by Norman_Grieve » Mon Jun 18, 2012 11:29 am
A train driver teld moi that ye oldies tickets club had restarted 'til end o' June, so a week or so later I found mesen walkin' 3 miles doon to t' station ticket office, nippin' back just a minute later tae get anither return tae Oban. Perhaps recalling my efforts tae retrieve ma lost return ticket to Edinburgh a couple o' months back, the ticket officer says 'Ye havenae lost it already hae ye?' I hastily replied that this wan was fae an auld fiend who'd rashly decided tae come along for the ride...
The 7.40am loco tae Glasgie was apparently already sittin' at the platform so we made oor way through the dreaded barriers & promptly marched off doon the wrang platform, before somehow a 6th sense warned me that this was 5 nae 6 and the train we were aboot tae get on was headed for Auld Reekie, current Legionnaires Capital o' t' UK. Just in t' nick o' time we found the southbound Glasgie engine hidden awa, naturally enuf' up on the north end o' platform 6N, clamberin' on, jettisoning rucksacks & sinking intae twa o' the few unreserved seats, shortly before the loco pulled awa.
The next 2 1/2hr sped effortlessly by as we reminisced aboot auld epics, classic climbs & the sadly departed companions of yore. Alightin' at Glasgie Queen St. I spied the wee Oban train already sitting at the next platform, handily scheduled for the off in just 20 mins time, on tae which I boarded as yon auld fiend negotiated the ticket barriers tae get some messages fae the station's wee provisioners, returning shortly afore the engine creaked awa up the start o' the fabled West Highland line.
The sun shone brightly on the fresh young light green leaves, as the loco slowly groaned through the leafy suburbs o' Europe's Murder Capital. As time slipped by, it eventually hauled us tae the bonnie banks o' the Clyde, closeby the impressive ramparts o' Dunbarton Rock, across the ground o' t' newly promoted fitbae club. Some time later I pointed oot the distant specks o'er the far shore, doon the water, whence I'd sped tae Dunoon on t' Argyll Flyer last bright Nov. 1st.
Nae lang after we chugged alang above Faslane, workplace o' that blessed fitter Jason, he o' Oban bothy fisher-rescue boat fame, last Aug. 2nd... Approaching the head o' Loch Long, mein fiend was delighted tae see the Cobbler wance agin', reminiscing on oor classic climbing exploits there twenty years ago wi ma wee bro', noo hillrunner extraordinaire & star o' this year's 1st trois TRs... Nae [very], lang after and we were truntling alang the arguably even bonnier banks o' Loch Lomond, as t' wee ditty would hae it. Ah pointed across the loch tae Inversnaid Hotel at the end o' t' windy road fae the Trossachs, ootside which I'd enjoyed a sun kissed pint with anither long lost compadre, after scaling nearby Corbett Beinn a Choin.
Doon t' bonnie loch Ben Lomond looked a splendid steep, rocky pyramid fae this angle and after chugging laboriously up Glen Falloch beyond the head o' the large body o' fresh water at Ardlui, we craned oor necks tae see up tae a wee patch o' snaw, nestling just below the summit of Ben More, towering darkly above Crianlarich. Here the line split and we took the left branch, next halting briefly at Tyndrum Lower, close to the auld mines, scene o' some fine mineral vein finds with the late elder bruvver o' mein companion, some 17 years earlier.
We got oot on t' platform at Dalmally some time later, as it was announced there would be a lengthy delay, whilst we apparently had tae wait for another oncoming engine tae pass. Although welcoming the chance tae stretch oor legs, by this time I was becoming rather concerned aboot the time we were making, as I kent we hadnae all the time in the world tae wait for the 2pm ferry at Oban, even if we'd been on schedule... No matter, I took the opportunity to take ma 1st snap o' the trip, distant Ben Lui being well seen back up t' line.
Once back aboard, underway, mein auld fiend was animatedly taking in the fine spectacle o' a cloud-free Cruachan range, soaring above the foot of Loch Awe, nae havin' bin doon this way since the sexy seventies. Once through the narrow defile o' the Pass o' Brander, which had so impressed the Tramp Royal, we finally reached the west coast wance again at Loch Etive, scene o' ma recent Mt. bike conquest o' Beinn nan Luss, wi wee bro'. By this time things were getting pretty desperate regarding the imminent departure o' the ferry, as the distance hills o' Mull hove intae view across the bright blue, sparkling Firth of Lorn.
We picked up our sacks and hovered by the doors 'til we came tae a grinding halt, thence jogged doon the platform & through the alleyway round to the left then right round the corner of the ferry terminal. Here mein fiend MK, headed left towards the big boat, atop which crowds of folk were waving doon at us, whilst I followed another frantic woman touro intae the terminal tae get yon tickets. 'You're too late', says the ticket officer, as I glanced doon at ma mob. tae see that it were 3 mins. tae 2pm, 'You've got tae be here 10 mins afore the boat sails'. She explained that the train staff hadnae informed them that they were going tae be late, so they hadnae waited! Dispiritedly retreating fae ma latest brush with petty officialdom, I mosied on oot intae the bright, warm June sunshine, where I met MK ambling back fae the boat, which had just cast off...
I dumped ma sack close tae the edge o' the quay, high above the rusting hulk of a trawler-sized vessel & went in search o' t' Subway, where I'd stuffed me face on ma previous trip tae Mull, back end Sept.- start Oct. Nae lang after I returned sipping a large coffee, fae which mein auld fiend took a sip, this seemed tae provoke a change o' mind regarding their state o' hunger and we wandered off alang t' quay towards the sound o' a wee carnival, where MK purchased a Mt. Rescue fund-raising burger.
A wee spot o' sunbathing followed on the sole seat outside the terminal, a welcome change after weeks o' cool, grey dreich days back in Airberdin. It wasnae lang afore the ferry hove intae view & after strolling along past the packed carpark, it dawned on us that we'd got tae gang back intae the terminal & up the stairs tae the airport style departure lounge, fae which led a lengthy enclosed walkway. This was guarded by a hi-vis bod, towards which stretched a lengthy queue of touros, those apparently at the front soon finding that they were outflanked, as a gate was opened at their rear. We had thus joined the queue somewhere in the middle, as it had built up behind us before we all about-faced & at 5 tae 4pm, just a couple of minutes longer before sailing, than we'd arrived 2hr earlier for the 2pm ferry, we were allowed to begin snaking oor way towards the elusive gangway.
Wance aboard & oot t' harbour, after a bracing few minutes on the S. facing lower deck, passing the Isle o' Kerrera, I climbed up onto the top deck. Here it turned out to be much more sheltered and crowds o' folk were enjoying the view back towards Oban, an ever expanding vista appearing behind, stretching fae a dark distant Ben to Cruachan much closer at hand. The lighthouse at the south end of the long, thin Isle of Lismore was passed close on the port side, thence Duart Castle on Mull hove intae view to starboard, beyond which a few showers could be seen falling in the mountains, some being mist capped.
Nae lang after we descended back intae the depths o' the vessel, where another queue had already formed, awaiting disembarkation, which duly took place at a fair clip, towards a group of waiting white Bowman's coaches parked above & left of the exit ramp. I coughed up the princely sum of £2.40 for the 12 mile or so ride, explaining that I wanted dropped off at the head of the pass over to Glen More, thence we made our way to the back of the crowded bus. This took about half an hour, as the road was much narrower, being mainly single-track, than that which I'd cycled to the foot of Glen Forsa, near Salen, the previous early autumn. We drove through a fairly heavy shower but by the time we jumped off, the warm June sunshine had reappeared on cue, MK reuniting me with my jacket, which I'd left hung o'er the back o' the seat.
Precious time had been slipping awa all too quickly, as is usual and it was noo after half five as we made our way, gently but rather laboriously doon fae the high point of the road through rather lush, tussocky grass. We then crossed an old track and dumped oor packs just above the Tobar Leac an t-Sagairt burn, which was reduced tae only a wee trickle over it's orange rusty iron-stained bed. Despite discontinuous animal tracks easing oor progress up the moderate grassy toe of Maol Tobar Leac an t-Sagairt, the 1st wee top on the north ridge of Ben Buie, MK was soon struggling in the warm June sunshine.
After a 2nd lengthy wait for mein auld fiend tae catch up, I was teld just tae carry on up, given the lateness of the hour, of which ah didnae tak too much convincing, soon relishing the freedom o' bein' let off the leash wance again. I'd soon skirted the left [E.], side o' the forepeak and began climbing rather steeper slopes above the col, towards the much rockier heights of Creag na h-lolaire. As the angle lay back I glimpsed the red jacket of MK just appearing on the left side of Maol Tobar Leac an t-Sagairt 400ft below. Fae here there was a lengthy section skirting the left [E.] side of pt. 552m, weaving between wee outcrops high above Coire nan Each dropping doon to Loch Airde Glais, beyond which lay Creach Beinn, my 2nd objective of the evening.
Wreaths of mist were forming, skirting round it's rocky flanks and across Glen More, to the NW, Ben More was also soon swallowed up by more mist. Another thin broken blanket appeared low down skirting around above the craggy wee hills flanking Loch Buie. Following a rocky traverse to the right to reach another col, the ridge narrowed and climbed more continuously, with a steep, rocky step high up, where I enjoyed some fine scrambling on the rough, warm, dry gabbro. A gentle, cool breeze had also sprung up, which was somewhat of a relief, after the warm sunshine back doon in the lush grass low down.
Across a final wide shelf, past a wee lochan on the left, a last steep rock band was negotiated, bringing the cairn atop Cnap nan Gobhar intae view, close at hand. This airy perch was poised on the lip of crags falling steeply awa towards Glenn a' Chaiginn Mhoir and fae here I could see that the slightly higher summit of Ben Buie lay a few hundred yards further south, beyond a wee intervening top. A few minutes later I'd reached the reigning peak, after 1hr 50 min o' ascent but had still many miles & climbing tae come afore reaching the haven o' distant Tomsleibhe bothy.
Bearing this in mind ah didnae linger, soon plunging doon intae the depths of the very steep scree gully just 100yds or so back the way I'd come, dropping down to the east [right], of the col before the wee intervening top afore Cnap nan Gobhar. There was little sign that anyone had been this way before and as the steep cliffs either side looked rather uncompromising, I could only hope that the mist into which I was dropping didnae conceal any overhanging impasse. Fortunately this proved not to be the case and I soon came out the other side of the mist band, which rose up as I plunged ever downwards.
I even managed a wee bit o' scree running but the odd large loose boulder discouraged this on the whole. Near the foot of the very steep, narrow scree gully, there appeared to be traces of deep bucket steps eroded in the bare gravel, below which steep heather led between narrow boulder runnels. Below here the angle soon lay back and I joined the true left bank o' a wee stream coming down fae Cnap nan Gobhar. I followed this for some distance, the mist soon clearing up above to allow a wee snap back the way I'd come fae the summit of Ben Buie. This was followed by another down Glenn a' Chaiginn Mhoir to sunny Loch Buie, with it's tidal isle of Eilean Mor, clearly visible.
Crossing the burn above where it I cut off down more steeply to the right to drop into the glen, I then moved left, traversing across to the lower rocky nose of the east ridge of Cnap nan Gobhar. The outcrops of this were threaded easily enough and a final wee descent, fae which I snapped a fine view back north over Loch Airdeglais to the cone of Beinn Talaidh. Thence I crossed over the path leading over the low col fae Glenn a' Chaiginn Mhoir and began the steep ascent of the west face of Creach Beinn, the descent fae Ben Buie having taken a little under the hour.
The odd sheep track helped ease the pain of the initial climb up steepening slopes up the true right bank of a wee stream emerging fae a rocky ravine, where I topped up my now empty Lidl's Apple Nectar carton. After grinding up a steep band I picked up another useful animal track leading back right towards the wee stream above it's gorge. Across the glen I snapped Ben Buie, which now sported twa mist bands, a lower finger creeping in fae Loch Buie and a thin veil cloaking the summit, though which the sun shone fae a blue sky overhead.
The wee sheep track led above the burn, cutting below a steep wee outcrop to a fork in the stream, where I crossed the left branch and negotiated the peat hagged, sheep dotted wee plateau between the twa tributaries. Bearing right I then started to climb up much more steeply, zig-zagging between wee outcrops and patches of scree. As I regained patchy mob. coverage I recieved a txt fae MK, asking if I'd got their camera, which they'd put in the front pocket of ma wee daysack but my attempted affirmative response failed to send. Fortunately further txts to both my Snr. & Asst. Safety officers both got through...
The angle lay back somewhat as I neared the top, where I was rather surprised to find a trig. point, given that there'd been none back on the higher Ben Buie. It had only taken 1 1/4hr fae the low col but dusk was still drawing on, as it was now after 9.30pm. Thus, after a ritual mounting of the OS column I set off back doon, initially just to the right of my ascent route but I soon veered back left, as I could see that crags dropped awa below intae Coire Gorm. A sea of mist had now reformed not far below, across which I snapped the twin summit of Ben Buie, just poking through.
However, it soon largely dispersed again, as I reached the foot of the steep rocky upper section, once more keeping right of my ROA, passing above the headwaters of the stream I'd followed on the way up. I then bore left below a wee lochan, following steepening slopes doon between the next twa wee streams to the north. There were a fair few Red Deer hereabouts, having passed only the odd wan or twa earlier in the evening. I also disturbed a very large, very pale yellowish frog, again having seen only the odd wee wan up to yet. Lower down I wove mein merry way doon twixt a broken rock band, below which the angle eased and I followed the drier, smoother grassy tongues, indicated by young, half height, soft fronds of bracken.
I hit the path over fae Loch Buie at a particularly muddy, marshy section, not far fae the head of Loch Airde Glais under an hour after leaving the summit, thinking that it wouldn't be much use if it didnae improve. However, it soon did get much better and I followed it along the east shore of the loch, at the head of which was a fine looking, sandy beach. Not far beyond it's foot, approaching the head of the smaller Loch an Ellen, I decided to cross over the trickle of the Gear Abhainn burn at a wide stretch of shingle, as looking down o'er this way fae the coach, there had appeared to be a string o' wee lochs bending awa doon Glen More to the right.
There remained a grassy path o' sorts above the west shore o' Loch an Ellen, which in gathering dusk, appeared to be along the lines o' a large sheep track. I cut up left to the left of even smaller Loch an Eilein, along the Tobar Leac an t-Sagairt, beside the left branch of which we'd earlier left our sacks but seeing the lights of a car up on the road straight ahead, decided to just make a beeline for it up fairly tussocky hillside. I reached the auld track, none too soon and turned left along it and a few minutes later was relieved to see MK sitting beside our sacks in the gloom, just round a r.h. bend. They said they'd been waiting 1 1/2hr, having been satisfied with just the reigning peak & had text moi over half an hour earlier that they'd were gonna call the rescue if ah didnae appear shortly, it now being 11.20pm...
We then set off doon the road back down Glen More in near darkness, hoping a car would stop tae give us a lift round to the foot o' Glen Forsa, thus avoiding the rough & problematic traverse o'er tae it's head, through the forest to the east o' Beinn Talaidh. Some time later, as we passed the lights o' Ishriff, over to the right & entered the forest, a 4X4 passed by, ignoring oor outstretched thumbs. Around midnight. approaching the start of the dead-end track leaving the road on the left another mile or so doon t' way, things were looking decidedly unpromising in the lift dept., when a car stopped just in the nick o' time. The middle-aged woman driving somewhat reluctantly admitted that she was heading to Salen, having initially said she was stopping at Craignure but this was only tae drop off her male escort.
After clearing the backseat of her luggage we jumped in, only tae be almost instantly berated by Mr Passenger, who lectured us on the folly of being oot in t' hills at the witching hour, insisting that this was almost certain tae result in a call-out for a broken leg. A variety of arguments were tried in mitigation, with limited success, Mrs Driver responding to the suggestion that the members of said RTs were also apt tae occasionally be seen oot in t' dark, with 'Well yes but at least they're out as a team'! Slightly more ice seemed tae be cut when I happened tae mention that ma wee bruvver is the medic for wan o' the helicopter borne hallowed outfits...
We were then saved fae the further wrath o' Mr Passenger as he & Mrs Driver got oot at his fine hoose, up a long drive in the environs o' Craignure. Having placated her escort somewhat with a good Saturday night kiss, Mrs Driver got back behind the wheel and things calmed doon a bit for the 10 miles remaining tae Glen Forsa. I remarked that I was feeling every wee hill, having cycled this way fae the ferry last time around, Mrs Driver being more concerned with whether MK had a guid headtorch for the night time march for the 4 mile march up the glen tae Tomsleibhe.
'Twas aboot quarter tae wan by the time we pulled intae the start o' the Glen Forsa track & bid farewell to oor fair driver. After less than a mile MK called a halt for a breather at Killbeg, a large, modern whitewashed cottage and produced a couple o' wee anti-midge headnets. Just beyond we passed through a gate and followed the west edge of Ceann an Tuir plantation to it's end. Thence doon a wee hill, passing through a flock of snoozing sheep below the east flank of sub2k Marilyn Beinn nan Lus, beside the Allt na Criche.
Not long thereafter we followed close to the west bank of the River Forsa and stopped for another wee breather close to Gaodhail & crossed the bridge over the river of the same name, which had been reduced to a trickle by the prolonged dry spell in the far west. By this time MK was flagging, complaining of problems with yon rucksack straps but declined mein offer o' assistance. I assured mein auld fiend that ther was under a mile tae gang but this claim was met with some skepticism, the phrase 'running on empty', being used hereabouts.
I was beginning tae get rather more than worn around the edges mesen, having developed sore feet, on account o' havin' failed tae change oot o' ma B2 stiff boots back intae ma trainers for the lang walk up t' track. Rather more serious, in view of the lang day in the hills planned fae later that mornin' was the acute soreness around ma nether regions, this due tae my poor choice o' heavy boxer shorts... Anyways we stumbled on past the track turning left o'er the bridge tae the wee cottage I'd investigated the previous autumn & nearby sheep pens & large cowshed. There was precious little water finding it's way through the series of large boulder dams stretching along the River Forsa, just to our left, in stark contrast to the raging torrent spilling over them on my previous visit.
Following the track up right between twa plantations I knew there really was only half a mile tae go, as I tried in vain to convince MK, as I paused at a gate, not far before we reached the sharp left turn over the ford. I mentioned that there'd been over a foot of swift moving water rushing over the concrete on my last trip, as we stepped with ease over the relative wee trickle. MK shone a torch on the wee inscription on the crashed WWII Dakota aircraft propellor monument at the fork just up the slope, then I pointed out the very precise signpost over on the right, stating Tomsleibhe 1/4 [0.25!], mile, with some satisfaction.
We then pressed on through the darkness, up the 130ft climb along the much rougher, narrower r.h. branch of the track, MK praying that the bothy wouldnae be locked, myself perhaps wisely desisting fae relating the tale of the recent 'locked & gutted', White Laggan bothy the previous month. I did indeed have a fair struggle getting the bolt open, just afore mein auld fiend arrived at the wee small hour of 2.30am. I crept through intae the l.h. main bunk room which I'd slept in on ma previous trip, only tae find it jam packed with bodies, at least one on the floor. Beating a hasty retreat, I then found with some relief that the small central room was empty & also sported a fine, new looking sleeping platform, onto which I plonked my rucksack & rapidly extracted my new Mt. Equipment Starlight II sleeping bag & unfurled it on ma TROM prizewinning karrimat.
MK noted in a rather disapproving tone that I was alright, thence disappearing into the remaining, larger r.h. room, which although holding a fine library, was somewhat lacking in the bunk dept. Perhaps as a consequence of this, some 5hr later MK rentered ma wee, comfy room, only tae announce their early departure back doon t' glen. This was apparently due to lack o' sleep, due tae aches & pains, in turn related to an abscence o' bunk, karrimat or sleeping bag, dehydration having also played a part in their decision making process... Following close on the heels o' mein auld fiend's exit stage right, the bodies fae the next room arose fae their slumbers & began tae loudly crash around the place, being of the excited, mixed youth DOE award type party.
A few of them gathered in the library room, recently vacated by MK, loudly making hilarious suggestions, as to the next very funny sentence, in their most amusing account, of their previous days fantastically remarkable adventures. Alas, after an hour or so of this they decided they'd better get going on their latest, no doubt equally amazing travels and shortly thereafter, exit stage left. After a wee doze I then managed tae crawl oot o' ma pit, fixed mesen & scoffed doon a couple o' dry chicken roll sarnies, pulled on ma Verto S4K B2 red boots, threw on ma wee bro's wee daypack, containing little more than ma depleted batter Lidls carton o' streamwater & set off intae the wide, grey yonder.
T'was just afore 10am, as I stiffly strolled awa up the grassier track, past an isolated tree, beside an auld ruin, in the general direction of Beinn Talaidh's steep cone rising up intae the mist. I took the lower, grassy right branch, soon crossing the wee trickle of the Allt nan Clar. The track took ma towards the edge of a plantation surrounding the Allt na Laith-dhoire, filling the valley betwixt Beinn Talaidh to the left & sub2k Marilyn Beinn na Duatharach to the right. Here I passed through a delapidated high gate in the deer fence and began to follow deer tracks running along a forest ride through the tall trees.
These ran out in fairly tussocky lush grass, close beside the burn short of the col, at a height o' 500ft, beyond which a wider clearing opened up, around the, flat boggy headwaters of the Allt a' Gheinne. Fae here the downslope gradually steepened, as I chose the r.h. of twa forest rides leading onwards through the forest but I was discouraged fae topping up ma nearly empty water carton, by the sight of the carcass of a Red Deer lying in the rust tinged, sluggish , very low level stream water. My 1st Sea Eagle sighting maintained interest however, it lazily flapping it's great wings, crossing my path, not far ahead.
One or two live cousins of the wet body I'd nae lang passed went charging off intae the woods and not long before I reached the far end of the long, thin plantation, I glanced up a forest ride running up sharp left, to spy the tantalising sight of the edge of the forest track I'd been hoping for, rather too late in the day. Not long after escaping the woods I crossed over the wee trickle of the Allt Lochan nam Ban Uaine, flowing a remarkably straight course doon fae the loch o' the same name, high up on the Marilyn Beinn na Duatharach, back up to my right. More animal tracks eased my way over the hillside beyond, where I was excited to see 3 chestnut coloured birds fly over to a wee stand of broadleaved trees, which I thought were probably Jays, reinforced by their cawing, crow-like calls.
Ahead , across the Allt a' Choire Bhain, lay the steep, craggy nose of Beinn Chaisgidle, which I knew formed the most direct route to Cruach Choireadail, wan o' ma twa Grahams which were the primary objective of the day. However, given the extreme soreness o' ma nether regions, I decided tae opt for the slightly longer route, detouring round it round to the right, despite losing still more height, descending tae the Glencannel River, above the head of Loch Ba, Mull's largest expanse of freshwater. The ground got less rough & boggy, as I picked up more sizeable sheeptracks leading downstream, heading towards large & small ancient enclosures over the opposite bank, including an old burial ground.
I bore right close to this, dropping down to the head of the wide river floodplain, passing in front of the substantial remains of an old ruined farmhouse. There was a large herd of russet coos either side of the
river, which I gave a wide berth, later noting the presence of a large bull. I was amazed tae find that the river was flowing entirely under the pebbles, where I crossed, there being a wide dry bridge between where it trickled into them & emerged again at a pool downstream. Across the far side I picked up a nice wee antler, thence turned left, heading towards the buildings of Gortenbuie. I aimed for the far side of a newish looking fence, in the unlikely event that the large bull should decide to take umbridge at the invasion of it's territory.
As I neared the large lodge I realised that it was completely derelict, having no roof, although the long, low building behind it was in good repair, that on the right side being unlocked, which I noted for future reference & that being on the left had a good stove & furnishings. I followed sheep tracks fae here, descending slowly left, to join a rough track, close to the Abhainn a' Ghoirtein Bhuidhe. By now I was desperate enough for water, that I filled up ma battered 1.5L empty apple juice carton fae the stream, despite the close proximity of another sizeable herd of coos just over the stream.
Although I'd earlier planned to climb the steep eastern flank of Bith-bheinn, thence along the ridge o'er Cruachan Beag, to join the main ridge at Cruachan Dearg, twin peak o' the Graham, Corra-bheinn, I now decided that in view of my sore state, I'd be better coming doon that way, much later in the day. Instead, after crossing the Allt na h-Eiligeir & following a steep cow track up the far bank, I then turned sharp left off the churned up dry earth, soon crossing the Allt Bhreapadail, trickling doon below the east side of Corra-bheinn's steep NE ridge. Fae here, rather more tussocky going led along past a fine stream cutting through a cross section of glacial till, over the wee An Leth-Allt, well below what would no doubt be a fine cascade in more normal [ie wet], conditions.
This brought me to the narrow foot of the Teanga Mam an Tiompain, a thin straight grassy tongue rising up at a nice, steady, fairly gentle angle between the An Leth-Allt to it's west & more deeply cut Allt na Co'-lice burn on it's east side. There was even a fairly indistinct grassy track in it's most gradual lower section, where I left the plaintive sound of the Curlews & nasal buzzing of the Peewits behind. As the angle steepened up a tad above half height, the grass got shorter to compensate, with more rock in evidence. The views opened up back down past the way I'd come to the head of Loch Ba, the odd wee patch of sunshine contrasting with the dark skies beyond.
Thus the climb was fairly effortless, despite my poor shape following the long evening/night before and the rather warm conditions, which were made more bearable higher up, in a freshening breeze. As I reached the main ridge above the wide Mam an Tiompain col with Sgulan Beag, the north ridge of Ben Buie, which I'd scaled first the previous evening came into view in the sunshine, just across Glen More. There were some large patches of very pale, fine, low angle scree to be crossed as I neared the summit of Cruachan Beag, the forepeak of my 1st objective, the Graham, Cruach Choireadail.
I snapped Beinn Talaidh, as it's summit finally cleared briefly, away beyond sunshine & shadows on Sgulan Beag, , then another fae a wee bit higher, past a wee lochan perched at the head o' the ridge I'd just ascended, dark clouds lowering o'er the head of a now rather distant Loch Ba. From the wee cairn on t' summit o' Cruachan Beag I could see that Cruach Choireadail lay awa to the SW, off the main ridge, which would doubtless hae led tae some confusion if the mist had been doon, particularly in view o' ma lack of either map or compass. My luck held fast however, for the moment, as I descended 100ft or so tae the col, thence a couple o' hunnerd up the other side, reaching the main summit c. 4hr after leaving the bothy at two-ish, a time of which Squiz would hae bin proud?
Although the top was in the sunshine, the view was rather limited, as all the main surrounding peaks were in t' mist, thus after the obligatory txts tae ma Snr. Safety Officer & her equally bonnie assistant, I thought I'd better get ma skates on, afore me luck ran oot. I followed the rim o' the broken crags dropping doon steeply below intae An Coireadail, back towards Cruachan Beag, to the left o' ma ROA, then cut doon left towards the Mam Coireadail, the col with neighbouring HUMP & nr. miss Marilyn, Beinn a' Mheadhain. The descent was short & sharp, involving some scree running, after traversing right across steep grass & scree, beyond a shallow stream gully.
The Tobar Coireadail burn & it's wee lochan source appeared to hae largely dried up, offering little prospect of an acceptable top up tae ma depleted battered Lidl's apple juice carton water supply. It was an easy enough pull up the moderate, stony slopes o'er the far side o' the col, trending in a leftwards arc, to reach the apex of the Maol Uachdarach, the parallel north ridge to that which I'd ascended earlier to the east of the An Leth-Allt burn. From here it was a gentle stroll between cairns to the summit, gained around 3ish, there even being a fairly indistinct path, perhaps evidence of a growing popularity in Graham bagging? - Surely not...! There was some mist floating aboot the summit but thankfully not enough to obscure the way onward, doon the longer, narrower NW ridge, descending to below 1300ft at the Mam Bhreapadail.
This was a fairly gentle, pleasant stroll, mainly doon shortish grass, with the longer, easy angled central section, twixt rather steeper, rockier lower nose & drop off the summit ridge. There was the sharp, distinctive, repetitive sound of the odd Golden Plover alarm call, as I no doubt strayed too close tae their nest. Across the narrow col lay the uncompromising sight of the very steep, craggy ESE face of Corra-bheinn, which I later read had recently been enough to put off no less than Kinley, fae attempting the combination o' the twa Grahams! It was o'er 1000ft o' fairly relentless ascent fae here but perhaps fortunately, much of this lay in the mist, the full extent o' what face ma thus being hidden fae view.
I started up traversing rightwards below a craggy nose above the left side of the col, soon reaching screes, where the odd wee sheep track provided some respite, allowing some zig-zagging back left for a short distance, then longer legs trending right. As this approach seemed to be taking me above even steeper, craggier ground on the east face, I eventually decided to follow the dried up rocky bed of a wee stream runnel, pretty much directly up the face, with minimal tooing & froing on grassier wee ridges to either side. There was the odd stop for a breather, where I downed the last of my precious supply of streamwater, before once more into the breach, I resumed the relentless steep grind, not even any views providing a distraction from moi efforts, noo being surrounded by thick mist.
Thankfully, all good things come tae an end and the angle lay back abruptly, as the NE end o' the summit ridge was finally gained, with some relief. Fae here all that remained lay an easy stroll to the SW, weaving around the odd rocky outcrop, before the trig point atop Corra-bheinn appeared oot o' t' gloom. After moi supreme exertions, it nearly proved too much for ma tae mount the OS column, fae which ah nearly overbalanced afore managing tae lock me poor, much abused knees & straighten up atop the auld concrete. It had taken nearly 2 1/2hr along the ridge fae Cruach Choireadail, it noo bein' approaching 4.30pm, with still a lang, rough way back tae Tomsleibhe. First there was the small matter of both finding & reaching the twin-peak of Cruachan Dearg, which given the same height of 704m, will doubtless some day be proved the higher of the twa, thus necessitating ancient Grahamists to abandon their zimmer frames & leave their wheelchairs behind tae scale it's rough slopes...
Making good use of the prevailing southerly wind direction [I hoped], I set off doon much easier angled slopes than that o' ma stiff ROA, in what I guessed tae be the direction o' the NNW ridge, leading onward toward Cruachan Dearg. Unfortunately there didnae seem tae be much sign o' any path & confidence that I was heading in the right direction remained pretty low, as the angle lessed still further and it started tae rain. Things were soon looking up a short while later, as I passed the odd rocky outcrop, the mist clearing briefly, allowing a glimpse doon intae what I thought looked like it could be the deep bowl of Coir' Odhar, headwatering place of the Allt na h-Eiligeir.
As it turned out I was indeed traversing the long double col of the Mam a' Choir Idhir but confidence levels rose another notch as the steepening slopes ahead led to a long steep rock band, which I tackled by a left trending ramp. This was shortly followed by a higher rock band, which I took fairly directly, despite the quality of the scrambling nae being up to the standard of that found the previous evening on the fine, rough Gabbro of Ben Buie. The rock here was much finer grained and rather shattered, with much angular scree lying around on the ledges. Fae the crest of the top band it was only a short distance to what I presumed tae be the summit cairn of Cruachan Dearg, of which I'd had a fine view of it's towering, triangular north face, fae Glen Clachaig on my approach to Beinn Fhada, the previous 1st October. It was now 1/4 past 5pm and I txt ma wee bro in Auld Reekie, who was hosting oor dear Mater, thus had been unable tae mak it.
I was still rather concerned aboot hitting the ridge leading o'er Cruachan Beag, back towards Gortenbuie in the thick mist, not recalling that it led straight to the summit, thus was soon relieved to find that by following the edge of the abyss to the right, I was soon clearly on a fairly narrow ridge. Progress doon the gentle angle was further eased by the appearance of a handy sheep track, for wance aktually leading in the right direction. Thus it wasnae lang afore I arrived at a wee col, the short climb up the other side taking moi tae a wee cairn, which I presumed was the top o' Cruachan Beag, at a height o' 600m precisely. Keeping the precipitous edge, noo on ma right close in sight, I then crossed another wee col, passing a further wee cairned top, before turning more to the left, doon moderate, wider, stonier slopes, to finally emerge fae the blanket of mist.
I thought the misty hills across the glen looked vaguely familiar but wasnae entirely sure I was in the right valley system until I'd made my merry way over the much broader, flatter continuation of the ridge, doon tae the right o' a scattering o' wee lochans. Confidence levels first rose as I spied a steep wooded nose, down in a deep cut glen to the left, which I thought could well be lower Glen Clachaig, which I'd cycled to fae Tomsleibhe tae scale Beinn Fhada, the previous 1st October. However, the clincher finally came as the head of Loch Ba hove intae view, surprisingly close at hand. I made an initial abortive stab at beginning a descent to the left of Gortenbuie but soon thought better of it, sensing a substantial band of crags doon below. Traversing back up left, I soon discovered a fine, wide grassy shelf, cutting down obliquely left through a higher band o' crags, sporting a well used sheep track.
As I skirted the left edge of steeper, rockier ground to the right, I spied the 1st folk I'd seen since leaving the bothy some 8hrs earlier, as doon below there were several family groups strung out along the grassy floodplain at the head of loch Ba, where they'd pitched a few bright orange large & small tents. They appeared to be watching something out on the loch, their excited shouts carrying up tae moi in the still air & I tried to make oot if perhaps others in their party were out on the water in a wee boat. Lower down I cut back right over rougher, partly dried up bog and shortly arrived at the track tae Gortenbuie. Nae far along the track tae the right I spied a wee dribble o' water running doon the underside of a boulder above a wee trickle o' a stream, intae which it the dribbled. Following a wee bit o' excavating I managed tae position ma trusty carton under the falling drops & sat doon for a few minutes rest whilst it collected enuf for a wee swallie or twa.
Hence I set off back toward Gortenbuie, soon leaving it, cutting off left across rough pasture, shortly arriving at the wide course of the Glencannel River, which here had remarkably ceased to flow above the shingle & cobbles for a distance in excess of 100yds. I then made my way over the flat floodplain, up the glen, passing several large dead tree trunks, washed up in more normal times. The going was nice & easy over the closely cropped parched fine grasslands, with the sounds of Green Plovers, Oystercatchers & Curlews, forever associated in my mind with faroff childhood days back in Littondale.
It wasnae lang afore I crossed over the Allt a' Choire Bhain, close to the ruined farmhouse, which I'd passed many hours earlier that morning. As I passed closeby the walls of the ancient burial ground it began to rain, more heavily than back up on the tops but once again the shower soon petered out. I made my way up intermittent animal tracks up the true left bank o' the stream, being somewhat surprised to see the odd boot print, wondering if they perhaps belonged tae a twitcher coming to watch the Jays & Sea Eagles which I'd seen on my way in just over the burn up ahead.
Nae far short o' t' confluence with the Allt a' Gheinne, there was a fine pool at the foot o' an equally fine cascade, above which I crossed the larger Allt a' Choire Bhain, stopping to fill up my wance again empty battered Lidl's carton. I then climbed up the fairly steep bank through the deep, lush grass & soon joined another animal track up the true left bank of the Allt a' Gheinne. I hadnae gone far when I decided to cut off right, aiming for the southern end of the plantation which I'd penetrated on leaving the bothy some 10hr earlier. My cunning plan was to round the r.h. corner of the forest, a surefire way to hit the elusive track which I'd felt sure I'd spied up through the trees that morning...
I passed well to the left of another ruined cottage, then fairly tussocky going took me to a rather indistinct, still fairly wet ATV track, leading along the fence at the S. end of the plantation. After a few minutes I turned sharp left at the r.h. corner, directly below the summit of Beinn Talaidh, high up above in the mist and began following the east side of the plantation, leading along the base of the steep west flank of the mountain. There were further promising looking grassy vehicle tracks, easing progress for sections of the traverse, being lost & found either side of several dried up stream courses running up intae the mist. I was glad when I'd crossed over the watershed intae Glen Forsa, below the steep nose of Beinn Talaidh's north ridge up to the right, 1st o' ma 7 ascents of the Mull Grahams, late the previous September.
The going improved as I passed through a fence leading right beyond the toe of the mountain, rounding a wee ridge in the sheep pasture and dropping doon to cross the wee trickle of the Allt nan Clar. Passing through old dry stane walls and o'er a last wee ridge I finally stumbled over Tomsleibhe, unexpectedly close at hand just below. I crossed it's threshold after 10 past 9pm, having been on the go for 19 of the 28hrs since I'd stepped off the ferry at 5pm the previous afternoon. The l.h. main bunk room was again occupied by a mixed group of giggling youths & I was just looking forward to listening to an all-night drunken party, when after an hour or so, their Great Leader popped his head intae their room demanding that they shut up & gang tae sleep. After several, increasingly forthright attempts, he got his wish and I got an unexpectedly decent night's kip.
In the morning I set off for the walk oot doon Glen Forsa, just ahead of their only slightly older looking young leader, at nearly 8am, having 1st remembered tae look for MK's sunhat, which I'd received many txts imploring ma tae dee, the previous day. It was a fine sunny June morning and it seemed a shame tae be leaving, as I ambled doon the track, this time having remembered tae change intae ma comfy, light trainers. An hour or so later the group's leader caught up with moi at the gate just short of Killbeg cottage, beyond which I snapped the Highland coos, strung around the track, followed by a couple more close to the road to Salen. I then held oot ma arm as a wee bus approached, which duly stopped, the driver telling ma he was nae in service but gave me a fairly hair-raising free ride back tae the ferry at Craignure.
