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2021 had seen Kev and I resurrect the annual pre-Christmas bothy night after the COVID pandemic had knocked that sort of thing on the head for a period of time. Last year had seen us meet in November, as is the tradition, for a night in Glenpean Bothy. I had squeezed in a night in A'Chuil the night before just for the hell of it and had ended up getting a puncture on the road in along Loch Arkaig and having to do a very unpleasant wheel change in the cold, dark, pi*sing rain before getting anywhere near the bothy.
This year we had been shunted back into the month of advent itself and after the usual deliberation, we settled on Glen Duror Bothy on the Friday night. The plan was more complex than usual and involved meeting at the Glen Duror car park at the end of the minor road off the A828 for the straightforward walk to the bothy (for what would be my third stay) with hefty overnight packs before walking back out in the morning with much lighter overnight packs and taking one car round to Ballachulish from where we would walk back to the other car over the long winding summit ridge of Fraochaidh.
Well that was the plan anyway and although the first part of it went more or less accordingly, it all kind of came apart at the seams on the Saturday morning. We had walked in in anticipation of having company in the bothy, given that a couple of cars were already parked up. Right enough, when we got there we found a busy place. There was Neil, an older English fella and seeming fount of all bothy knowledge, Gillian and Blair from near Falkirk (and their little dog Piper), and two blokes from the Flemish part of Belgium, Corneil and Seppe. The Belgians took regular weed breaks outside the bothy and were practically floating as a result while Blair struggled to come to terms with that fact that while he was working the 9 to 5 at the coalface, two Belgian dudes were "living the dream, cutting about remote Scottish bothies, dossing in garages in Ullapool and getting stoned!" The Ullapool thing was just one of several weird bits of conversation that cropped up in the course of a relatively short evening that you could write a relatively long book about!
There was enough fuel in the place (not to mention 7 humans and 2 canines) to ensure a toasty night for all (not that the Belgians would have noticed the cold anyway) and after a few hours of typical bothy craic over a few beers and whiskies (as well as my Christmas time bothy tradition of roast chestnuts), everyone turned in for a relatively early night.
I was first up in the morning and didn't take long to get the stove rekindled as the place slowly came to life. As breakfast arrangements got into full swing, Kev announced that he was going to have to bail and return to HQ, but not before giving the Belgians a lift round to Ballachulish from where they hoped to pick up a bus into Fort William and on to Inverness. I'm pretty sure Kev would have been passively stoned by the time they reached Kentallen!
I was now going to have to change my plans for the day as well. I could have gone up Fraochaidh from the bothy, certainly more quickly than the through route over from Ballachulish, but I have long said that when I get round to doing this Corbett it will be via this longer but far superior route. So Fraochaidh was aff!
Kev and the Belgians headed off and I treated myself to another coffee before packing up and following them out. Back at the car, which needed some serious defrosting, I set about reorganising and repacking the over night pack for whichever bothy I rocked up to that evening. As I was faffing about with the various intricacies of this procedure, Gillian and Blair appeared and started the defrosting procedure on their car before heading down the road for home.
Plan A had involved driving whichever car had remained at Duror back round to Ballachulish to collect whichever car had been left there earlier, after which Kev was heading home and I was considering heading for another bothy night in either Invermallie or Gleann Dubh Ligiche. The former I had never been in before, the latter I had lunched in once and overnighted in on another occasion. The former had a reputation for attracting crowds and not always of the most bothy-savvy variety, the latter I had enjoyed all to myself when I had stayed there 3 years previously. The former would allow me to do the wha-d'ya-ma-call-it with the unfeasibly long name on the north side of Loch Arkaig on the Sunday, the latter would be well placed for a Sunday raid on the two thingummy-jigs near Callop.
In the end, I decided to do the Callop G^#+<*s today and then head to one of the bothies and consider tomorrow's options tomorrow. Neil had not exactly gone out of his way to repudiate the reputation of Invermallie as a party venue so I was swaying firmly towards a repeat visit to Gleann Dubh Ligiche.
After a brief stop at the big car park on the shores of Loch Linnhe at Fort William to fire off a few Whatsapp messages, I pulled into the little snowy parking area near the start of the Callop access road at around 10.50 with one other car already in situ. I was off and walking by just after 11.00, past the spot where I had camped amongst the trees on the river bank and listened to the Euro 2020 (a.k.a. Euro 2021) Final on the radio on a fine Sunday evening 17 months ago while the cries of the obviously English occupant of a nearby camper van had become more and more anguished as the evening wore on!
Start of the walk in on the access road to the power station and Callop CottagesLate morning winter sun struggling to rise above the targetsNorth down the Callop River towards the car park with Sgurr an'Utha, Fraoch-bheinn and Beinn an Tuim across the A830I laboured up the hydro track past the turn off down to the bridge which I would cross on my return back to the car in several hours time, past the little dam and up to the gate in the robust looking deer fence at the foot of the long, narrow nose of Meall na Cuartaige. My labouring was due to the fact that other than a quick up and even quicker back down of Sgurr a'Mhaoraich in horrific conditions in September for Gammy Leg Walker's Munro Compleation, this was my first hill walking since July. It was also my first time walking on
G^#+<*s since the great trademarking controversy that saw them rebranded on this site as Fionas!
Meall na CuartaigeI recalled coming down off this rocky little ridge on that Sunday 17 months ago to return to the car after a round of the two Corbetts to the west. On that day I was steeling myself for the prospect of the Auld Enemy winning Euro 2020 and back at my camping spot, I sat by the car on a warm July evening and listened to them lose the penalty shoot out to the Italians. Now almost a year and a half later, on a bitter December day, I was on the same path as back then, steeling myself for the prospect of the Auld Enemy sneaking past the defending champions France into the semi-finals of the World Cup. It wasn't until the next morning and the walk back out from bothy to civilisation and 4G territory that I found out I needn't have worried. Harry Kane had made sure of that!
I skirted round the end of Meall na Cuartaige and passed the point where I would have descended to the path that day. Despite the good albeit bitterly cold weather and the prospect of a fine day of winter hill walking, I was struggling to relax into the walk and enjoy myself. An incident at work on the Friday afternoon had left me feeling quite rattled and powerless, and questioning my ability to resolve it in any sort of positive way. The situation had been festering away and building up for some time before reaching this stage yesterday, and this was playing on my mind to the detriment of my ability to enjoy my hill time. Slowly but surely however, as I walked south west along the frozen track and eventually began to climb to the point where the track drops down into Cona Glen, the sense of remoteness grew and with it a sense of remoteness from the issue that had been troubling me.
Western slopes of Meall nan DamhNorth back across the main roadWeak winter sun peeking over the ascent route onto Meall nan Damh with Meall Mor visible across Cona GlenIt's a dog's life with no work issues to burden them!It must be the depths of a Scottish winterBack down the glen between Meall na Cuartaige and Meall nan DamhEventually I had to leave the path before it started dropping me down into Cona Glen and take to the western ridge of Meall nan Damh. The scrambling was enjoyable but straightforward enough, the occasional thick patch of ice being easily avoided. I even managed to find an excellent little howff below an overhanging rock and sheltered from the wind in which to enjoy a spot of lunch.
Fantastic winter skies over the bealachStob Mhic Bheathain across Cona GlenWonderful scrambling on two legs or four!Stob Mhic Bheathain from near my lunch howffNorth back along the glen between Sgorr Craobh a'Chaorainn and Meall nan DamhSgorr Craobh a'ChaorainnCona GlenSgurr Ghiubhsachain across the upper reaches of Cona GlenEventually the powder snow became a bit deeper and less patchy, the gradient levelled off and I reached the western summit. From here the route ahead was all visible - east along the ridge to the summit of Meall Damh and then north over the bealach to Glas Bheinn. Loch Eil could be seen to the north east and the latter part of my route on that July day last year on the two Corbetts could be seen in the west.
Glas Bheinn and Meall nan Damh from the 722m western summitClag blowing through over Ghiubhsacahin and Craobh a'ChaorainnThe low point between the two summits on the Meall nan Damh spineStob Mhic BheathainDown Cona Glen to Loch LinnheA bit more Stob Mhic BheathainThe walk east from the 722m spot height to the fractionally higher eastern summit was a pleasure. The snow cover was thin and powdery, the wind was relatively benign and the December winter sky, already darkening at this relatively early hour, was providing some fantastic atmospheric effects of lights and darks that you really only get at this time of year in certain conditions.
Approaching the first Fiona of the day!Glas Bheinn and Loch Eil from the summit of Meall nan DamhGiven the scarcity of daylight in mid-December, I didn't dally at the summit of Meall nan Damh before continuing east for a short distance to pick up the connecting ridge northwards to the second target of the day. Almost immediately upon dropping down off the summit, the wind kicked up a real storm. We were being excoriated by the small icy particles that the wind was whipping up and wearing only light Craghoppers trousers below the waist, my legs felt like they were being machine gunned. Goodness only knows what Luna was thinking! I bowed to the inevitable and stopped to put the waterproof overtrousers on in the hope of some respite from the stinging storm.
Part of my mind was still considering bailing on Glas Bheinn, partly because of the deterioration in the wind situation (meteorologically speaking rather than anatomically) and partly because the light was going fast. I had two fully charged head torch batteries with me so wasn't overly concerned about the prospects of benightment, but I was aware that descriptions of how to vacate Glas Bheinn and return through the forestry to pick up the hydro track back to Callop were distinctly sketchy from what I had read in other reports. In the end though, the summit was just too close and required little time or effort to make the detour and the extra ascent.
Stob Coire a'Chearcaill and Cona GlenTurning north towards the summit of Glas BheinnThe long western arm of Meall nan Damh with Sgorr Craobh a'Chaorainn and the knobbly bump of Meall na Cuartaige behindThe sun about to bow out for the dayFinal approach to the summit of Glas Bheinn with Loch Eil stretching out below to the north eastLight show in the west from the Glas Bheinn trig pointLuna knows it's getting close to dinner time and that her dinner is still some distance awayLoch Eil and Stob Coire a'Chearcaill from Glas BheinnThe fading of the light over Meall nan DamhAgain, we didn't hang about unduly at the summit before dropping north west-ish down rough slopes to find a way back to our escape track. A broken down section of deer fence by the small dam and bridge over the stream at the southern end of the forestry led onto the track that I followed through a dark, mossy firebreak until I reached the bridge and the gate a short distance before the last little pull up onto the hydro track back home.
I just about made it back to the car without the need for the headtorch, the bright almost full moon doing a good job of lighting my way. Luna enjoyed a well deserved dinner while I got myself ready and we were soon heading the very short distance along the road to the parking spot at the end of the track in to Gleann Dubh Ligiche. There were 3 vehicles parked there already and suspecting that they all belonged to people currently in Gleann Dubh Ligiche bothy, I paused to consider the options. I have spent many a great night in bothies in the company of complete strangers, the most recent such time being less than 24 hours previously. However tonight I just fancied a more solitary experience. Maybe it was the business of Glen Duror last night, maybe it was the day of absolute solitude on the hill that had eventually done wonders to ease the stress of Friday's unpleasantness at work that I wished to carry on into this evening if possible. Either way, I made a quick decision to head a few miles further east along the road to Fassfearn and head for Glen Suileag. Having enjoyed an overnight stay there with Kev between two days on the neighbouring Corbett and
G^#+<*s in January 2019, something that Neil had said about it last night now made me keen to revisit.
I pulled into a deserted car park at Fassfearn just as Micah Richards said something on the radio about how he was confident that something was coming home (???), shouldered the hefty overnight pack and took to the track signed as a path to Glen Loy. An hour and a bit later, after a lovely moonlit walk in on the forestry tracks and across the frozen moors around the bothy, I was sitting by a roaring fire, Luna sprawled at my feet, downing a few beers and doing some sudoku while Harry Kane was downing low flying aircraft over Qatar.
