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So another meet, another long drive after work on Friday. We arrived mebbie about 10, and were glad to see some familiar faces filling the bunkhouse – just brilliant. The next few hours seemed to pass in moments, and seemingly all of a sudden there was only a few of us left gibbering nonsense and drinking anything that came to hand..
The morning came too soon, and two pots of tea later, I was feeling vaguely human. Of course 90% of fellow WH’ers were already out on the hill. Dougie got up at some point and we decided on Beinn Damh – nice and close and not too long a day – perfect
We had eyed it up previously from other walks round the back and it had been on the bucket list a couple of years.
We drove round to the wrong car park before finding that we didn’t have the right map, so back to the hostel for the map, which surprise surprise, made it a lot easier to find the right spot to park
So we set off, along the road, over the bridge, finding the path through the woods just a little further on.
The woods are pleasant, but they soon thinned before the fork in the path. The right fork is far more direct, but we wanted a circuit so we took the left fork, for heading up the glen. First we had to cross swamp and river though. The swamp was easy enough, but the river had me rattled. I had forgotten my poles, and was wearing a pair of comfy yet ancient boots with hardly any rubber left – slippery!
Dougie hopped across in his usual mountain goat manner, I made it to a big boulder half way, slipped and fell into the river, going in up to my knees. A hard wallop on the way coupled with the temperature of the water, took my breath away and it seemed to take an age to react and try and haul myself back up to the big boulder.
That was my confidence gone, and the jump to the far bank seemed well beyond me. As you can see from this photo of Dougie doing the jump – it was not exactly a huge distance, but fear is anything but rational.
So I sat and recovered from my fall, cradling by bruised knee, before heading upstream where it was wider, and less scary. I still managed to fall over and soak my arms up to my elbows, but I did manage across finally – only half an hour to cross a river – what a pansy I am
So with that drama over and only a few miffed looks from Dougie we carried on up the path. A few boggy bits but on the whole nae bad. Plenty of slabby sections as is the way round those parts. On the skyline there was a big boulder with what looked to be a small cairn on top. As we got closer though the small cairn moved and took flight – I think it may have been a hen harrier but others will correct me if this is wrong I am sure – beautiful bird which circled quite a few times, obviously a bit peeved to be disturbed.
More gentle ascent took us up to the bealach, where I had hoped for a vague baggers path going in our direction – this route is in a book of Dougie’s – but there was nothing evident.
We bypassed the first lump on the ridge, but from above it looked like it would have been fun L The bypass was alright, some boulderfields before picking up a deer track round the base of cliffs and up to the coll beyond.
That is where the fun began, with plenty of rocky prominence's to clamber over, and only a few soggy bits of vegetation that came away beneath your boots in between.
About a third of the way up there is a long crag, which would entail quite a detour to avoid. There is a weakness in the rock round about the centre, but everything was so wet and slippery, the climb induced very wobbly legs
At the top of the crag, instead of topping out onto a nice ledge, there was another 10 metres of near vertical vegetation, which came away in your hands and beneath your boots – absolutely terrifying, but satisfying once up to safe ground. A variety of craggy bits and short walls gave further interest, but all of it was easily avoidable if desired.
An eagle soared above, coming in and out of view for almost the whole climb – always a spectacular sight and I am not sure I’ve seen one hang around for quite as long before.
Eventually we got to a flattening on the ridge – where the sandstone finishes and the schist begins. Showers were over Torridon, but it stayed nice and dry with us.
The schist boulder field ahead looked like it was going to be awful, but the rock was far more stable than it looked, and that section seemed to pass very quickly.
The angle had eased considerably now and there was a pleasant wee ridge that took us up to the final summit cap – another wee fun scramble up to the summit slab.
The view of the Coulin were amazing, minds turned to memories of fun in those mountains – some of the best you will find anywhere.
Chilly winds saw us leaving after the photos were taken, cairns leading us toward the path down. I’ve never been very good at following cairns, I just don’t see them
so we went slightly astray on a few occasions until we were over the coll and on our descent proper.
The path isn’t very good in places – a huge wide collection of paths, some quagmire, some eroded to hell..
it took us slightly longer than anticipated to get down this section, the sun going down en route. Further down, the path improved, and we got back to the fork in the path in no time after that – still plenty of light left. We ambled back through the woods, going precariously down to the waterfall viewing platform to finish our flask of tea and enjoy the quiet ambience before the chaos that was sure to be prevalent back at the bunkhouse.
Eventually it became almost too dark to see, so it was back up to the path, and torches out for the last mile back to the car. Must be record, doing a hill on a Saturday at a WH meet – and so enjoyable too (apart from my by then very stiff and sore bruised knee)
Back at the bunkhouse, there was a jovial atmosphere – still a few hours before the quiz, so showers and dinners and laughs – was such a good meet on so many levels. The quiz passed – on the winning team again somehow – boy do I know how to pick team mates! And 3AM was here before I knew it – cripes!
The morning was stormy - started off looking grim and windy, and just got worse. We hung around the kitchen until everyone had gone and we had said our goodbyes before finally setting off for home mid morning. I was glad my knee was so stiff and sore – an excuse not to go out and I felt sorry for those that had. The weather was absolutely minging from Torridon, all the way back to Edinburgh – the whole country stormbound.
Brilliant meet – Thanks to Gill, John, and everyone else for being so brilliant and making it such a fun weekend.
