I’ve lapsed in hillwalking over the last couple of years. I used to spend a lot of time out and up, but the limited travel of 2020 saw me turn to more local wildlife photography (I live by Loch Leven) instead. The most recent big hill day saw me chasing Mountain Ringlets up and down the side of Beinn Ghlas and I never even reached the summit (the butterflies don’t fly that high)!

But the call of the hills is strong, and as the summer wildlife began to depart and the days became quieter, my thoughts again turned to the summits I had planned out before Covid.

One such peak was Bidean nam Bian. The area has always fascinated and frustrated me, though the frustrations cannot really be levelled at the hill. My initial attempt in 2014 was ended before it began with a significant snowfall in March. A return in 2016 was to see myself and a few friends summit ahead of my wedding but said friends did not fancy crossing Allt Coire Gabhail before we even reached the coire itself. 2018, and I finally entered Coire Gabhail with one friend, but upon seeing the route to the exit of the valley, my friend decided it was not for him.

So, in August 2022 I decided it was alone or it was nothing.

For seasoned walkers, this likely all sounds very dramatic indeed, and what is to come may sound more dramatic still! Feel free to laugh at me, if I entertain in that respect it’s all good with me.

I hadn’t quite latched onto the fact that the weekend was a bank holiday one, and even a pre-7am arrival left me with only one space option for parking. I was a little concerned that I’d be battling through crowds of people rather than midges at this point, but luckily (for me) that fear was unfounded. Still, being the anxiety-ridden human that I am, a pleasantly quiet walk into Coire Gabhail was constantly attacked by my own misgivings of whether I would actually reach the summit. I do this to myself a lot, I don’t know why. Perhaps it is simply the unknown. Perhaps it was the lack of company. I strode past the place we ended the walk in 2014, marched across the water, clambered the steps and descended into the quiet of Coire Gabhail. A red tent at the northern edge was the first sign of anyone else since starting the walk. Within minutes I found myself further along the route than I had ever been with anyone else, and those misgivings started to fade a little.
The morning was still young, and sunlight hadn’t yet entered this stunning pass between the hills. My camera was next to useless in this light so I had to content myself with views and the odd clip captured on my action cam. The skies above were blue, wisps of tiny clouds disappearing within. Red Deer munched grass at the sides of the trail and happily ignored my procession. As the route rose gently higher, snippets of sunlight warmed the way, breaking over the irregularities in Beinn Fhada. Dragonflies, not yet fully warmed up, rattled and buzzed, and settled back on the rocks from which I had disturbed them. Perhaps with another, or among a small group, the way towards the coire exit might not seem that long. But, with just myself and my mind, that rising wall of scree and mud seemed to loom larger every moment yet never get any closer. Once again, I began to play out the conclusions that might occur…

I’d simply not go up.

I’d find myself in a pickle.

I’d be sliding on my arse all the way back down to flatter ground.

Or wedged into a crack from which I’d struggle to exit.

I grabbed my current “What Three Words”, and carried on!



The scree was eventually reached. I was pleased to see a vague outline of steps among it and enjoyed the very light scrambling all the way up to the point where the trail became more of a pipe. A chute. A narrow, damp, slippery climb up through red muck, amply supplied with handholds that came away with the lightest of touches. It got gloomy within this chute, short though it was in actuality. For the first time in my hillwalking life, I had the gall to play some music from my phone to keep my mind on the task. Not just any old rubbish though, it was at least some fine Scottish music. The sun, now directly over the bealach above, peered in through the top of the cylinder. As I slopped on up, getting tighter all the time, the way felt like something of a birth canal! Go into the light, don’t go into the light. Whatever anyone tells you do in a “light ahead” situation, all I knew is that once I reached the light the chute portion of this climb would be over.

I was out.

A cool breeze chilled the sweat on my brow. The sunglasses came out to combat the sun. I regretted leaving my hat in the car. I had a little sit down, the first of the day, and gazed out over Glen Etive in reverence.

Up until this point I had told myself that I would be returning from Bidean nam Bian the way I came, but the last five minutes had seriously changed my mind on that. I looked up at the Stob Coire Sgreamhach to my left. I acknowledged that there was a munro to be had within about 130m of ascent. I looked to my right and studied the pass between the currently hidden Bidean nam Bian summit and that of Stob Coire nan Lochan. I took note of how small a pair of walkers appeared on that horizon. I looked back to Sgreamhach and apologised both to it and to my future self and carried on towards Bidean nam Bian.



I do agree that you should always know your limits when out on the hills. I also think I should have sat in place for a further ten minutes in consideration. No I have missed a munro. As it happened, the rises and short falls of the remaining route to Bidean’s summit were remarkably easy in comparison to what I had conjured up in my mind. I was really enjoying myself now. Vast views all around. Hills known and as yet unknown. Summits climbed and summits wished for. Lochs and lochans calm in the windless morning. In what felt like no time at all I was at the top, sat on a rock, finally using my camera for some photos of the views and the odd candid of a passing walker (still very few of anyone else about).



A little cloud came over whilst at the summit, making for some atmospheric scenes and adding some shadow to otherwise bright views. For a first time visit to the top of this mountain, I don’t think I could have asked for better conditions.
I didn’t take much convincing to head north to Stob Coire nan Lochan. The way down was steep, and the rocks slid about a little, but looking back from the slopes up to the next peak it seemed that a descent was favourable to an ascent. Or perhaps it just looked that way – I didn’t come across anyone else working the route clockwise on the day.



The last metres to the top were an enjoyable enough dance across rocks. Compared to Bidean nam Bian, this summit had a lot of visitors. Common too were lines such as “Oh what? This isn’t the top?”

From this point I could see my car just about the whole way down. That took the edge of the open feeling a little and reminded me of the descent from Stob Binnein.

Of the two obvious routes down from Stob Coire nan Lochan, I took the more easterly one. I’m convinced I chose the more difficult of the two now, but I guess I’ll find out whether that was true on the next ascent. More difficult or not, I enjoy the routes that provide choice and make you think a bit more than a clear-cut path does. The views back down into Coire Gabhail were a nice alternate scene to the ones I’m more used to seeing. More dragonflies appears as I reduced my height. Scotch Argus butterflies whizzed past me between the plentiful Scabious, reminding me of just what it was that had kept me from the hills for so long. Soon enough, the path became boggier as it crossed through the flow points of water from the hills.

Then the steps began.

I don’t mind a step going up, but on the way down it seemed they would never end! The waterfalls that accompany the trail provided a welcome step-respite, but I was still glad to cross the bridge at the bottom and leave the irregular stones behind me.

A few moments later and I was back at the car, hemmed in on both sides by large campers. Not unpredictable given the area and provided me with thirty minutes to have a sit down, eat a sandwich, and reflect on the journey taken. As usual at the end of the walk, I felt a bit silly for worrying about the walk at any point. However, I expect I’ll go through the same again on the next hill, and hopefully that hill is soon.

I made a little video of the route - also too dramatic - but hopefully does the circuit justice:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWlzNVzBGOY