Maol Chean Dearg and the Inverness Conundrum

[old danensian]

"Which way are you heading home then?"

I was shedding boots and gaiters at Coulags Bridge after climbing Maol Chean Dearg. In one of those quirks that defines Scotland "as a mere village where everyone knows everyone else," the red Saab that had just pulled in came from Kilmarnock, a handful of miles from where I was about to head home.

"Inverness and the A9," I replied.

The grimaced response told me that he didn't think this was a good idea. A debate followed about the relative merits of the A82 and the A9 and the likelihood of missing the rush hour at both Kessock Bridge in Inverness and the Broxden roundabout in Perth. The only thing we agreed on was that it would be a clear run through Glasgow by the time I got down that far.

"It's still going to be Inverness," I said. "I'm a circular route kind of guy and I drove up through Fort William." And after a tiring couple of days I also find the A9 a more relaxing drive.

Pulling away I set the satnav.

217 miles and I'd be home by 19.22 - via Fort William.

The challenge was set as I drove in the opposite direction and headed north up the A890 towards Achnasheen. After less than ten miles it succumbed and went into "re-calculating" mode.

However, before the Top Gear driving challenge began, I'd been enjoying the delights of another Munro above Glen Carron. After lugging the tent up for a wild camp over the two previous days, I opted to crash in the back of the car this time after sampling the menu at the Strathcarron Hotel.

Duly fortified, the next morning I made my second attempt on this hill. Last October I'd been warned off because of stalking activity after meeting one of the estate workers leading his garron pony up the glen. Not wanting to be the carcass strapped to its back on the return, I opted for a trip up Moruisg that day. Now, having stretched my legs on the three Munros on other side of the glen the day before, I was raring to go. It's surprising what a couple of mugs of tea can convince you is possible first thing in the morning. Hill-fit? Bring it on.

A less than pleasant approach to Maol Chean Dearg as hydro works progress

Sadly, the start to this walk is going the way of many at the moment, with hydro scars blotting the landscape. Tonka trucks and big boys toys are scattered around like playthings strewn carelessly across the garden. The noise of generators, diesel engines, and the hollow rumble of rocks being scooped into tipper trucks doesn't drown the natural sounds, it scares them away.

Crowd control for unruly walkers

How much space do they need? Even the footpath, supposedly fenced off for walkers, bears the evidence of hefty tyre tracks and use by the construction plant. Piles of debris mimic drumlins left by the ice-age and remnants of pallets, bags and timber off-cuts litter either side of the site. Health and safety reasons must justify the urban crowd control barriers that prevent hordes of walkers from attacking their staff. What on earth do they think we're going to be getting up to?

Finally, you enter a pristine glen. It's surprising how soon you can leave the noise behind and be lured into a false sense of tranquility once across the footbridge. Fortunately, the wind carries the worst of the decibels away to be suffered by anything or anyone downwind.

A clear glen up the Fionn-abhainn beyond the hydro work

Once in the quieter surroundings, the metropolitan centre of the Coire Fionnaraich bothy comes into view, its stone walls and weathered roof melding into the background landscape. No smoke spiralled from either chimney suggesting no-one was at home. I unbolted the door for a peep inside and had a quick skim of the visitors' book which suggested that it had been a busy Easter.

Coire Fionnaraich bothy nestles into the landscape

Next it was time to discover Finn's legendary boulder, before heading uphill.

Finn gives the finger to despoliation lower down the glen

The path to bealach snaked up at easy angle, offering an easy approach to the Bealach a Choire Gharbh, the quartzite stone showing as if the path had been chalked into the slopes. Across the face of Coire Garbh chutes of scree and slopes of boulders hung above, all promising a more challenging walk later.

Beyond the split in the path Maol Chean Dearg looks down as the path snakes up

My eyes were drawn all too soon to a quartzite rill snaking down from crenellations above. I was all for cutting a corner and already knew that ascending this next bit was going to be a bit of a three-up-two-down kind of progress. So, even though I suspected I was heading upwards a little too early, I went for it.

An early chute of quartzite - just go for it

After a while I was glad of the security of rocks on the left as I got higher and the scrunch gravel became looser. The rocks at least gave the illusion of more solid progress, even if most holds had to be tested and shaken before being relied upon. Suffice to say, it was interesting.

The way I should have gone from the Bealach an Ruadh Stac

Finally, I came across the top end of the path I would have been better advised to follow. Still, the worst was over, and the best was definitely to come. An undulating stretch made for easy progress while the jumble of sandstone boulders loomed up ahead: intimidating, but not yet revealing where a chink in its armour might be.

Summit slopes of quartz and sandstone

Sometimes it's better not to thrash around looking for a path or well-worn track, they have a habit petering out or, worse still, going off where you hadn't expected them to. Just follow your nose, explore a bit, and it's not as if you're going to get lost by simply going uphill, uphill and uphill on a clear day. There's only one place you can arrive at.

A string of small cairns suggested that the top was getting closer as the gradient eased and the clambering over boulders became easier. I'd already had a glimpse of Beinn Eighe as I climbed out of the glen but now I was confronted with one of the most impressive views you can get on a Munro - but one that changes mood and atmosphere day-by-day.

Summit shelter on Maol Chean Dearg

From Beinn Alligin, across Liathach, and along Beinn Eighe: the mountain skyline that epitomises everything we aspire to experience.

The day before, from the vantage point of Sgurr Choinnich and Sgurra Chaorachain, they had stood proud in white-capped glorious splendour, announcing their presence to the world and declaring themselves open for business.

Today, they sat full-square across the northern side of Glen Torridon, arms crossed with a grey haired austerity that oozed an "I'm in charge" kind of message.

From the tiny village on the shores of the sea loch they reared up, reminding anyone that every single centimetre above sea level had to be climbed - and some - if you wanted to explore the twists and turns of their pinnacles.

Pinnacles on Liathach

Bein Alligin from Maol Chean Dearg

I was grateful for the construction of the summit cairn, complete with its sheltered bays that allowed views in different directions to be enjoyed from the protection of their arms. At this time of year I don't usually stop for the length of time I spent there - but three quarters of an hour later I thought it was time to make a move.

Reluctantly, I left to follow the tiny cairns back to the boulder strewn slopes and was soon crossing to the top of the more sensible route down, marvelling at the geology of An Ruadh Stac. As the light changed and sun popped in and out I wondered how many different shades of grey there could possibly be - ok, fifty, I know, but as a snowy squall approached, and bullets of hail began to rattle on my jacket, I doubt many of them would make an appearance.

The geology of An Ruadh Stac exposed for all to see

After passing the streak of quartzite I'd followed on the way up, I sauntered down the glen, past Finn's digital message to all who pass by and on past the bothy, savouring the last of the tranquil atmosphere.

All too soon I could hear the judder of machinery and I lost nature's noisy silence. There are times when you stand and listen, gradually becoming aware of the sounds that have accompanied you all day, and which we sometimes take for granted. You can listen and choose to hear it. But, back in the realm of civil engineering, its noises confront you, with no choice but to hear. Any attempt to listen to the sounds from earlier in the day were drowned out.

Rant over.

I was just left with a curiosity about the impact of all that civil engineering work that constructed the dams and reservoirs in earlier generations of hydro work between the 1930s and 1950s. How much damage did they do to the environment then? The projects to build all those dams must have been far bigger, not as environmentally friendly, and the engineering techniques were likely to have been a little less subtle.

I tried to ignore the chaos, but when it came to one final stretch, I was confronted with lengths of blue nylon cord drooping between one metal post and the next. It reminded me, most recently of evidence in the last Broadchurch series, but further back in time it reminded me of cross-country races at school - being funnelled toward the finishing line by the same lengths of blue cord.

The final lap - into the funnel to the finishing line

Having finally reached this particular finishing line, and enjoying the day despite the intrusions made by diggers and dumpers, I was faced with the satnav challenge and the decision about my return journey. Gosh, you think, ain't his life exciting.

So, who was right? Is there a definitive answer? Fort William or Inverness? A9 or A82?

Well, via Inverness rather than Fort William, I got home at 19.21: one minute quicker despite having driven twenty four miles further than the original satnav calculation of 217 miles - but at over 54mpg I wasn't complaining, I am a Yorkshireman after all.

Now all I've got to do is decide what to do with those sixty seconds I've gained.

[malky_c]

I'm not sure exactly what time you finished, but if you'd hung about a bit, you'd have seen some pillock trying to push his fully-laden road bike up to the bothy . I had rather hoped to make use of the hydro track for it's brief existence (apparently it will be removed and filled in once construction is complete), but it wasn't to be.

I know people say this isn't as good as the adjacent An Ruadh-stac (and they're right), but you can't really go wrong in this area for good scenery, even when it's a bit grey .

[BlackPanther]

Seems that the hydro work looks even worse than last October, when we climbed MCD. There was a board at the gate saying:
"This work is anticipated to take approximately 3 months to complete"
Apparently there is a bit of delay in the schedule

Joking aside, I was heartbroken when I saw the damage done to this lovely glen. We had been there before a couple of times, when it was still wild and "unbulldozed". Now it reminds me of a jet runway...

Glad you had decent weather and good views from the summit, it's a cracker of a mountain, though I agree with Malcolm, An Ruadh-stac is even better

[Mikemurphy58]

I'm aiming to do this hill in May this year. Really enjoyed your account. One of the best written pieces I've read on here.