Am Faochagach Trade Route

[Bonxie1]

Beinn Dearg and Cona Mheall and the weather looking good!

It had been 5 months since I was last on the hill, with work, weather and niggly muscle injuries conspiring to keep me down at sea level in Orkney. At last, though, I was good to go again, and so I chose Am Faochagach as a remnant section 15 hill to re-visit as part of my (slow!) second Munro round. I’ve no doubt that I first did this hill on skis, and there were moments spent plootering through its bogs when I dearly wished I could have done the same again! Still, at Torran Bridge in the early afternoon, Loch Glascarnoch was very low, and the sun shone beautifully on the twin peaks of Beinn Dearg and Cona Mheall – all was looking good.

Wet conditions underfoot always gives Cross-leaved heath...

There is, however, an early warning of very wet ground conditions underfoot the moment that you cross the A835 (Ullapool road), push through the sentry box of shrubs, and set to curve with the contours across the bog to the infamous river crossing of the Abhainn a’ Gharbrain. This watercourse can spate very quickly as it’s fed by Loch Gharbrain, just upstream, which in turn is fed by the southern flanks of Beinn Dearg and Cona Mheall. It had been such a wet summer that I was prepared for the worst, and had packed crocs to help steady me through its waters.

Down to the Doddies, but across the Abhainn a' Gharbhrainn!

Looking across the interminable bog to the twin peaks of Dearg and Cona Mheall.

As I made ready to cross, a fellow walker appeared upstream, crossing from the other bank. He had simply followed the path and crossed at its terminus with the river. I, on the other hand had wandered downstream a little, hoping for an easier pitch. In the end I crossed just near the northern tip of the island, and, stripped down to underpants (Down to the Doddies!), and with the aid of crocs and walking poles, the crossing was trouble-free. I re-booted and followed a path at the base of the drumlinesque bluff of Cnoc a’ Mhoraire, before following the edge of the Allt na h-Uidhe and a steep climb up to the ridge of Drochaid a’ Ghlas Tuill. Now, all this sounds very easy, but the steep and very wet path requires care, and as a result, the going was slow.

The bog flowers are beautiful though, here's Bog Asphodel.

And a Sundew - to be encouraged, they're insectivorous and eat midges!

Slow progress has some rewards, though, with views to the rear, beyond Loch Glascarnoch, of the Fannich ridge nearby, with the Fisherfield peaks way beyond. To the north in between the twin peaks, lay the magnificent Choire Ghrànda beneath Beinn Dearg. By now, though, the sun had been replaced by grey, overcast skies, and it was obvious that conditions would worsen, with perhaps rain ahead. That would be unlucky. I concentrated instead on the route ahead. Heath bumblebees fed on the ling and I ate occasional blaeberries as I photographed a few late hill flowers by the path. Bog asphodel, Cross-leaved heath, Ling and Sundew diverted my attention and slowed my progress even more. Just beneath the ridge, a lizard wriggled off and views eventually opened up NW to the big hills of Dearg and Cona Mheall. Two hours from the start saw me strolling along the broad ridge of Drochaid a’ Ghlas Tuill, listening to the calls of Ptarmigan (but not actually seeing them!), and wondering how long it would be before I donned my waterproofs as the rain that was catching me up from the south. The crop of crowberries on this ridge was incredible – good news for the Ptarmigan! 3 Ravens flew nonchalantly by.

Fantastic views appeared of Choire a' Ghranda beneath Dearg.

Choire a' Ghranda closeup.

The ridge ahead rises to a point at 844m, although a useful track by-passes the minor summit to the east, and enabled easy going, so I stopped for food and donned full waterproofs. On the plateau ahead, two obvious tracks ran parallel, with the lower one curving eastwards towards Meall Gorm. I crabbed left (west) to pick up the higher of the two tracks, which leads to the summit flanks. By now though I had not just rain, but mist had rolled in too. One of Am Faochagach’s attributes is as a viewpoint, and unfortunately this had now been denied me.

There was a wonderful crop of Crowberries on the ridge.

Quartz vein on the way to the summit.

Perhaps I was feeling sorry for myself, but almost immediately I made a minor navigational error by ‘zagging’ too far right in the mist, taking me along the western ridge towards Meall Gorm. Fortunately, as I began losing height, I realised the error of my ways quickly and took a compass bearing back to correct the detour. I’d lost perhaps 15 minutes because of the error, but in the thick mist I chastised myself - I should just have taken a bearing in the first place! Doh! I soon made the upward slopes again, and so I relaxed, confident that I was back on track. I crossed several strange tiers or platforms perhaps carved by solifluction, then a vein of quartzite, so weird things were happening in the mists! A small flock of golden plover also ‘pleeped’ their way off the hill, adding strange noises and shadows to my world. Somewhere up there in a mist-window I saw another walker, again going in the opposite direction to me, but I eventually made the summit late in the afternoon, some 5 hours after starting out.

Summit selfie, Am Faochagach.

I had bivvy gear with me, and wondered about carrying on north over Meallan Bàn, and around Coire Làir to do Cona Mheall and Beinn Dearg in the morning, so I sat around for 30 minutes or so to give the weather a chance to sort itself out and clear – which of course it didn’t! In that case, I thought that I’d better scram and get off this hill with whatever light remained. From that point on, I didn’t hang around, as I knew that not only would I lose the light, but there was also a certain river crossing to negotiate, no doubt under crepuscular conditions.

Shaft of light across Sron Liath.

Finding this cairn was the key to the descent.

The sun did indeed disappear behind the Fisherfield hills out west at exactly 8pm, giving a splendid light show both before and after ‘sunset’. Walking southwards along the ridge was easy though and I was able to enjoy the spectacle. I often find myself on hills very late owing to late starts after the drive south from Orkney, and it’s not unusual for me to be rewarded by such sunsets. I’d nicknamed one small cairn on the ridge the ‘Ptarmigan cairn’ on the way up as it had two secondary cairns on it that I’d at first thought were Ptarmigan from a distance. Finding this cairn was key to the descent as it led directly to the path. The downside was that there was much less light to study the steep path following the burn down. Walking poles were invaluable in this descent and helped me to maintain some speed. I rounded Cnoc a’ Mhoraire and arrived at the river crossing precisely 8 hours after starting out at 21:15. By now it was pitch black, and I stood on no ceremony, stopping briefly only to find and turn on my headtorch before plunging straight into the river with boots on and walking poles deployed! Of course I got wet feet, but I was across the river in an instant and had only a half-an-hour or so to squelch my way back to the campervan.

Spectacular light out west over Fisherfield.

I had a fine Wolfburn dram that evening (from the Thurso distillery) and slept like a bairn. On reflection, the ‘heathery-place’ is just that, a steady, some would say relentless, pull through bogs, steep wet paths and ridges. It’s never going to make anyone’s ‘favourite Munro’ list. That said, I was happy just to be on the hill, and the light show that I was treated to on the way down was reward enough for my travails. Only another 256 to go!

Safe home and at the Wolfburn!