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It was starting to draw to a real close, the sunnier milder season, and Charlie was keen to get a few more hills in before the weather turned. I’d been up this way a few times recently, and November last year on a particularly miserable lateral rain and wind kind of grey day.
The forecast was for low cloud that would burn off, and pulling in to the ‘Glencoe Mountain Resort’* it looked a fair guess.
*Glencoe Mountain Resort not being in either Glencoe nor, arguably, Glen Coe…The car park was full of camper vans, the wee cafe building seeming to be starting the morning trade. It’s a convenient start, sure, but it’s a far from atmospheric start to a day in the hills. Given the view from the cabins is a fairly busy car park, I’m not sure it would be my first choice of holiday accommodation.
We headed up through the ski machinery and zig zagged up the track under the chairlift, quickly gaining height. As we reached the top of the slope that flattens out the chairlift’s gears and pulleys creaked into motion.
The sun started to make an appearance the lochs and lochans over Rannoch Moor white against the brown carpet of vegetation. The wooden boardwalk, already mostly crumbled on my last visit, seemed to have fallen into further disrepair. We turned on the path towards the wee hill (pt748 on OS maps).
We reached the bendy bridge, straightforward when dry though a little less so in the wet. After the bridge the path breaks and we left for the more direct and boggier leg which soon peters out to fairly deep pools of water and sphagnum moss and bog, easily avoided to the left/SE.
Rejoining the remnants of a path, things climb more directly up the shoulder of the hill.
A deer stood towards the edge, where the slopes plunge more steeply down to Cam Ghlean. The light wind was blowing towards us so it was sometime before it noticed us, despite our day-glo jackets. Its ears pricked up eventually and it disappeared gracefully down and out of sight.
We carried on following traces of a path, eventually weaving through rockier sections following a line of fenceposts. We’d arrived into the cloud, the grey stones under foot and grey surroundings slightly disorientating. As we continued upwards the roar of helicopter engines drowned out the sound of our boots on the loose stones.
We reached the top and stopped for a quick photo and some food. Though the clag appeared to be lifting it was fairly cold in the wind so we got moving fairly quickly. As we descended towards the bealach the sun made a concerted effort to break through, half failing but illuminating all open water and wet rock through the slightly murky clouds.
With the cloud down the slightly rocky route down to the 932pt felt narrow, as if each side dropped away to infinity despite it clearly doing no such thing.
A twite was perched on a boulder, chirruping away at our presence, though relatively unfazed by these two brightly adorned simians. As we dropped down further we heard that odd sound of the snipe in flight, though couldn’t make it out against the predominantly snipe-coloured backdrop.
Through the mist the narrower and rocky spur that leads to Creise looked intimidating for Charlie but as we began to climb it the clouds lifted and there were no difficulties. Meall a’Bhuridh looks like an imposing pyramid as you gain height and look back.
We emerged at the top of the long plateau, the sound of engines once again startling us slightly. A helicopter flew beneath us and appeared to be circling round - we assumed they were looking for Charlie Kelly who went missing here recently (thoughts with his family).
We headed along and reached the top finding a section of stones slightly down from the top to get some shelter for a bite to eat. The hill was mostly in cloud though it was moving fast and breaks increasingly opened up, teasing the views towards Glen Etive.
I was minded to head for Beinn Mhic Chasgaig but my walking partner could not countenance a plan that required that extra ascent for something not a munro - we compromised on heading back along and up to the top of Clach Leathad, a much more imperious top than Creise anyway.
As we followed our tracks back, the cloud had lifted fully exposing the views west. Breaks of light rippled through patches of high cloud brightening patches of the hills over towards Glen Etive, the south east spur of Bidean and Beinn Maol Challum.
The brightness came and went but the visibility had opened up giving clear views in all directions.
Though it was fairly cold at the top, we stopped for some time admiring the views, and looking down the steep crags that fall away into the coire beneath Clach Leathad.
On descent back towards the bealach between here and Meall a’Bhuridh the light was catching the top, now out of cloud, other walks easily seen as they navigated their way down the flank of the hill.
The dark crags of Clach Leathad looked imposing, two people seen at the top, one who we’d stopped for a short chat with on descent.
Before dropping down to the bealach we’d one last look backwards across to Stob Coir’ an Albannaich, patches of cloud now gathering as the afternoon sun heated the air.
We clambered back down the low point of the bealach, looking up at the final climb back up and over our first hill to get back to our start point. After the short slog back up to Meall a’Bhuridh we carried on straight down the slopes, motivated by the potential Green Welly stop for a bite to eat on the way down the road.
Descending, a number of hills stood out clearly - the Mamores framing the Ben and Nevis range behind Beinn a’Chrulaiste.
Paragliders floated calmly, moving in considered spirals high above the ground. I watched them, growing slightly vertiginous looking up at them in front of the Easains (photo zoomed of course!).
Slightly weary and back walking under the chairlift, passed overhead by people drinking coffees from the cafe, we made our way back to the car. The bookil absorbed the remainder of the early autumn sun, managing to retain an imposing blackness even in the light of the afternoon.
