Beinn Dearg Mor and Beag up the Gruinard River...slowly

[Sgurr]

THIS IS A REPORT SAVED FROM THE COLLAPSE OF SCOTTISHHILLS.COM


When? June 24th 2009-
Weather? Far too hot, with no wind, and hardly any cloud. Forecast heavy showers never came.
How? Via the Gruinard river
How Long? Approx 14 km cycling and 14 km walking. Ascent 1400m.
Dog Friendly? You’d need to carry even more water on the ridge.
Who? Squiz and Realsquiz (Sgurr and R.)

I had a look at the only trip report to date of these two hills, and didn’t like what I found. It had taken Cuillin, who generally walks at least 30% faster than me, 12 ½ hours to do it, via Shenavall. There had to be another way. Bothying was ruled out. One of us snores. On a holiday in Greece, a guy who had shared accommodation with us armed himself with a hefty stick and poked R in the back whenever he (or anyone else) snored in the next evening's hut. In the morning a man from Preston stretched himself and said “By…..last night, last night: that were like sleeping in a den o’ lions!” Hulking a tent into the Fisherfield was what nearly crippled R’s back, so we didn’t fancy that. However, there was an alternative. RCFC (Ross County Football Club) had said in his trip report on Beinn a’ Chasgein Mor that it had taken him a mere hour and a quarter to cycle up the Gruinard River track.

We booked into a B & B , and on the way, checked out the Gruinard river. We liked what we saw (below)


R asked the B & B’s hill-walking proprietor if he had done the trip. He had, and after consulting him, we changed the ascent from going up to the bealach between the two hills, to climbing Beinn Dearg Bheag by the north west ridge. We should have set off early, but instead had breakfast at eight, after all, as our hostess said, “The days are long just now.”

We were away up the track by 10 a.m. RCFC said that he had to lift his bike over the locked gate, but we found that the side-gate opened quite easily (something he may not have noticed in the gloom of January 2nd). We had to ease the handlebars through, but they went OK.


The track was fairly reasonable


There were two further gates, just latched.


When I got off my bike to ford a stream, R wasn’t behind me. Some while later he appeared: he had caught his pedal on the side of the deep rut he had somehow cycled into, and had been thrown off, and somersaulted several times entangled with the bike down a steep bank towards the river before he had managed to stop. He said he was OK, except that he had cut the inside of his mouth (but later on that night he had several bruises on his legs and side, and I woke up to find him comparing both sides of his rib-cage, because it had become so painful he thought he might have cracked a rib.)

We left the bikes, and a flask of coffee, at the end of the track at the beginning of Loch Sealga, where a couple of boats were pulled up.


We felt fairly smug, since we had done it in just over RCFC’s time (forgetting that the path had been covered in ice when he had done it.) However, here we were at 11.15 a.m.

At first we walked round the end of the loch,


Then we found a path beginning to wander higher up to avoid the place where cliffs went right down to the water’s edge. Finally we left what path there was


We aimed to avoid the 348 and 392 tops, and to reach the ridge where it started to rise up steeply 014825. Below


We avoided the crags at the bottom and climbed steeply up heather, then contouring round to nearer the eastern side of the ridge, up grass. It was steep going. Looking back, I wondered how anyone would dare descend this way. We were now into moss munching teritory


Every time we thought we were getting somewhere, we saw another top


And another


And another


And another (no, maybe this is just another photo of the same tops - I was almost hallucinating with heat by now)




“Thank you, Ian,” I thought and made a mental note to check the criteria people are using when they claim that one route is far better than the other. It later transpired that Ian had been on a Himalayan expedition with Hamish Brown when younger, and they had unofficially claimed a 25,000 foot peak (unofficial, since they didn’t have the required permit). We had sat down to have a drink around 1.30 p.m. I should have brought another litre, and could happily have glugged down what I was carrying, but it had to last to the top, and beyond, to Beinn Dearg Mor. I found the ridge quite trying, there were a lot of ups, and downs, and the heat was relentless. Below, part of the ridge I had just climbed down

The red stone gives the mountain its name
Finally we reached the summit at 3.15 p.m. Below - nearly there


I peered down to the bealach and thought what a simple effort it would have been to climb the hill from there.

From the summit. An Teallach


Beinn a Chasgein Mor


Beinn Dearg Mor


Looking back along the ridge


We extracted the lettuce and tomato from our sandwiches, and ate them, plus a biscuit bar each. Finally at 3.45 p.m. we set off for the second peak.


Towards the bealach we got more great views of the Fisherfield hills,


and looked below to the route of our descent


and found a rock rather like a stone-age rubik cube.


Here also was water. Not running water, and today it was swimming pool temperature with added tadpoles, the beautiful blue conceals the murk within


We shared the last of my bottle and filled it with this, adding a puritab, and saving R’s for the summit.
A good zig-zag path climbed Beinn Dearg Mor “This is the highest Corbett we’ve left to do!” said R, but he had forgotten that whilst he had climbed Foinaven, I hadn’t.


Below, looking towards An Teallach again


Looking back towards Beinn Dearg Bheag


When we reached the top of Beinn Dearg Mor, I recognised a pinnacle that Cuillin had posed on. When I saw it, I had thought, “No way would ANYONE get me to climb up there!” BUt there I am, on the summit.


However, it is relatively easy.


Below, looking into the gap between the split peak


Below, ascending Beinn Dearg Mor by this route would be rather too exciting for me


At the summit R’s legs went into spasms of cramp, so he had to risk the treated water, and have a dioralite which usually seems to sort the problem. We left the summit at around 6 p.m. and descended to the loch below by staying as near to BDM as we could, finding a slope that was fairly easy to descend


However, at least we could find running water and refill our flasks We reached the lochan by 8 pm and had got far enough down to start the trek back towards our bikes by 8.45p.m.


We decided not to go right down to the lake as Ian had told us that the path was no better than the intervening bit, so we stayed about 300 metres from the edge of Loch Sealga, but in wet weather, this might be a less good decision. All this while I had been mentally apologising to him, because bad as the ridge was, ascending this tussocky ankle wrenching way would have been worse. From here we could get a good view of Beinn Dearg Bheag and see clearly the towers we had climbed on the ridge to get to the summit.


We were walking more and more slowly


The low light gave us some great views of An Teallach


and our own hills.


We finally made it back to the bikes at 10 p.m where the midges were lying in wait for us. Thank goodness for the coffee, it was just what we needed. The sun, which had been blinding us as we faced into it, finally sank behind a hill, leaving us an hour to get back to the car..

After a few Km down the track , while we were struggling uphill, a tall guy ran past us. We knew that the guy who is running the Corbetts had planned to be on these two hills today, but hadn’t caught sight of him. “Is that Manny Gorman?” asked R. I didn’t think so, though we had only caught a glimpse when he had bounded past us on the Auch Five. See https://www.amazon.co.uk/Corbett-Round-Continuous-Traverse-Mountains/dp/0992771609/ref=sr_1_1?crid=25N08ZT0PR2SU&keywords=The+Corbett+Round+Gorman&qid=1664031749&qu=eyJxc2MiOiIwLjA3IiwicXNhIjoiMC4wMCIsInFzcCI6IjAuMDAifQ%3D%3D&sprefix=the+corbett+round+gorman%2Caps%2C83&sr=8-1. A few minutes later the guy came back uphill cycling a mountain bike. Later still a different guy shot past us on the same mountain bike. Finally we caught up with a woman. “Was that Manny Gorman?” we asked her, and much surprised, she admitted it was, and she was his partner Brenda who drove the dormobile and kept him fed. We told her that we had been following his progress on the net since he had overtaken us over a month ago. She had been meant to meet him on Sail Mor, but had got a message that he was running behind schedule. He had “only” managed Beinn Airigh Charr, Beinn Lair and Beinn a’Chaisgean Mor together with these two hills. What a man. Manny’s sidekick caught us up again as we were chatting. We arrived back at the car at 11 p.m. just in time to have a brief word with Manny, and to congratulate him on what he had achieved so far. He had been on top of Beinn Dearg Bheag at 8 p.m. and had ran down the north west ridge. Below, just another look at it.


Another wrestle with the midges, and we just managed to get back to the B & B in time to stop them calling out the Mountain Rescue.
So much for saying “No way” was I going to emulate Cuillin and spend 12 ½ hours on this expedition. It took us thirteen. But I was secretly pleased that these hills had taken even Manny Gorman longer than he had estimated.

[Roundfella]

Very much enjoyed reading that! What a day you had for it too. Very tough of R to do all that after a bad bike fall. Thanks for posting.