks those were lovely, what a beautiful eveninng you had

[gaffr]

I was down that way at the end of April to visit the wee ronnies in the area. Passed by the base of Martha's Peak after visiting the main summit above.....that arete at the base of Martha's Peak is probably a few notches above the Diff that you suggest ...it does look like a bonny section of rock though! Have you come across the Travels of Matt Marshall....I think that he worked for a newspaper and went walkabout occasionally....I used to have the book of his adventures, written in the 1930's, but I guess that adorns someone else's bookshelf now. Enjoyable reading your accounts which are refreshingly different.

[Norman_Grieve]

I was down that way at the end of April to visit the wee ronnies in the area. Passed by the base of Martha's Peak after visiting the main summit above.....that arete at the base of Martha's Peak is probably a few notches above the Diff that you suggest ...it does look like a bonny section of rock though! Have you come across the Travels of Matt Marshall....I think that he worked for a newspaper and went walkabout occasionally....I used to have the book of his adventures, written in the 1930's, but I guess that adorns someone else's bookshelf now. Enjoyable reading your accounts which are refreshingly different.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Look forward to your pm inviting moi tae your humble highland abode, where I'll trade a few more tales 4 free board & lodging.

P.S. Any wan got a precious copy o' the Travels of Matt Marshall?

P.P.S. Let me ken if anyone interested in scaling Martha's Peak.

[rockhopper]

P.S. Any wan got a precious copy o' the Travels of Matt Marshall?

Do you mean "The Travels of Tramp-Royal" by Matt Marshall ? Both Amazon and Waterstones look like they have the republished versions.

[gaffr]

That precious copy of The Tramp Royals adventures has turned up....problems living with euroland folks....they are always tidying up and tend to put books into places where they think that they should be rather than where I would want to lay my hands upon them This is a constant problem. I hear that it is available on the internet sites just when I thought that the americans and the aussies had bought up all of them!

[Norman_Grieve]

That precious copy of The Tramp Royals adventures has turned up....problems living with euroland folks....they are always tidying up and tend to put books into places where they think that they should be rather than where I would want to lay my hands upon them This is a constant problem. I hear that it is available on the internet sites just when I thought that the americans and the aussies had bought up all of them!

HNY tae all moi readers - hoo aboot givin' us a wee taster o' sum o' t' guid stories en yon tomb?

[gaffr]

I kind of thought of MM when I read your trip report. You certainly can have the hallowed tome, on loan, for a full reading.

'Being an account of his two journeys afoot through the wild highlands of Scotland and in the isles of Skye and Mull; of his eating out and sleeping out in all weathers; of his encounters and conversations; of his escapes, frights and thrills; and of his fibs, trespasses and rougueries: written down and arranged, together with poems and other weaknesses and oddities, by his astonished other self'.

I got hold of it from an Edinburgh second hand bookshop in 1963 and was published by Blackwood and sons in June 1932.

"With a host of furious fancies,
Whereof I am commander;
With a burning spear,
And a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander."
Tom o' Bedlam's Song.

[Norman_Grieve]

I kind of thought of MM when I read your trip report. You certainly can have the hallowed tome, on loan, for a full reading.
.[/size]

gaffr, HNY, thx, that would be gr8, how do you suggest I borrow it fae you.