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Ever since I first started learning about Scotland's mountains, the name of An Teallach has had an almost mythical resonance. People I'd meet on scramble routes would ask me if I'd done it and when I said "No", they'd do that sucking the air through the teeth thing and say "Oh, you've got to, it's amazing". My Aunt and Uncle had been here many years ago and told me recently "Oh, you
must do An Teallach". Even my rather staid guidebook gushes "A Maginifcent and Exciting Ridge Traverse", "The Finest Mountain in The Highlands". I was, understandably therefore, quite keen on having a look.
I'd been waiting for a fine day and I got one this Wednesday. With barely containable excitement I rushed off the campsite to drive to Corrie Hallie. The guidebook says this is the point to start from if you want to have a go at the scrambling. Doing the route in the other direction (as the WH route goes) means you'd approach from the wrong side. When I arrived at Corrie Haille, the lay-by was full of soldiers. With guns. I think they were on our side
. I drove about 200 yards up the road and pulled into a smaller layby.
The route started off easily up a 4WD track. Well it would have been easy if there hadn't been two enormous army trucks blocking it. The driver of one of them looked about 12. I didn't think the British army did child soldiers. A bit further up the track I came across a large encampment where I learned this was a joint Anglo-French training exercise. That explained the child soldiers
. I asked if I'd need a flak jacket to cross the ridge but the sergeant gave me a look which implied "This gun's loaded with blanks but it'll hurt if I whack you with it". I moved on.
A little further on I was caught up by a young geology student out doing a fieldwork dissertation. His task was to work out how this landscape was formed. I told him I had a really good book in the van which explained exactly that, but he didn't seem impressed. We chatted for a bit and then he suddenly stopped, staring at a small rock, said "Fault!", and rushed off the path following a line in the ground. He was either training to be a tennis umpire or he was off to find out whose fault it was.
Shortly afterwards I came across the two cairns which mark where you turn off the path to walk towards Sail Liath.
- Cairns, with the ridge just peeking into view
There wasn't really a path but there were a lot of small craggy sandstone outcrops. I picked my way across each of them, doing as much scrambling as I could. My enthusiasm got the better of me and I fell off. Usually when I'm scrambling I put my heavy SLR camera in the rucksack, otherwise it swings around and bashes on things and disturbs my concentration, but these outcrops looked easy so I hadn't bothered. I was doing an easy traverse, swinging my left foot over to reach a ledge but I wasn't giving it my full attention. My left foot missed and I found myself completely off balance. Fortunately my other three limbs were well anchored and I managed to spin round and land with my bum where my foot should have been, grazing my right knee in the process. There's a good reason for the "3 points of contact" rule, and that was it. Somewhat shaken, and bleeding slightly, I put the camera in the bag and, using the age-old "get back on the bike" philosophy, carried on scrambling.
The outcrops done with, I was now within spitting distance of Sail Liath and I started up it's right flank.
- Sail Liath
This was a horrible, punishing ascent over small loose rocks on a very steep slope. (A better route I think would be to ascend Sail Liath up the spine of the ridge, where the gradient looks much kinder). I think my legs were still feeling the effects of last week's Beinn Eighe marathon because they were hurting. There were some nice views back though.
- Pretty Lochan
- Views south-east
I was hot, tired, breathless, and also cross with myself for the fall. I realised that I wasn't enjoying this very much.
On reaching the ridge though, there was a tremendous view south-west over Beinn Dearg Mor and Beinn a Chlaidneimh. Beinn Dearg Mor looks a magnificent hill from here.
- Towards Shenavall - Beinn Dearg Mor and Beinn a Chlaidneimh
This was also my first proper view of the pinnacle ridge. Probably it was mood but my first thought was "Is that it?"
- Yes, that's it
It looked like a broken pimple on an old man's bald head, not the magnificent ridge traverse I'd been expecting. My mood fell further.
A relatively easy pull up brought me to the summit of Sail Liath at 954 meters. More great views, such as this one over Beinn a Chladheimh
- Very picturesque in this direction
And I could just see two walkers ahead of me on the top of Stob Cadha Gobhlach (960 meters).
- Tiny figures
As I descended down rocky sandstone steps from Sail Liath there was a piercing shriek which chilled me to the bone. I looked around. Peering over the edge was a wild goat.
- Rubbish-munching scare beasts
If, like me, you spent your childhood immersed in cod-Arthurian myths and legends then you'd have got the same kind of chill. The goat is the symbol of the Devil, a harbinger of doom. Not that I believe in that stuff now, oh no, so I've really no idea why my mood fell still further.
From the top of Stob Cadha Gobhlach there was a good view of the route ahead, but I was sad to see the ridge now looked even less impressive.
- Great view, but what ridge?
But as I was soon to discover with a jolt, An Teallach is a wily old mountain which rewards patience and doesn't give you anything until you've earned it. She was about to teach me a few lessons.
The first lesson was about distance. It's actually a deceptively long way from your first view of the ridge to the base of Corrag Bhuidhe. As Father Ted might have put it "No Dougal, these rocks are small but the ones out there are
far away".
I descended from Stob Cadha Gobhlach to the bealach. On my way up the other side I took a detour out on a large sandstone outcrop that juts out into the corrie. From here I had a better view of the pinnacles.
- Hmmm..... OK
And a great view around the whole ring of the corrie with Loch Toll an Lochain far below
I followed the top of the outcrop back towards the lower crags of Corrag Bhuidhe. On the way I passed a giant fossilised foot wedged in a crack
- Footbridge?
Now I was starting to get a better idea of the scale of things. Corrag Bhuidhe was starting to look fearsomely huge.
- Doesn't look huge here, but it's a long way away
The first obstacle was that 5 meter lower crag - the outer defences if you will. There was a bypass path but that's not for me. I scrambled up it. It was tough. The slope was OK for keeping the exposure down but the holds were small and some of the moves were tricky. Suddenly I was starting to enjoy myself again. And then I found myself at the base of Corrag Bhuidhe. I stopped to get my usual "rucksack shot" to give some scale.
- HUGE rucksack
But that really doesn't do it justice. I had to use the widest angle of my wide angle lens just to get it all in, so the perspective is all mashed. It's higher than that makes it look. I was starting to feel nervous now that I was understanding exactly what I was taking on. I wandered towards it, trying to spy a route.
My guidebook says the following: "Most people avoid Corrag Bhuidhe by following the obvious traverse path". Check. Found that. Don't like traverse paths. Then it says "The direct ascent of the three main pinnacles requires moderate rock climbing skills". Gulp. But then it also says "beyond an intimidating 10m high slab with rounded hand and footholds, most of the route is just an airy scramble". So which is it? Rock climb or "just" an airy scramble. I dithered on the base of the rocks for some time, pulling myself up a little way to look ahead. I found a route that might have worked to get me halfway but I couldn't see any further up. I wasn't liking this and was beginning to think the traverse path might be the way after all. That was very disappointing.
Just then another guy came up over the first crag. I didn't get his name but I'll call him "Orange Cowboy", since he was wearing an orange t-shirt and a stetson-like sunhat. He eyed up the crag and disappeared round to the right. Hmmm. Then I heard a call, "I think there's a route round here, lots of crampon scratches". Aha! I scrambled down from my perch and went around to find him. He was about 4 meters up.
"How does it look?" I asked
"It's OK," he said, "the holds are very small but there are lots of them". He was sailing up it like a monkey. My saviour! I let him get a safe distance ahead and followed him up.
I tend to think of an easy scramble as one where your hands are needed but just to keep your balance. A tricky scramble involves a bit of contortioning, and the coordinated use of hands and feet. This involved acrobatics and the use of hands, feet, knees, and elbows.
Orange Cowboy had stopped partway up and guided me over the first part of the route, which involved a tricky traverse to gain a ledge. He wasn't out of breath. I was puffing and grunting.
"You're OK with exposure?" he asked. A bit late but the thought was there.
"Yeah," I replied, " so long as I don't look down.' I looked down, which was a mistake. I spat out a small nervous laugh and returned my attention to the rock. I concentrated on what I knew of rock climbing technique - pull on holds, use your body shape to get friction on your footholds, and at one point, the somewhat out-of-fashion technique of the hand-jam. This is a technique first invented on the gritstone crags of Derbyshire in the 1940's. It involves wedging your hand deep into a crack, then tensing your muscles as if you were making a fist. You can then pull yourself up, taking the strain on your knuckles. I'd only ever read about it in books, and it hurt like hell, but it was the best hold I had on the upper part of the climb. Don Whillans would have been proud of me.
At this point I noticed that both my knees were bleeding.
"I did the entire Cuillin ridge last week," said Orange Cowboy, "so I'm not afraid of anything any more."
I was about to say that I wished he'd told me that before I started when, after a limbo manoeuvre to get my SLR-heavy rucksack out from where it was wedged under an overhang, I was on top! Holy mother of all things rocky what a buzz! That had been the single hardest, most strenuous, and most exposed scramble I had ever done. Had it not been for my new friend I'd never even have attempted it.
"You're staying here for a wee breather?" he asked.
"I think so," I replied between wheezes.
"OK then, maybe I'll see you later." And he trotted away. I got a shot of him basically walking up the second pinnacle. If you're reading this Mr Orange, then thanks.
- Can you spot him?
The second and third pinnacles were much easier. And now I was really enjoying myself. An Teallach was giving me everything she had, rewarding my patience. And it was bloomin' fantastic.
- Back along Corrag Bhuidhe from the highest point
- Sgurr Fiona from Corrag Bhuidhe's highest point
Part 2, which concerns a certain Lord Berkeley, will follow after a short intermission