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Mending and repainting a garden bench while the sun shone had earned sufficient brownie points for an excursion that was sorely needed. Memories of my previous dispiriting escapade (an unrewarding grind up Glen Orchy’s Beinn Mhic Mhonaidh) had to be expunged.
This didn’t have to be anything spectacular. It didn’t need to be acclaimed as a stunning achievement or to be an epic that would stick long in the mind. I simply wanted to arrive home satisfied and content. I wanted to be comfortable walking within myself and get a sense of increasing hill-fitness that seemed to be sadly lacking.
Creach Bheinn benefitted from some encouragingly attractive write-ups and lurked in Appin, an area I hadn’t visited for a decade or more. Two or three years ago, while on Beinn Trilleachan, I’d looked in from the east, and later that year looked in from the west across Loch Linnhe while on the other Creach Bheinn in Morvern. It was time for a return. A further appeal lay in the translation of its name – Hill of Spoil. Before escaping the 9-to-5 down in England, I’d worked in Solihull, although that hill had a reputedly more scatological derivation for the content of its spoil.
- Leaving Druimavuic and Loch Creran behind ...
- ... and slowly plodding up the gravel ...
- ... to the bealach ahead
After leaving the single-track road, and passing above the buildings of Druimavuic, it wasn’t long before I saw the forlorn cairn marking the start of Beinn Sgulaird’s unrelenting western ridge. Re-reading my report from 2014 revealed a painful day that must have been erased from memory.
Instead, the gravel track twisted and undulated its way up towards the bealach, at times steep and frustratingly, occasionally descending. By and large however, it proved a relatively comfortable way of gaining height and leaving Loch Creran behind, before a half-camouflaged container marked the climb proper.
- Another batch of undulations ahead - approaching Creag na Cathaig ...
- ... before addressing the bulk of Meall Garbh to weave a way through
The ridge of Creag na Cathaig had been on the horizon since rising into Coire Buidhe, now it loomed above. Following a burst of energy and an episode of grass-scrambling, the views to the east burst into view. To the left, Beinn Sgulaird peeped from behind the northern version of Meall Garbh.
On the way back? It seemed to be suggesting.
No, not today.
The elongated hump of Cathaig was crossed and the bulwark of the southern version of Meall Garbh could be confronted. Take your choice, it seemed to be saying. A route tracing any number of grassy rakes could be traced between craglets and outcrops. While keeping my mind occupied, any sense of weariness was kept at bay until the cairn came into view. Just six metres higher, yet a kilometre away, Creach Bheinn hardly loomed ahead.
- Creach Bheinn in the distance from Meall Garbh
This was becoming a day of undulations, and one that wouldn’t be fun in poor visibility. Fortunately, the cylindrical triangulation column could be seen on the skyline so there was no need to worry about a succession of false summits, just keeping on going up and down. The final tally of total ascent for an 810m hill is testament to them not being insignificant.
Anyway, I was glad to find that it’s a grand, airy top with views aplenty, whether mountains or coast and isles like Lisomore. I successfully worked out Goat Fell to the south, and subsequently learned that one blimp was Ben More over on Mull. Then the crinkles and corrugations across the northern horizon on a good day can apparently reveal Ladhar Bheinn amongst many, many more, although a distant haze hid most of those. And, of course, Ben Starav dominates to the east.
- Looking back to the northeast across Meall Garbh to Beinn Sgulaird from Creach Bheinn ...
- ... and across to Ben Starav ...
- ... and a farewell glance south to the Cruachan group and beyond before heading down and home
After lunch, some pondering and meandering, and a flask of tea, almost an hour had gone. Happy to reject the notion of a circular route, I simply headed back from whence I’d come. The clamber back up to Creag na Cathaig was as tiring as I suspected it would be and as I approached each undulation on the track back through Coire Buidhe, my heart sank. Nevertheless, in the late afternoon sun I could just take my time. I knew I was enjoying this.
- A fond look back up to Creag na Cathaig on the way home
And I didn’t cramp-up on the drive south. Nor did I have to painfully unfold myself from the car on arriving home. I was eager to explore the names of unrecognised peaks from the panorama I’d enjoyed, rather than consign the day to the dustbin of bad experiences. My other half didn’t have to endure the sombre mood brought home the previous week.
Exorcism complete.
Redemption.
Now, there’s a fence to mend, some pots to fill and some decking that will need at least a couple more coats of paint if it’s to survive another year.
Then, where next?
