Creag Ghaunach and Moorland Mess-up

[The English Alpinist]

Creag Ghuanach awaits, slightly grumpier than yesterday perhaps (it, not me).

This walk was preceded by 'Two Treig Munros from the South'
https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=127811

Plans and realities. I had a plan A, B and C. Plan D was the one that happened.

For my third day, I decided I had a choice of three itineraries. One way or another, I had to reach Kinlochleven from Ossian Youth Hostel - well, not 'had to', but had to if I didn't want to have wasted a £60 accommodation booking and return travel fare, on top of buying a new return travel from Corrour, on top of that feeling of wimping out - so that was the challenge. I could stick with plan A which was to go over the top of Leum Uilleim, thus a Corbett into the bargain. It would be a wild descent to Loch Chiarain Bothy (for lunch), thence along what I expected to be good paths the rest of the way. Plan B was to trek back up the track to Loch Treig and take in Creag Ghuanach, since it had eluded me yesterday, thence through Gleann Iolairean to similarly pause at the Bothy. Plan C was to do the latter but without bothering with the Creag. I have to say that it was not so much the amount of cloud over Uilliem that influenced my decision, but the fact I was ludicrously carrying a Sainsbury's bag (the tough reusable type) with me in addition to my heavy rucksack. In my defence, I had thought that consumption of my food supplies would have resulted in being able to cram everything into the rucksack by now. I must pack better next time. I was away early enough at 10 am, and I made good time to the lodge beneath the Creag. Indeed, it takes its name from it - Creaguaineach Lodge - so it looked to be a particularly fitting idea to leave my baggage there whilst I conquered the mountain. Conquer seemed the word for it, because it was an imposing 'little' thing, never mind that it was not even a Corbett.

Departing Ossian Youth Hostel for the last time for the time being.

I rejected Leum Uilliem. Another time.

Although it was cloudier than yesterday, it was not bad enough to excuse another refusal on this. I had the bright idea to take the axe up, which so far on this trip had been utterly unneeded, but proved eminently helpful here as support and reassurance both up and down, despite no ice anywhere. Creag Ghuanach presents a steep face if you go up from the lodge (as advised in the SMC book), and I thought it quite intimidating. Once on it, I found it quite intimidating. However, I think I must have hit on the correct gullies more or less, and had no bad crag experiences (unlike one other reporter here, and I easily see how it could happen), and found myself on the summit in an hour. It was a pleasing, bouldery summit in the mist, and as previous days remarkably mild for mid January. I was happy with myself, the fact of finally justifying bringing the axe all the way up from England adding to this. Nevertheless, I had already sworn not to attempt to go down the same way, the danger of wet grass and an uncontrollable fall too great (in any conditions really). I descended down the more contour-friendly south side, although managed not to get that exactly right and came down slightly steeper stuff (needed more SW than S), but no difficulties and the plus was that I was not far from the lodge again. Job done, the hardest exertion out of the way, pat on the back and recoup my stuff from Left Luggage (the lodge) and onward to Kinlochmore - the easy bit, yes?

Creag Ghuanach looked impressive I felt.

Loch Treig in slightly more austere mood than yesterday.

I was not overly keen.

I did it right, but still didn't overly like it.

Wow I might make it, the higher slopes beckon, easing out.

Damn steep, unless you're a rock climber. Thankfully I did not have to.

Brilliantly vindicated in my decision to go up there with axe. But don't get too cocky.

Had I overstayed my welcome a little? I did feel I was getting a bit cheeky now, if not insolent, by using the lodge a second time (actually entering it a third) and two day's running. I was perhaps particularly blase about collecting its mountain, a mere Graham but with a personality and location that seems to demand another label (and not 'Fiona', please). Cloud came in more thickly and it began to drizzle as I left it behind, as if the whole area was having a growl at me. I had expected the path into the Gleann Iolairean to be obvious, easy to follow and possibly even well-maintained. It was grandly signposted for a start; but then the trouble started. Immediately it was mush as it followed the burn up, and then dissolved altogether into the moor that hosted it. There were wooden posts to guide the way across and a notice speaking of following these 'to the gate'. That would be the big wooden thing that was bolted, I presume. I reached it, and noted there was a red arrow on it pointing left along a deer fence that ascended the landscape. That did not look right to me, there was no hint of human prior-treading that even the best tracker in the world could discern, and the compass seemed only a vague help in this terrain. I followed it for a bit, seeming to be random moorland, before changing my mind in fatigue and frustration and deciding I needed to climb over said gate to strike out beyond. Efforts to match up channels in the heather with burns on the map proved futile.

To cut a strenuous, cussing and anxious story of untamed moor short, it was clear I had veered too far right (west) and not sufficiently south, and so missed the Gleann. As always, this fail could probably have been avoided by putting precise trust in the compass, although that would have needed the arrogance of ignoring hints of a path or wooden posts and what not. If I'm honest, I think the very ground, incessantly tawny, had spooked me and eroded my judgement. I would have yet been able (in theory) to trudge across to get to where I should have been, but did not have the spirit or confidence that that would rectify things, and fear of being caught out on the open moor at night, overtaken by tiredness, was beginning to rise. Thankful that this was a mild mid January, I decided to cut my losses and make down for the Staoineag Bothy, as I was obviously heading more on a line for that anyway judging by the sight of Creag Ghuanach yet again (please let me go!). I had basically completed a bloody 2-mile circle, wasting time and energy I could ill-afford. I would regroup at that bothy - a haven of safety - and even stay there the night if I had to, but did not bloody want to.

More cloud than before and now drizzly.

Where now? Where the f-

Staoineag Bothy reached - unintentionally, then intentionally.

It was a wilderness idyll at times; just beyond Staoineag Bothy.

What a cool Bothy, Staoineag was. It had an upper sleeping floor and its location was exquisite, perched up above the river, the Abhain Rath, in the shadow of the imposing Creag Ghuanach (yes the same mountain I was in the shadow of at the lodge 90 minutes ago). I could not stay, though, I really couldn't. I really wanted to reach my Inn at Kinlochmore tonight as opposed to sleeping at a bothy without sleeping bag or means to make a fire (apart from rubbing sticks) in winter. I quickly worked out I could - and must - reach Luibielt about 2 miles away, where I was 95% sure there would be a good track to lead all the way to Kinlochmore; the map said so, and I remembered seeing the other end of it on a previous visit to the Mamores. I would be benighted, so there had to be a good track and I had to make it in an hour (sunset). Acceptable little gamble. The prospect of being caught out on the moor was obscene if not life-threatening (a mild mid January, this). It was difficult enough to make progress through it as it was.

The ironic thing was that I had initially ruled out going this way, as the printed path along this glen runs along the other side of the river, and it would surely be impossible to cross at Luibielt, thus again stranding me obscenely in nowhere land. I must not cross the ford at the bothy, but had to keep to the same side of the river, which I did, and it had a path of sorts at times but also lots of rough and squelch. As always, off-path Scotland makes you earn salvation until the very end: I stepped in bog up to my thigh, my deepest yet, literally only 100 metres from the good track which thankfully did exist as promised. I wrung out my socks and changed into dry trousers. The walk to Kinlochmore was very long, made longer by the fact I didn't dare attempt any dark short cuts to the village off that gorgeous track, and I was very footsore by the time I got there, but my expedition was done and I'd have a day of holiday tomorrow around Glencoe with not the slightest onus to squeeze in another walk of any description.

Getting through to Luibielt - had to, had to.

Luibielt reached before nightfall, thank God.

A ruin on the night walk from Luibielt.

Another ruin on the night walk from Luibielt.

Coda:

I took away a lot of reflection on bothies and ghosts and such on this trip. I have always been sceptical, tending to get particularly annoyed with 'Help my House is Haunted' type programs, thinking them outright fraudulent and absolutely not alright to pass that on to people as entertainment. Ken Smith, however, 'The Hermit of Loch Treig', seems to me a reliable and authentic witness. Why would he lie? Something happened to him at Ben Alder Cottage (Bothy) that he could not explain and scared the living wits out of him (in his book in the chapter The Poltergeist of Ben Alder). Stuff has allegedly happened to other people there too. When I was there this summer, I was teased by the sight of smoke coming from its chimney when the other four guests there had told me they'd ruled out being able to get a fire started because of no firewood. The fireplace it was coming from was either in the left (as you enter) dorm where they were or the private quarters, but certainly not the communal kitchen area. I did not have the presence of mind to check with them, as too tired from my walk, and now this 'niggles' me, but far from 'haunts' me, and it probably needs to stay that way.

In my yesterday's walk, I spoke of the sense of isolation and unease I had around the general area, the mountains and buildings (few as they are) having a kind of symbiotic personality (or personalities). I had the quirky feeling I should not outstay my welcome or get over-confident about anything. Of course, a lot of this is the self-dialogue we give ourselves on long solo walks and the very real potential threat of the wilderness, but still... I find myself very tempted to return to Ben Alder Cottage to stay a few days and just see if there's anything. That is daft. It's worse than daft. It's the same as saying, 'alright malignant spirits, if you exist then show yourself'. I've done the peaks of that area now, and that's my purpose for being up there, and it was approved by the overseeing entities (if they exist, which they probably do not, probably!). I have a sneaking feeling my difficult moorland experience was a small 'chastisement', because I had gotten a bit too intrusive there at the lodge and in the mere suggestion that I might want to seek these entities out. The lodge simply felt peaceful to me, but I'd not be quite so at ease with returning to Ben Alder Cottage. If you go there to 'ghost hunt', so to speak, and of course find utterly nothing - then you've been bloody stupid. If something does happen, and creeps the heck out of you - then you've been bloody stupid. It's possibly a case of seek and you will find. It reminds me of the ending to Night of the Demon - "Perhaps it's best not to know."

I think my conclusion from all this is simply 'respect the wilderness, respect your proposed routes and your limitations, and respect the old buildings - any facilities really - encountered within it, for the generous assets that they are. I have a suspicion that what happened with Ken was that he outstayed his welcome; the thing is, he was proposing to live there indefinately at that time, so they - 'they', or 'it' - weren't having it. But they don't mind (usually) the temporary staying of walking guests who are there for a legimitimate reason or in emergency need. I believe I was ultimately 'treated well'. It was good that I lugged my excess and garbage in a Sainsbury's bag rather than dumping it anywhere, despite my fatigue, and it was good that I didn't get too ambitious with routes, but pitched it just about right. On the other hand, it's all simply in the mind of the wilderness wanderer, and comes down to being sufficiently lucky or skilled.

Haven. Kinlochmore the next morning, bus to Glencoe, nice cafe then going home.

Bought at Glencoe's 'Crafts and Things' cafe.

[Sunset tripper]

Nice one, that looked like a fine trip in a great area. I've been in to Corrour several times. A couple of day trips and a few overnighters but never stayed at the hostel. What a great spot though. I had a look inside the lodge...very creepy especially upstairs. Stayed the night at Staoineag a fine spot also.
https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=79739

All the best.

[The English Alpinist]

[quote="Sunset tripper"]Nice one, that looked like a fine trip in a great area. I've been in to Corrour several times. A couple of day trips and a few overnighters but never stayed at the hostel. What a great spot though. I had a look inside the lodge...very creepy especially upstairs. Stayed the night at Staoineag a fine spot also.
https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=79739/quote]

A nice bit of deja vu reading your report, and good to see the area in the snow conditions I was expecting but didn't get! I didn't realise there was yet another bothy beyong Staoineag. They're definitely worth using as 'budget' accommodation and communing with the mountain spirits, in a respectful way of course.