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Worth the Wait – An Teallach for Sunrise 
People outside of the hill walking community often ask if I have a favourite hill. It is an impossible question to answer, there are so many contributing factors; the weather, the company, the terrain, the views, the funny moment, the unexpected snack offered in a moment of mental despair, the feeling when you take your boots off at the car, or even sometimes the normally unappealing fast food and can of energy drink on the way home. Big shoutout to the Elgin Burger King – many happy memories!
In conclusion I don’t think I would, or could, ever commit to a favourite. But… An Teallach is a mighty strong contender. Or Sgurr Fiona and the Corrag Bhuidhe pinnacles if we want to be specific.
When I first dived headfirst into the world of hillwalking / the Munros it resulted in me spending countless hours online looking at routes whilst simultaneously plotting how I would like to explore them in an ideal world (obviously never whilst on company time…). Christmas and birthday gifts quickly became hill centric. Throughout all this, there were a few obvious names that stood out, and An Teallach was always in amongst that top handful of “not to be missed”.
I can’t recall when I initially decided I wanted to go up An Teallach for a spring/autumn sunrise, but it would be years. Based on the location/orientation of the hills in relation to the sunrise, this should theoretically illuminate the ridge perfectly. This hopeful vision had been hard wired into route selection choice over the previous five or so years and unfortunately the right conditions for my An Teallach attempt rarely aligned with life.
It was the 3rd week in April 2021 and forecasts suggested that this weekend everything was aligning very well indeed. I had the Friday off work, so I pencilled in An Teallach, dusted off the maps and began attempting to persuade someone else to join, which ultimately proved unsuccessful.
By mid-week the Friday was looking particularly hazy, but Saturday had one of the best forecasts I had ever set eyes on. With varying degrees of lockdowns over the last year or so I hadn’t been out much in the hills, so I decided to head northwest, make the most of the day off, and do Slioch on the Friday morning.
After a great day on Slioch I arrived at the Dundonnell Hotel early evening and stopped in the carpark to boil up some dinner in a bag. The place felt abandoned but someone from the hotel managed to pop out a few times to do random jobs – I got the impression I wouldn’t be welcome trying to get a few hours’ sleep in the car, fair enough. After a bite to eat I moved along to the layby just next to the Dundonnell Mountain Rescue Team base. I’d never slept in my tiny VW Polo before, but how bad can it be for a few hours? Well, not great is the answer.
I was asleep by 8pm with the intention to rise at 2am (if memory recalls correctly) and make a steady ascent through the dark night up Meall Garbh and onwards to Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil where I hoped to arrive just in time for the sunrise. Too early, you spend hours in the freezing cold. Too late, unthinkable.
The remnants of winter were hanging on to the higher peaks and I was apprehensive about conditions on the ridge combined with the thought of setting off alone at 2am in the pitch black. It had been a while since the last solo night. The main objective was to safely reach Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil for some photo opportunities rather than a bagging/tick box exercise. I made peace with myself that I would leave my winter boots, ice axe, and opt for the light summer alternatives and substitute in an extra lens and tripod.
Part reclined in the passenger seat isn’t the most compatible with a deep sleep, or any kind of sleep to be honest. I must only have accumulated a couple of hours so was relieved when my alarm went off. With the nervous excitement I was up, boots tied, teeth brushed and walking within 15 minutes.
Night walking in the hills must be one of the best, yet equally daunting experiences any outdoor enthusiast can enjoy. This night was cold, close to freezing, there were a few small clouds floating about but the stars were exceptional. The initial 15 to 20 minutes of walking followed a well-defined yet boggy path. Thankfully the temperature nullified most of the squelch and provided soft crispy underfoot conditions. As the gradient steepened the path worsened and I spent more time stopped scanning the horizon with my headtorch to try catch a glimpse of the next section of path.
By now I was making exceedingly slow progress so after consulting the map I decided I could safely abandon the current plan, take a bearing and head as straight as possible to Meall Garbh. Inevitably the were a few sections steeper than ideal but nothing a few minor detours around couldn’t resolve. Whilst bumbling my way up this section the few brief clouds I noted at the car appeared to be somewhat more significant. Tired mind and body took over and the thought of this outing being a good idea seemed to shrink. I always find that being out in the hills alone in the night, despite being relatively close to civilisation can prove extremely lonely, but in a good way. Senses are heightened in a way no other normal hill walking can compare.
It may not look too intimidating in broad daylight but the view towards the east face of Glas Mheall Mor looked menacing. The moon was in the Waxing Gibbous, 90%, which provided a decent natural headtorch. Admittedly I didn’t recall this detail; the wonders of a quick Google was able to confirm! By the time I reached the summit of Meall Garbh at 609m the moon provided enough light and I was able to turn off the headtorch as my eyes had now adapted.
The section from Meall Garbh to Sron a Choire was quite relaxing in comparison to fumbling up the first hour or so. With the moonlight, greater visibility ahead and little to no snow cover I was for the first time beginning to feel confident that I would reach the summit of Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil by sunrise.
When I reached the bottom of the final push up Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil from 900m to 1062m the first sign of any potentially challenging snow appeared. A well-trodden route had compacted the snow which was intermittently changing from soft slushy snow to solid ice pack. This was the steepest section so far and I was grateful that twilight was now helping the moon and visibility was close to perfect. I cautiously meandered across the scree and boulders trying my best to avoid the patches of snow knowing I had plenty of time to cover the last few hundred meters towards the summit.
One of my favourite features of a good hill is a good ‘reveal’. Upon reaching Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil the view south towards the An Teallach ridge, which has been hidden the entire walk in, easily has to be one of the most spectacular. It reminded me of the first time getting onto the Cuillin Ridge and being blown away by the view east towards Loch Coruisk.
I had reached the summit at 05:43 based on the first photo I took, and according to Google sunrise was 05:47 on the 24th of April – quite impeccable timing if I do say so myself. By now it was light enough to see clearly, so I spent some time setting up the tripod and getting some test shots whilst waiting for the sun to rise above the horizon.
I had made it safely - happy days!
I would have loved to see a time-lapse over those 45 minutes as I was pacing across the summit of Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil trying to capture everything and meet self-timers – not always successfully I must add!
Over the years I have experienced my fair share of summit sunrises (with hopefully many more to come), and they never fail to remind you how worthwhile it all is. This Saturday was comfortably warm, the views in every direction were exceptional, I had what felt like the entire Northwest Highlands to myself. There is no better feeling.
Some highlights from those 45 minutes
The Walkhighlands route description of “There is no more impressive sight amongst Scottish mountains”, is bold, but hard to disagree with. Wow.
After all that walking I was ready for my lunch, despite the time of day. I devoured half my sandwiches whilst admiring what was to come. Having spent so long taking photos and admiring the ridge and Corrag Buidhe pinnacles I had spent hardly any time assessing the route towards Sgurr Fiona.
From where I was standing any ascent of Sgurr Fiona looked nigh on impossible but that is often the case from some distance. I descended to the bealach, somehow full of energy, adrenaline probably. I had marked on two routes up Sgurr Fiona with an easier path across the northern face or a more direct scramble near the corrie edge.
Descending to the bealach 
The more direct scramble 
Zoom of some of the pinnacles 
Getting closer, and aided with some zoomed in photos, it was clear the more direct and scrambly route was relatively snow free. Visibility couldn’t have been better, so I made the executive decision to head direct. It was a steep but straightforward scramble in comparison to what was lying ahead.
Looking back towards Bidein a’ Ghlas Thuil
It was just after 7am and I had reached the summit of Sgurr Fiona safely, now technically bagging both Munros. I knew I had a straightforward return route by retracing my steps back towards the car. When I was struggling about four hours earlier, I made a mental promise/suggestion that reaching both summits would be classed as a success and I shouldn’t tempt fate too much.
That being said when I reached the summit of Sgurr Fiona the view along Corrag Buidhe and the pinnacles was exceptionally enticing.
Enticed? 
Towards Fisherfield 
As you can see from the photos the ridge was almost entirely devoid of any snow, but I knew from driving along the A832 the day previous, this view/assumption could easily be misleading.
These are the types of days I long for, so I was extremely reluctant just to head back the way I came. If I had been with someone else, we would have spent a bit of time discussing the options, but ultimately, you’re often second guessing what the other person really wants to do. In that sense I was glad I was by myself. No one knows your own ability/decision making better than yourself.
In reality, I didn’t take too long to decide. I would at least head down to the bealach and then make a call whether to ascent towards Lord Berkeley’s Seat and enjoy some “fairly simple though exposed scrambling” or take the bypass option.
I was acutely aware that once up onto the pinnacles there would be a good section of scrambling to the final top, with the descent off the pinnacles of Corrag Buidhe being a graded rock climb and the scene of several fatal accidents…
Confident in my scrambling abilities and aware of my larger than ideal backpack I made the decision to head for the pinnacles with the overarching theory that if I didn’t think I could get down something I scrambled up, then I wouldn’t even attempt to head up.
The ridge itself isn’t massive in distance terms, but the quality of scrambling, exposure, and views more than makes up for it.
Some ideas of the exposure
Some ideas of the scrambling
Once up on the ridge the bypass route feels a good bit away…
Zoomed in
As I made my way along the ridge, I felt like a child in a play park, pure joy!
For any mountaineers or climbers, it will likely feel too easy, but for the average hill walker/scrambler with a good head for heights it is an excellent ridge. There were a few sections that took some careful navigation (I was airing on the side of caution, relatively speaking I guess – it would be less risky sitting in with a cup of tea…), but nothing too challenging. Most of the minor issues came from down climbing with a bigger pack.
I had successfully made my way to every top along the ridge and by now, 8am, I was pretty knackered.
Knackered, but happy
I was at the end of the ridge and just had to make my way towards Stob Cadha Gobhlach. With good visibility I proceed along to the end of the ridge and to what is classed as the graded rock climb. If visibility is poor, it would be easy to see why people would attempt to head down this route as it initially looks like the only option.
It was only 10-20 m or so that I had to retrace along the ridge to find what looked like a suitable option to scramble down to join up with the bypass path, which had now winded its way up the hill. This was easily the trickiest scramble down, but it was nearly all because my backpack was so large.
View towards Stob Cadha Gobhlach
Scramble down
Looking up the climb
Looking back, I was glad I avoided attempting to come down this route, but it looked like a fair enough scramble if you were heading up. Always easier to go up what you can see!
Deciding I was now “safe”, or at least I had navigated the most challenging/risky parts of the day, I vividly remember looking at the map and feeling quite dismayed to realise I still had about half the distance remaining to get back to the car, appreciate it was nearly all downhill. But still!
Looking back towards Corrag Bhuidhe
It was 9am by the time I reached the summit of Stob Cadha Gobhlach and I stopped for 15 minutes to admire the views.
Although exceptional, it’s not even close to being as dramatic as when you reach the summit of Bidein a Ghlas Thuil. I can understand doing the route clockwise would probably allow more chance of a successful scramble up, but if I was to do this route 10 times over, I reckon it would be anti-clockwise each and every time.
A nice rock…
The two Munros
A chopper
View for miles!
The Walkhighlands route recommends taking the southeast slope off Sail Liath and then making way towards the path leading down to the Shenavall bothy and Fisherfield. Tired minds leads to tired decisions and I decided a scree slope in a more easterly direction towards Lochan na Brathan looked more appealing.
Appealing it was not… 
I slid my way down the screen, occasionally picking up more speed than intended. I was extremely grateful when I reached the flatter ground. It was now 10:30 and I had been going for over 8 hours on a few hours’ sleep after a full day of walking the day before. I stopped at a fresh stream to replenish both water bottles, double check the map and make some calculation how long it would take me to get back to the car.
The stream and scree slope just to the right
I finished the remainder of my food and set off to join the Shenavall path. Having previously been down into Fisherfield I knew once I reached the path everything would be familiar, but I also remember it feels further to the Corrie Hallie car park than you would prefer.
Final photo of the ridge just before the path
When I reached the path, I seen my first couple of the day, they looked fresh and full of energy – I am sure I was somewhere on the opposite end of the scale. By now I had reached my enjoyment capacity and it became more of an army drill to get back to the car which I knew was loaded with junk food and energy drinks – I was dying for a coffee!
The remaining four-ish kilometres to the Corrie Halie car park went okay. I spent the walk reminiscing of the last time I was on this path. It was after finishing an exhausting two days in Fisherfield, I didn't bother with the map and checked the phone and mis-read the scale, convincing everyone it was only 1km to the car, rather than 4km it was... it was the longest "kilometre" of our lives!
Some of the locals
Once at Corrie Hallie I now had the hardest part of the day. Three to four kilometres along the A832 back to my car. It was grim. Very grim and felt never-ending, but the thought of a cheap knockoff energy drink kept me going.
Long way to go…
Newly born lamb at Kappoch Farm – I felt similar in energy terms!!!
It was about 12:30 when I reached my car and there were still people just packing to set off for their day in the hills. A quick baby wipe “shower”, change of clothes, plenty of fluids and I was ready to tackle the 3.5 hours home. I have no idea why after all this time the standout memory from the drive home was the fact I had demolished and entire large pack of Walkers Bugles Southern Style BBQ crisps from the Dundonnell Mountain Rescue base to the Corrie Hallie car park – delicious.
It has taken me nearly 8 months to get around to writing this Walk Report. I often find the days that were the most memorable are the hardest to put into writing. A subconscious feeling of dread to not do it justice, I guess.
I hope these photos and words do it justice!
I said at the start I don’t think I could, or would ever pick a favourite hill, and I won’t, but…
Thanks for reading
Andy
