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Shiel & Saddle 9 and a Cautionary Cragfast TaleIt was nearing 9pm on the 31st of May 2021 and Andrew and I were getting final bits packed up and some last-ditch carbohydrates consumed. The plan was to spend the next couple of nights leisurely making our way along the South Glen Shiel Ridge and then onto the Forcan Ridge.
The South Glen Shiel Ridge is a Munro baggers’ dream with 7 different Munro summits, often tackled in a long but manageable single day walk. Some of the extremely fit will tag on the Sgurr na Sgine and the Saddle taking the total up to 9. We opted for ‘the 9’, which was a scaled back version of an earlier plan involving the Five Sisters… but this outing turned out no less epic, or dramatic.
Setting off from Andrew’s car – we had the convenience of the two-car approach
The walk in passed Cluanie Lodge was an excellent warm-up. It was a beautiful early summers evening; gentle wind, no midges, t-shirt / shorts weather (just) and not a soul in sight. We knew our route inside out but taking the bivvy bags meant we had nearly unlimited choices on where to stop for the night.
The first decision was to pick between bivvying down low at 410m near the Allt Giubhais or make our way up onto the ridge.
This is what it’s all about!
Once at the junction to leave the landrover track and head up Creag a’ Mhain the wind had picked up and was forecast to be quite gusty overnight. Combined with our biggest concern around the lack of water once on the ridge, we opted to stay down low and make the most of the just about acceptable water on offer in the morning. This was a good call.
Off to sleep just after 10:30pm
Nice long lie, setting off at 07:30am
The ascent up the first Munro, Creag a’ Mhaim was exceptionally windy and cold, although Andrew did battle through in shorts, so it clearly wasn’t that cold! The wind was concerning, and I remember doubting it would be enjoyable to stick with Plan A, so was already running through the various bail out options in my head.
Loch Loyne
Just after 9am we had reached the first of the seven summits planned for the day. In theory we had now done the longest and hardest section of climbing, and I was feeling it. Mornings are never my strong point.
We hunkered down just north of the summit and ate lunch/breakfast – better to have the calories in the belly rather than the backpack; quickly becoming my favourite moto and excuse from demolishing my lunch before 10am. It was hazy and mildly overcast but thankfully visibility was never going to be a concern with the cloud base so high.
The plan for the day was now clearly laid out on the horizon. We pulled out the map to cross-reference with the planned summits neatly circled and numbered. Just in case we lost count – really is a baggers delight.
The views are excellent along the South Glen Shiel ridge, but I would argue due to the very nature of the route they become quite “samey” as the day goes on. For that reason, combined with the fact it has taken me over 11 months to get around to writing this Walk Report I don’t intend to describe the route from Creag a’Mhaim to Druim Shoinnach to Aonach Air Chrith to Maol Chinn-dearg to Sgurr an Doire Leathain to Sgurr an Lochain to Creag nan Damh… in that much detail.
Let the photos do the talking
As it was a Tuesday, we didn’t reasonably expect to meet too many people throughout the day but given the reasonable weather it was quieter than expected. We met one gentleman on the summit of Druim Shionnach who was doing a shorter loop then bumped into a group of three going in the opposite direction far later in the day.
Water sources were limited, but we did find an excellent source (by that I mean we drank loads and didn’t end up with any ill effects), just off the summit of Sgurr an Doire Leathain, our fifth summit.
We filled up all bottles on the assumption it would need to be enough to see us through the rest of the day, enough to boil up to feed us for dinner and potentially breakfast.
If doing the entire ridge in a day you would need to keep a consistently fast pace, but because we had the luxury of bivvi, we knew we could stop and sleep pretty much anywhere. We had at one point considered getting up to Sgurr na Sgine, but it became apparent early on that reaching the summit of Sgurr a’ Bhac Chaolais would be a reasonable stretch-target. Bearing in mind if you were doing a day route you would have a significantly lighter pack.
I have no recollection of what time we reached the Bealach Duidh Leac, where you would normally descend down to Glen Shiel, but I have extremely vivid memories of being particularly knackered! The kind of knackered where your boots feel 10 times heavier than they did in the morning. The bealach is at 730m and the summit of Sgurr a Bhac Chaolais where we planned to camp was less than 1km away and only 885m, so 155m of ascent.
In nearly all my outings into the hills I tend to start slow but can plod along for as long as needed and finish relatively strong. This evening was a huge exception to my norm. I felt awful, and Andrew seemed to be continually finding more energy. The slog up those final 155 meters was very much a slog! For those experienced enough in the hills, it was 10 counted steps, followed by 1 minute rest type of ascent.
Settings on the camera confirm it was still just before 6pm by the time we did eventually reach the summit. The thought of going any further was out of the question, and thankfully it was an epic spot for a bivvi.
Our bivvi spot. A few adjustments of final (for the night) resting place…
No amount of wealth will ever be able to buy the feeling of sitting at 885m, sore feet, wind beaten face, about to sleep in a glorified waterproof bag, using a map in a protective case as a seat, and the sheer enjoyment you get from holding onto 1000kcal meal (mushroom risotto, if I recall correctly) as it rehydrates for the longest 8 minutes possible. Sounds horrible to most, but I genuinely love it, what a buzz!!! It’s at this moment the seven Munro summits, although epic, really mean diddly-squat – this is what it is all about.
I’ll be classed as a “Munro-bagger” until I compleat then I’ll be a “compleator”, but the reality is I don’t class myself as either, it’s just a by-product, because I just really, really, really enjoy the discomfort of these big-days, the physical and mental challenge and stripping everything back to basics, which in these days is unattainable for most. A hot meal, a plastic spork, no mobile signal (I can’t verify if that was correct) and good chat with a good pal accompanied with exceptional evening views – this is the golden ticket.
The sun would rise around 04:50, because we went to bed so early, I made a call I was going to try get up to see it.
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day
Red sky at night shepherds delight, red sky in the morning,
hillwalkers warning??
Full of optimism, and blissfully unaware of what was coming we packed up and set off towards Bealach an Toiteil where we were 95% confident there would be a good enough water supply to cook up some porridge before tackling Sgurr na Sgine which we had planned to skirt around to the southwestern flank.
Heading down to the bealach in the beautiful morning sun
We reached the bealach and found a cracking water source just to the north. Andrew cracked out the JetBoil to get his porridge ready. I can’t stomach anything that dense that early, so I ploughed through a few breakfast bars and Jelly Babies.
Whilst sitting eating breakfast and enjoying the sun becoming warmer, we applied some sun cream and decided that the gully up the east face of Sgurr na Sgine looked like a more exciting route for me to reach my 200th Munro summit. We had all the time in the world so, no rush.
Breakfast spot
The gully
It was close to 07:30 when we started making process up the scree-based gully. It was as expected, very loose underfoot. We left a good safe distance between each other to allow the mini rockslides to come under control or enough time to get out of the way. When we set off it was clear there was one large boulder jammed in the narrowest part of the gully that was always going to be the biggest/only obstacle for us to overcome.
It was steeper than it looks in the photos 
We continued to make steady progress, and it was more exciting than the initial plan.
Andrew steadying himself whilst assessing the obstacle. 
We gathered at the base of the boulder. It was sheltered and had a cold wet atmosphere to it. There wasn’t much room for the two of us and our rucksacks. This was compounded by the fact the ground was exceptionally loose and was giving away frequently without any warning. There were exceptionally limited handholds that were sturdy enough to reliably hang onto. I spent most of the time on a 4-finger crimp of about 2cm.
Over the next couple of minutes, we assessed the best plan of action. If we didn’t have 44L rucksacks it would have been a relatively easy scramble for both of us and we were confident once above, it would remain steep but become grassier and we shouldn’t have any problems to the summit.
Then we made our first mistake.
Mutual agreement was Andrew would take his rucksack off and scramble over the boulder, I would then pass both the rucksacks up and scramble up to join him. As expected, Andrew made light work of getting over the boulder, but once on the other side there was absolutely no way he could lean over to collect his, or my rucksack, without the risk of a head-over-heels type of descent – neither of us wanted that!
Now we were stuck. Well neither of us as individuals were technically stuck, but as a pair, we were completely stuck.
I couldn’t see Andrew, but we could converse as there wasn’t a breath of wind.
I had all the paper maps, compass and both our phones…
There was consideration I could chuck both rucksacks over the boulder, which we did consider with some seriousness. Thankfully we reach consensus that there was no guarantee I’d be able to hold my footing, or that Andrew would be able to stop them flying back down the hill and potentially wiping me out.
Since a forgettable night out in Loch Mullardoch in 2019, I had played everything relatively safe and hadn’t had any “near misses” in the last two years. This wasn’t in the same league, but it was beginning to get a bit tense.
The more I thought about it, I wasn’t even 100% confident Andrew would have a clear push to the summit, and I was stranded with both bags.
You could sense the trepidation in both our mannerisms, but there was never any panic.
I couldn’t stay where I was for much longer. My grip was failing, and worse my calf was quivering with the strain of two rucksacks.
We spoke through all our reasonable options and the associated risks. Unless we were to remain put and seek help, which wasn’t an ideal situation, we would need to make a move one way or another. We agreed that I would attempt to head down to about 800m and then skirt around west with both rucksacks. Andrew would head up close to the summit and then come down the flank we had initially intended on. Hopefully we would meet somewhere between the 820 and 750m markers – bearing in mind I had all the maps. The clear agreement was if the rucksacks became problematic, I would leave Andrew’s, or both and we could always return to retrieve.
Within seconds it was impossible to hear each other. All I could hear was the continual rocks sliding down. Each step was creating a mini-boulder avalanche. I kept my rucksack on and carried Andrew’s down in one hand using his roll mat to balance it against the side of the gully when I needed both hands to scramble down. There was one point where I thought Andrew’s bag was going to make an exceptionally quick descent down to the bealach, but I just managed to keep hold.
A problem shared should be a problem halved. This problem was shared, but it felt doubled.
After a few minor tumbles I made it out the gully and began to skirt around. It was steep and grassy, so I inevitably slipped a few times, but that was most likely because my legs were now feeling a bit like jelly. The worst part without a shadow of a doubt was having no idea what progress Andrew was making.
Andrew then popped up about 100m above me and shouted down. What a flipping relief – he didn’t look like he had lost any limbs. He was probably glad I still had his rucksack. It must have only been 10 minutes, but it felt like much longer.
I headed up and we plonked ourselves down and debriefed on the situation.
A lucky escape, but agreement we handled the situation well. We avoided panicking and making any rash decision, other than maybe heading up the gully in the first place. I didn’t realise how many bumps and bruises I had taken until the next day, just goes to show what a good job adrenaline does at hiding pain.
Safe and ready for the Forcan Ridge!!
I have no recollection of the final accent up Sgurr na Sgine but I was very grateful to reach the summit of my 200th Munro safely!
What a country, and what a day!
Once at the summit of Sgurr na Sgine we were now back on a recognised route and got a great view towards Forcan Ridge, which surely wouldn’t cause any (more) drama.
Forcan Ridge
The route to the Bealach Coire Mhalagain was easy going. We stopped at the bealach and applied more sun cream – it was a scorcher.
View up towards The Saddle 
Interested spectator
Frozen lochan just off The Saddle summit
Once we reached The Saddle summit the view of the Forcan Ridge really opened up and looked quite intimidating. I think most people head up the Forcan Ridge and on to Sgurr na Sgine rather than down the ridge.
Some of the view
Worse ways to spend your days
Idea of the exposure
Most of the difficult or most exposed sections could be relatively easily bypassed but there were still a few sections that needed some hands and knees.
I remember thinking at one point the ridge never seemed to end or looked like ending. Every time we got over one scrambly section another chunk appeared in the distance. We also still felt particularly high, and the road didn’t seem that far away. A lot of down to go in a short distance!
The final section down presented the most difficult section, but I can’t say with any confidence that we opted for the easiest route. Andrew had one section where his ginormous roll mat wouldn’t fit appropriately down our chosen line – thankfully he has now since moved to the air mat side, game changer!
Some snaps of the final section
It was with great relief on body and mind when we reached the 601m marker and all that really remained was a gentle stroll back down to my car, which was (hopefully!!!) still sitting intact at the side of the A87.
The final descent – always feels never ending!
Thankfully the car was there and an unlimited stash of roasty toasty warm water was now available. We quickly got our stuff together and headed towards Andrew’s car at the start of the route for a more detailed pack/re-pack.
It was a glorious sunny day for a drive home. I was heading to Helensburgh and Andrew to Glasgow, so we ended up in a very slow convoy for most of the journey, with what seemed like most of the country and their campervans. We stopped at Fort William and I had the best sushi I have ever eaten from Aldi. Weird how certain memories are crystal clear after 11 months when most vanish into oblivion.
In conclusion we had an epic couple of days – more adventure crammed into one trip than I have had for a long time. Each of the individual parts would have made for a memorable Walk Report; the Glen Shiel 7, or the high bivvi, or the Forcan ridge, but all three with a “minor” cragfast event thrown in the middle makes for one heck of a trip! The Forcan ridge was probably my favourite mainland ridge so far, much preferred to Aonach Eagach, will 100% be back at some point in time.
Remarkably now only 6 Walk Reports behind real-life…
Thanks for reading
Andy
