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- Sgorr a' Choise (right) and Meall Mor (left).
Drenched refers to, of course, the rain; aquaplaning refers to how I got down from the second of the two Grahams on this walk. These were the two which sit south of Ballachulish, and I thought them a safe, quick and easy option for the day after my adrenal exploits over Aonach Eagach. My aches plus the 50mph wind and 'showers' forecast removed any guilt I felt about not attempting to add more Munros to this trip (it would have been Stob Ban with Mullach if I had, continuing over to Fort William). Lingering in 'Crafts and Things' (super little Glencoe cafe) beyond the required bus time to Kinlochleven nicely removed this temptation, and so it was I ventured out into the rain and through Ballachulish, needing only to finish in 6 and a half hours to catch the last bus to Fort William, but hopeful of doing it in 4 hours (ha!) to catch the one before that.This walk was preceded by 'Oh no! - Aonach Eagach!'
https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=125684
- Wet climb up the east flank of Sgorr a' Choise.
- Wet, on the ridge to Sgorr a' Choise.
- The rain takes a rare pause, higher on Sgorr a' Choise.
- Wet at the summit of Sgorr a' Choise, 663m. (2,175 feet).
The trek up Gleann an Fhiodh to access Sgorr a' Choise was not pleasant, today the rain deciding 'Great - a human path, thanks, an opportunity to make a river!' Two actual rivers almost barred the way to this little round. The first, a torrent coming down from the Munro, Sgorr Dearg, I could only just ford (if you can call it that) by toppling myself forward onto my hands onto a big rock on the opposite bank, then either being stuck there like a human bridge or hauling myself over onto my knees by tugging on a trusty heather stem. With the second, the River Laroch itself, I gave up on finding anywhere to do it dryly (having no faith in the cairn crossing point further along being feasible), and chose a bit I could just about wade across and stay upright. My feet were already as wet as wet can be, so it didn't matter; at least now it was game on. I acquired the first summit after a wind-blown trudge up soaked heath and along a ridge which might have been inspiring on a good day. Today it was just menacing, and a place to be moved on from before hypothermia sets in (in August it's possible yes).
- Deep bealach between the two, and I'm getting very wet.
- Feeling cold and wet, ascending the south ridge to Meall Mor.
- Wet and not warm, on Meall Mor, 676m. (2,218 feet).
Summit one attained, it still felt like no small task to add the second on this small 9-mile walk. Mountains are mountains, even if they are third division ones, as Highland 'showers' (it was conspicuously unrelenting for that description) and a deep grey-swept bealach does a good job of reminding you of. I was quite cold by the time I got down to this, and even with all my layers on - thermal base, good synthetic jacket, goretex waterproof (all of them soaked through now) - let's just say the half-hour ascent up Meall Mor's ridge did not warm me up. Water has a way of making you cold. But I got there, and now just had to get down. No path it seemed, and I was not about to backtrack down the same ridge thanks, so I chose to plunge (not literally I hoped) down the north ridge judging the contours okay probably. They looked slightly worse down the eastern face I had considered, although that would have avoided the forestry fun I landed in. First the aquaplaning fun! I found that my way down was safe enough, yet steep enough to facilitate matters by slithering down on my backside, using my hands as brakes if threatening to go too fast, and taking care to see there were soft ledgy bits below if I did. This was probably only possible because of the wet, and saved useful time and leg muscle, and 'so what if I was extremely wet instead of very wet' was my sentiment towards this. I generated a wake of spray to rival a jet-skier. When I was down, though, I wasn't down: I had to battle through the forestry section, which required 4 scrambles to and fro across a waterfall as I descended, to bypass botanical-based impossibilities.
- I descend off the north end. Here I aquaplane.
- This walk had its moments.
- Difficult forest terrain at foot of Meall Mor.
- I'm wet, cold and tired, so I don't need this.
My reward for these efforts was a good forestry track, which strictly-speaking I should not have been on, as I came upon a stern 'no entry' banner courtesy of Tilhill. CCTC cameras too, so it said. Well, I was not to know, coming from my direction. So, I suppose I trespassed 'out' of it instead of into it. I hope I'm forgiven. Further bonuses included a little blood-soaked history lesson (some late MacDonalds RIP) in the form of the Inverigan ruins, reminding me how little being rain-soaked mattered so long as you're (just about) warm enough. Not least, though, I reached Glencoe with 30 minutes to spare for the last bus to Fort William and the warm accommodation I had booked. Long hot shower ahead 
- Farewell to the Pap of Glencoe and, yeah, these two.
- 9 MacDonalds massacred here, others fled and froze. and all I can think about is being a little wet?
PS: The said 'warm accommodation' was Caberfeidh no.1 in Fort William, a simple but cosy and efficiently-run B & B. No frills, you're there and then you leave, and the owner is polite and just gets on with it. Breakfast epitomized this: smallish portions of sausage, bacon, egg and beans, an easy chomp - help yourself to yoghurts, juices and toast - for me that was how I liked it. Oh, yes, and there was an automatic refund when I had to cancel and rebook the dates for the West Highland Way three weeks ago, unlike elsewhere I have mentioned and still peeved by.
PPS: Loved the train journey home the next day - Scotrail then Avanti from Glasgow, everything on time! - and thinking I might start accessing Scotland in this fashion (particularly bus, actually) more often from now on. More cost effective, especially as I am beginning to like bothies.
