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This week's music comes from Donald Fagan in the form of the rather lovely "Snowbound". Not that we were actually snowbound this weekend, but there was quite a lot of it about at least on Friday.
Having sickened ourselves with Grahams around Comrie, it was time for something different. I had planned for us to head to Mull for a few hills over there. It's an island, thought I, it won't be snowy over there. Ha! I'm sitting at the computer on Wednesday night looking at some webcams (courtesy of
www.meteoblue.com - quite a useful site if you don't know about it). Anyway, there's snow to ground level in Oban and on Mull. So that idea goes out the window - the Grahams over there are tough enough without adding in snow. What else could we do? Using the same webcams I see that it's clear to several hundred feet around Ft William. So we'll head up that way - there's a few Corbetts needing done up there and we can be flexible in what we might take on.
It's a cold drive up on Thursday night. We are going to use one of the wild camp spots we regularly use up that way and it's -4 when we drive up around 8pm. The northern lights appear to be glowing in the sky, the stars are certainly out and the night is going to get colder by the look of things. Tent up, I've forgotten to bring the foam mats we use under the thermarests in the winter...into the sleeping bag fully clad (with two warm jackets on and a thick woolly hat). The gas canister comes in too...
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Al, on Flickr
Crunchy ice underfoot when we emerge from the relative warmth of the tent. Today is supposed to be a cracking day with excellent visibility. I reckon we should do Beinn Odhar Bheag and Beinn Mhic Cedidh, a nice circular route. I recall trying to do them a few years ago on another very cold day - we only managed Beinn Odhar Bheag due to deep snow that time. Today would be different - I didn't think that the snow would be that deep today (fingers crossed). I haven't worked out a different route for these hills, so we stuck to the standard approach. Parked up at the level crossing gate and set off into a light covering of crisp snow. It wasn't too deep, thankfully, at least at the start. A bit more effort was required to get to the head of Coire a'Choin Duinn. Looking across to the distant peak of Beinn Odhar Bheag, the snow did seem more challenging. I recalled the undulations between Beinn Odhar Mhor and Bheag, and the steep pull up to the summit of the latter. First we had to get there...
A cold morning
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
White Rùm
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
B.O.Bheag
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Al, on Flickr
Mhor was reached without too much effort. Beautiful 360 degree vista of white mountains from the top. Then it was the journey to Bheag - deep drifts in places, occasional glimpses of bootprints of someone who had been up yesterday. W reached the base of Bheag and scanned the bet line to take up - avoiding deep snow was the key. More stunning views from the top, down Loch Shiel and all the fabulous mountains of Moidart. Across from me, as I stood waiting for Allison to reach the top, the Simm of Beinn a'Chaorainn. Too much extra effort for a day like today - but I'll get it sometime! Looking west towards Beinn Mhic Cedidh it seemed our second Corbett was a tiny thing, with the shoulder up from the bealach surely not more than 150m? Of course, as we descended the northwest tail of Bheag, with snow dunes reminiscent of a white Sahara, the height of Mhic Cedidh kept growing, until, by the time we reached the bealach it would take a full 300m to get up to the top.
Skye from the summit of B.O.Mhor
7B22F7EB-63AB-4A0C-9EE0-21FDE5320C22_1_201_a by
Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
Loch Shiel
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
Mhic Cedidh
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Al, on Flickr
It was a long pull in the conditions. The snow was intermittently soft then crusted. It was almost 3.30pm by the time we summited and I knew - given we still had some 7km to go, that we'd be doing some of the walk out in the dark. As long as we're off the hill, I thought to myself. I recalled some craggy bits going down the shoulder, although as long as you keep to the route there's nothing too bad. But I still didn't want to be doing it in the dark. I had scoped out a possible route retracing our steps down to Bealach a'Choire Bhuidhe and following the Allt back to the track, but I reckoned we had enough time to get off following the standard route. Important to get the right line down from the summit, as there's various craggy bits near the top, but after that it's all good. ice under the snow meant that we kept crampons on for much of the descent.
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Al, on Flickr
South to Croit Bheinn
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
Eventually, after a glorious sunset and some alpenglow on the hills across the A830, we hit the ATV track. It's still a long walk back to the car, with an uphill road walk at the end, but at least we knew where we were going. head torch was an issue however - having moaned about my old Petzl being next to useless some weeks back I had my bright Lidl torch organised...that is until I found that it wasn't working at all mid-week. So I had to make do with a glimmer from the Petzl while Allison bathed in hundreds of lumens from her lamp. We hit the tarmac about 6pm and slowly slogged up the roadside to the car. I could not be mithered driving anywhere and I suggested to Allison we look for a flat spot on the other side of the train lines. Eventually we found one, maybe 200m from the car and set about putting the tent up. In the snow and heather tussocks. Not the best terrain to pitch into, but we were both tired and just wanted food and to lie down.
Looking at the weather forecast for overnight, the Met Office had Glenfinnan with winds of 40mph and gusts to 60, which was worse than the summit of Ben Nevis! Something not quite right somewhere there... But it did get windy. I was hoping for a quiet night, once the occasional traffic on the A830 subsided for the night. The stars were out again, we tried to sleep. About 9.30 a number of cars pulled up into the lay-by where our car was, then some low pitched thrumming noises start. I peer out of the tent to see there's a work gang and a digger doing who knows what down there. This continues til almost midnight. After they stop digging, turn off the bright lights and disperse it is the turn of the wind to prevent sleep - it gets really gusty, barrelling into the broadside of the tent. It's raining heavily too - I know I should get out there and check the guys, maybe put a couple of extra lines in but I feel far too exhausted to bother, so instead we are kept up by the side of the tent being blown in. As it's Allison's side, I'm not that bothered😏. But neither of us slept.
We had decided to do Bhraigh nam Uamhachan on Saturday (Streap was judged a step too far) and I knew we should really be up quite early as it's a long walk. 7.20am and there's no way I am getting up - I try without success for a few winks and we eventually start stirring about 8.30. The wind has at least dried off the tent and it feel significantly warmer than yesterday. Blearily we take the kit back to the car and drive the few miles to the car park at Craigag. Icy approach road up to it. We get ready to go and, for the second time, take the wrong route, going through the gate and heading towards the radio mast. I blame the lack of sleep. When we last did Uamhachan we walked over a km before noticing the error. This time round I notice after 650m, but it's still an additional 1.3km onto what is already going to be a long day. With muted curses we turn around, go back past the car and to the beginning of the actual route, up Gleann Dubh-Lighe. The track still has icy snow in places and progress can be slidey. We make it past the bothy, faint smell of woodsmoke in the air, and along the track to the gate which marks the beginning of the uphill section.
A7B72AF6-3925-4B73-9DD5-8208CA61BE59_1_201_a by
Al, on Flickr
This is the bit I remember most about Uamhachan - the awful slog uphill by the fence over tussocky grass. Slowly, slowly we get to the top of this section and keep the deer fence in sight as we enter the clag and make for a vague hill-like thing ahead. Progress is slow - we stop for lunch at around 500m knowing we've a lot of ascent ahead of us - for a small Corbett of only 765m it costs almost 500m extra in ascent (I think WH figures are wrong when they say total ascent is 1038, even if you don't go wrong right at the start 😊). Anyway, there would be no views today, just a general sense of how much less snow was around than yesterday. Plod, plod into the mist. Sometimes we would see bootprints, but they didn't become consistent until we started climbing up Sron Liath, by the wall. Deep drifts crossed the otherwise modest sugar-snow left. A brief steep descent from Sron Liath then easy going til almost at the summit. There was one further surprise awaiting us - there's a narrow "waist" just before the top, where the mountainside plunges down on both sides. Today this was linked by a double cornice/snow bridge that gave a few airy moments going across, especially with the wind trying its best to bowl you over. Summit reached at 2.45pm - four and a half hours to gt up here...we'll have another walk out by torch I guess.
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
Heading back along our own footprints, something I quite enjoy. You can stop concentrating, knowing that as long as you can see your own prints (and hopefully you've not mixed them up with someone else's and are now going to a different destination entirely) you can just exist on autopilot for a bit. Certainly easier than having to constantly navigate through clag. By the time we'd got to the steep descent alongside the fence line it was twilight. Allison was not enjoying the uncertainty of where her feet might be landing, and struggled down, eventually putting on her torch. I sat waiting for her by the gate. We then plodded along the track. I half entertained the possibility of using the bothy - dry and out of the wind. It would mean that I'd have to walk the 3km back to the car for the kit and walk it back to the bothy, whilst Allison rested up. However, as we passed by we could see faint light from within and the smell of woodsmoke was stronger - neither of us felt like company, so we kept on walking.
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Al, on Flickr
Back at the car around 6.30, having enjoyed the total darkness of the forest, we ended up returning to where we'd pitched on Thursday night. All the ice had gone and the ground wasn't even that waterlogged. Disturbed a few deer as I went down to pitch, their eyes glowing spookily in the torchlight. Another late evening meal, a bit of Jane Eyre then try and sleep. With some more success than the night before, but not fully rested - both of us having vivid dreams of walking endlessly through snow. The rain, which had started just as we pitched the tent, continued most of the night. When we arose there was even less snow around and the car thermometer was reading 9.5C. Some change from Friday. What would we do? Neither of us had much energy left, so something quick was required. We settled on the Pap of Glencoe - which had been a white cone just a few days ago, but we reckoned it wouldn't have much whiteness left.
A dreich drive down to Glencoe village. The clag is still down, but from what we can see there's precious little snow anywhere. We take axes just in case, but I dump the crampons from my pack, convinced they won't be required. We have never climbed The Pap on its own - first time it was after the Aonach Eagach, second time with Sgorr nam Fiannaidh. We park at the end of the village and walk along the orbital trail for a bit, avoiding the road. Then up past the farm on an eroded track. Wet but no snow or ice. There's a couple some way ahead of us but otherwise no-one about. A few black sheep look on us suspiciously as we pass by. Drizzle, clag and wind. Before starting on the final steep ascent to the summit we try to find a sheltered spot behind some rocks for a bite of lunch. The up we go. We see the other couple coming down a different path to that we take up. A small section of slushy snow right at the top.
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
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Al, on Flickr
The summit appears to be a repository for the remains of fruit. Citrus peels, banana skins, watermelon rinds, dragonfruit husks, pineapple coats, cherry pips all litter the cairn. I accept that only some of these are there in reality. I don't really understand taking fruit to the summit anyway - dried fruit yes, but a banana? Would get bashed in the rucksack, unless you had one of those plastic "banana cases". And how do they work, actually? bananas are various shapes and sizes...And after lugging the fruit to the top of a hill, virtue signalling how healthy you are, you just discard the fruit wrapping on the ground? Would the people who engage in this fruit littering behaviour just throw their empty fruit rinds on their carpet if they eat a piece of fruit at home?
C267AC70-A326-4BF9-83EE-3BB8A26AD986_1_201_a by
Al, on Flickr
We headed down, still enveloped in clag and drizzle. The sheep had gone, probably off to plot something. Reached the car just before 3 and had an uneventful drive home, with the exception of driving past Speedomick who's doing JOGLE in...Speedos. In January. I can't imagine how you can wade through knee deep snow wearing Speedos, or how you cope with driving rain that goes straight down your bare legs into your boots... and that's without having to walk down the A82 Loch Lomondside which must be one of the worst roads to try and walk along. And he was at the summit of Ben Nevis on Monday
Anyway, good wishes to him, all for a good cause.
