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It's taken me a surprisingly long time to get round to Beinn a'Ghlo, considering it was these hills, seen from Ben Vrackie six years ago, that first made me think that there might be something in this Munro business after all.
The length of the day put me off, I think - it was always something I was going to do when I felt braver. And I almost wasn't going to do it now - I'd marked off the Saturday two weeks before as the last free one when the light would last long enough, and it had turned out to be a roasting hot day when I was still recovering from the return from the west. But now I had a good but cooler forecast, and I'd recalculated and realised I didn't mind walking down the road in the dark if necessary, and so it went back to being the perfect plan - 3 munros to take me up to 10 for the year.
Not as early a start as some - train from Haymarket just before 7, and a change at Stirling, to reach Blair Atholl just before 9. I didn't really have time for hanging about, but made a quick visit to the shop, where I couldn't make my mind up and decided that if I'd had my breakfast before 7, and wouldn't have my dinner until late, I was perfectly justified in having two lunches, and then couldn't resist slipping into the little visitor centre.
The way up the road felt far longer than I expected - I kept thinking that I should have reached the junction, long before I did, and than there was still a fair way to go, along past the string of farms on the opposite slope. Once finally up on the last stretch, the view was already stunning - Beinn a' Ghlo on one side and the Glen Tilt hills on the other.
- Beinn a' Ghlo
The car park was something more than full to overflowing, dozens of cars parked along the verge leading along to it - I knew it was a popular hill, but wasn't expecting anything like this. There were a handful of people getting ready as I went through the gate, but no one in sight on the track, apart from a couple of runners who passed me.
The track to where the path splits off also seemed longer than I had expected - I kept thinking I must have missed the path turning off, and looking around me to see if I'd passed things that I shouldn't. But eventually I came to a place with was obviously the starting point, and remembered that I was supposed to turn off at a hut, which I'd now found.
- The track in
There was obviously work going on somewhere, because the path towards the foot of the hill was lined with bags of rocks, but the path itself was muddy and punctuated with pools.
- The Carn Liath path
The path got drier as it started to climb, up past what seemed to be the remains of a wall, and since it was now after 11 I found a nice stone to sit down and eat my first lunch, in the shape of a sausage roll - breakfast already seemed a long long time ago.
Once the path began to climb properly it was better than I had expected from the descriptions, solid steps which made for quick progress, although the ground is still scarred on either side of the steps.
- Stone steps
Not far below the first cairn the steps ran out, and it would definitely have been a more difficult climb if all the path had been like it that.
The views had been opening out behind me all the way up, and now I stopped to look back properly. I could remember being horribly confused on Carn a' Chlamain, not having realised that the railway swung round at right angles at Killiecrankie, so I had a starting point this time - if the valley in the foreground contained Blair Atholl, the valley in the background could be Loch Tummel running more or less parallel, meaning the mountain at the front of the pile could easily be Schiehallion, with Ben Lawers looking distinctive at the back.
- The view south
As I came in sight of the trig point there were literally dozens of people around it, but they seemed to be gathered for a purpose, and as I came closer it turned out to be a kind of funeral service, which I skirted. That explained the overflowing carpark, and from there the hills were quiet - a handful of people about, but not the crowds that had been implied.
- Carn Liath summit
The cairn at the true summit was quieter, but I didn't linger there, either, heading down the winding ridge towards the second hill - a long gentle walk, and then quite a steep descent to the col.
- Towards Braigh Coire Chruinn-bhalgain
The far side went for definite climbing straight away - some good views into the valleys either side, but hard work on a much stonier path than the first hill.
The top section is much gentler, skirting the great corrie - I don't know exactly what 'cruinn-balgain' means, but the bit about the slope of the corrie is a perfectly accurate description of the hill as seen from here.
- The slope of the corrie
From up here, the great S-shaped ridge comes into perspective, part of Carn Liath rather than just the road away from it.
- S-shaped ridge
The summit of the hill is slightly back from the edge, and the views are mostly down the Glen Tilt side - there was a good cairn to sit against for lunch. My second lunch was an egg mayonnaise roll, which tasted most peculiar until I realised it was actually egg and salad cream - once I knew what it was supposed to taste like, it was pretty good!
I had time to rest, because I knew now that there was no way I was going to have dinner and make the 20:18 train, which took the pressure off - if I was heading for the 21:58 train I didn't want to be down too early, and could take my time going round.
- Braigh Coire Chruinn-bhalgain summit
It was amazing how close the hills in the wilderness seemed to have come - the main Cairngorm group were still a fringe along the sky, but An Sgarsoch and Carn an Fhidhleir looked like they'd come close enough to touch.
- Cairngorm view
One frustrating thing about these hills was that they were getting higher as I went along - the col on the way to Carn nan Gabhar is a good bit higher than the last one, but there's just as far to climb on the other side. Still, it wasn't nearly as far down distance-wise - a drop down a broad slope until a path appeared again.
- Across the join
The climb up the other side wasn't bad - a slanting path to make the climb easier, but I'd done quite a bit of climbing by then. There were a few people about still, mostly coming down, but two coming up behind me.
The top was a long series of stages - first following the path up to a large cairn which seemed just to mark the start of the ridge.
- On Carn nan Gabhar
From here the trig point came into sight in the middle of the ridge, and the path ran out and became just a sea of stones - more challenging heading on over them.
- First cairn
The trig point might have been the highest point or might not - one side looked like a natural mound, but the other seemed to be built up with a wall of stones - and I thought I better head on to the great cairn which had now come into view at the end of the ridge.
- Carn nan Gabhar trig point
Whether or not it's the highest point - it probably is, but no one seems absolutely sure - it was worth coming along this far just for the views. It's a surprisingly long way north west of the last summit, and even more perched on the edge of the Cairngorm wilderrness.
- Carn nan Gabhar summit
This was further in than I'd been in Glen Tilt, and the edge of the glen had become a very dramatic drop, with An Sgarsoch rising beyond.
- Over Glen Tilt
I wasn't finding it easy to figure out which hill was which, although they were more individual as they came closer, but it didn't really matter - it's a stunning sight, with the head of Glen Tilt leading in.
- Cairngorm hills
I seem to have spent the last year or so skirting round the edges of the Cairngorms without ever reaching them - looking over from Meall Chuaich, from the Cairnwell hills, from here - so that might be something I need to fix next year.
Coming back was easier, because I could skirt round the worst of the stones on the grass which fringed the top - and remember by the trig point to look over towards Carn an Righ and Glas Tulaichean, also surprisingly close, and the Cairnwell hills beyond - I did know that this all joined up, really, but it's not the same as seeing it.
- Carn an Righ and Glas Tulaichean
I had one last hill to reach, the Munro top of Airgiod Bheinn, just a walk away along the top of the ridge, although I could have done without even that gentle last climb.
- Airgiod Bheinn
The top turned out to be a tiny and fairly accessible pinnacle - from beneath it looked like it would be one just to touch, but from the other side I managed to stand on it briefly.
- Airgiod Bheinn summit
I didn't really know where to go from here, except to keep heading along the ridge and hope i would find a way down - I thought I'd seen the path earlier on, a steep bare zigzag which terrified me, but as long as it was a path I could presumably follow it.
There was no real path up here, though - I found myself first down a bit on the right hand side of the ridge, thinking it was the start of a way down, and then back up on the very crest of the ridge, and then further down than I realised on the left hand side, trying to escape from the stones on the crest.
With no idea where I was going or what I would have to cross, and an awkward stony slope ahead and above, and a long tongue of green below, I lost my head a bit and went for the shortest way out - straight down the strip of grass and heather and blaeberry.
- The wrong way down
And this first stretch really wasn't too bad - hard on my knees, and there was no way back, but I was at least losing height quickly, and it wasn't bad underfoot. Reaching the bottom and having to cross a band of stones was more nervewracking, but I went slanting down towards the next green patch, and although some of the stones shifted against each other it was all basically stable.
Further down it was deeper in heather and really more difficult to cross although less steep, and then I was in an endless rough slope of long grass and heather, still surprisingly steep and a surprisingly long way above the bottom of the valley - a long miserable crossing, slanting down towards the Allt na Beinne Bige, which never seemed to get much closer, and always on sloping ground.
I'd forgotten all about the deer until I startled one below me, but there wasn't anything I could do by that point - if there were more around to object, they would just have to take Sunday to calm down.
The further down I came the more I was crossing tiny invisible burns and avoiding - or not avoiding - patches of wet ground, and the more the sun was in my eyes - it was a relief when it finally went behind the slopes of Carn Liath, and also meant that I was getting closer to the end.
There were more obstacles still in my way than I realised, however - I'd been heading for a green streak on the far side of the burn, knowing that it was probably the course of a tributary, but would still be clearer than the ground around it. The burn was far more substantial than I expected, however, and I had to make my way quite a way upstream before managing to cross and skirt a heathery mound to come up by another wet green streak onto the path.
- Over Allt na Beinne Bige
But my travails weren't over yet - the path was possibly the muddiest I'd ever seen, so that in one place the best option seemed to be a bypass of a bypass which was still keen to swallow me up.
Fortunately I wasn't far from the point where it suddenly became a good made path, and from there everything was far better, although it was still a long way out, joining the track which led through the valley, and passing a junction which seemed to lead to a lonely farm, then the junction where I'd turned off in the morning.
It was light enough still, but a glorious evening light, with Ben Vrackie looking beautiful on the other side of the valley.
- Ben Vrackie
The only other excitement of the way out was meeting a very large cow on the track at about the same time as I met some people with a free-ranging dog - fortunately the cow seemed to be unfazed. By Loch Moraig the light really was failing, although beautifully, and as I headed down the road the blue and gold became a yellow and orange sunset over Beinn a' Chuallaich and Schiehallion.
The rest of the way down felt a bit like looking glass land - going as fast as I could, and letting the downhill help me, still wasn't getting me on any faster than ordinary walking would. But it might have been partly a measurement issue, because I finally reached the Atholl Arms about 10 to 9, with plenty of time to eat and catch the 21:58 train.
I was exhausted all the next day and sore down the fronts of my legs for a week, but it was worth it - a stunning day.