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This was the second of three Corbetts climbed during a typically sunny May, a job in near-by Nethybridge allowing me an afternoon to climb this easy whaleback hill. Barely warranting a second glance from the main road, overshadowed by the high Cairngorms, this Geal Charn - like the rest - is hardly a subject for poetry. However it proved to be a fine viewpoint and its spongy, heather slopes gave for an enjoyable gallop.
Not for the first time I branched off along the road to Dorback Lodge. I'd once going as far as donning boots and setting off for the hill, only to turn back after half a mile devoid of inspiration. This time I had energy and purpose, despite a curtain of rain drawing a veil over the day's brightness. With a few bites of Soreen and the final swigs of my drink bottle, I set off from the lay-by at 3.30pm, travelling light without a rucksack. The track passed sandy dunes of glacial moraine to reach the flood plain of the Dorback Burn.
This flat expanse of hummocky grassland, extending out from the gravel river beds, was awash with birdlife. The trill whistling of the curlew, the bizarre squeaks of lapwings, the distinctive call of oyster catchers. It was vibrancy that contrasted with the boarded up Lodge, and the deserted dwelling, marked Upper Dell on the map, from where the ascent track began.
The showers had blown through and the sun shone with more renewed vigour as I marched along the track, wending past a lochan full of gulls. Two streams were forded, one an oasis of newly-grown pines, the other a chance to take on water through cupped hands. I struck uphill, off-road, sticking to the grass avoiding the longer heather, before reaching the easy going of the broad ridge. Only the wind threatened to slow my pace, forcing my West Indies hat into the safety of a pocket.
I reached the summit just before 5pm and took time to take in the expansive view, albeit enjoyed flat on my stomach within the minuscule pocket of shelter the tiny cairn afforded. Caithness’ Morven, to Wyvis, Dearg, the Fannaichs, to the Affric mountains round to Creag Meagaidh – quite a vista for such a modest hill. Closer to home the eastern Cairngorms were impressive, if almost bare of snow.
After 15 minutes I resumed my tussle with the wind, galloping down the spongy grass ridge with unbridled momentum, leaps and skips that rolled back the years. After a quarter of an hour I was back at the stream ford to begin the march back, returning to the van - and the homeward drive - for 6pm.
