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“Delicate” would be an adjective best used to describe the atmosphere left behind at the bunkhouse when Graeme and I set out on Sunday morning. After an early morning shower of rain, wisps of mist hung low across the glen but the odd hint of ridges above suggested that it might not be set in for the day. However, there was no stampede to join us.
Graeme’s text was enquiring: when will you be home?
Mine was more direct: the chicken will be ready by six.
So, a quick Corbett before the drive home and all should be satisfied. With one car left at Altnafeadh, we drove on to the Kings House to do a traverse of Beinn a Chrulaiste.
- Beinn a Chrulaiste from Kings House
Suited and booted against rain that was already in the air, and an ominously boggy looking stretch ahead, we were off, soon losing any vestige of track that may have existed. After a few hundred metres beyond the old road we simply aimed for a low point on the skyline then weaved round the occasional outcrop before getting above the snowline and into the mists above.
The width of ground falling away on either side gradually narrowed as height and time wore on, so route finding at this stage was straightforward. The trig point duly appeared out of the mist.
- Panoramic views at summit of Beinn a Chrulaiste
Time for photos and fuel, then we were off into the mists again.
Now I was under a false recollection that this was an upturned keel shaped hill. As a result I continued to be reassured by steep ground falling away to the right. By also failing to set the right scale on the GPS I was not disabused of this impression.
When the wind on the side of my face didn’t feel quite right I thought I’d better check the map as well. After all, I was out with someone who teaches other people this sort of stuff so I ought to get it right.
Whoops, there’s another ridge running north.
Marrying some GPS co-ordinates with the map it became obvious that we were on our way to the shores of the Blackwater Reservoir rather than the car.
Reverting back to old technology, paper and compass brought us back to the west ridge and gradually out of the cloud, finally heading in the right direction. This was suddenly and impressively confirmed when a window in the cloud opened up. An alpine-type view of the Buachaille was revealed, its upper cliffs blanketed in snow, the view a companion for the remainder of our way down to the car.
- The Buachaille emerges
- Ston Coire nan Lochan from west ridge of Beinn a Chrulaiste
- Back at the Kings House - not much better but a grand outing
Back at the Kings House, satisfied after a good morning out, we were witness to the taming of the herd as the stag and his girlfriends were being fed. There was a man who knew what both the deer and the tourists want.
And the roast chicken was tasty too.