I'd like to report a theft. Two, in fact. In the first case, unfortunately I have to admit that I myself am in fact the thief - of intellectual property. A few years ago, a friend told me she had an aim to climb 40 munros by the time she turned 40. At the time I had climbed a handful of munros but wasn't too sure if 'bagging' them was for me. I didn't want to reduce the experience to a tickbox exercise and anyway 282 is a lot to fit in around family life with small kids so if I wasn't intending on doing them all them why bother starting to chip away at them at all? 40 by 40, then, sounded like a nice, neat personal aim. So I stole her idea. I'd like to say I was inspired by it, but let's call it what it was - pure, unadulterated plagiarism.

I was very fortunate over the next couple of years to get good opportunities and good weather to fit a healthy number of munros in, so healthy in fact that I reached 40 munros before my 35th birthday. I had enjoyed it massively so in order to stretch myself a bit I upped the target number to 100. A few years later I find myself 84 munros climbed with 2 years left before 40. What this process has taught me about 'bagging' though is that even though there is an undeniable hit of dopamine and satisfaction from ticking off a munro, or a corbett, or a fiona, or an island or anything, the definition of 'bagged' is entirely up to you. In the case of munros, if 'bagging' to you means reaching a cairn by foot from the nearest town, train station or car park, then fine; if 'bagging' to you means arriving at that cairn by ny transportational means available - bike, boat, chairlift, funicular railway - also fine; if 'bagging' to you means learning to pronounce the name of the hill correctly, also fine. Point being, that while the hills are a public space open to everyone, they can also be very private places where each of us is free to enjoy, appreciate and take inspriation from whatever we see fit. Over my comparably short time spent in the hills I've begun to see each of them as a form of spiritual guide, not ones with a distinct and planned endgoal in mind for you but ones who can help you identify things that may have been bugging you silently or changes you want to make, to yourself and to the world.

This may seem a little off-course for a walk report but, as I'm sure many of us can appreciate, those kinds of routes often turn out to be the best. Which brings us, meanderingly, to theft number 2. This time I was the victim and the object stolen was my heart.

I parked up bright and early at the large and very convenient layby on the A86 next to the wee bridge across the River Spean. I had read that the track to Lochan na h-Earba was bikeable so had brought my trusty hybrid bike along. Leaving the car at just before 6am I found the track, true to its word, very bikeable indeed although stony and with one short section that I found just slightly too steep for that time of the morning. I did take one wrong turn early on and ended up going directly past Luiblea but thankfully managed to correct it reasonably quickly.





After around 6km I arrived at the majestic Lochan na h'Earba. I should have known at this point that there was a risk of my heart being pickpocketed but after trying to soak in as much of the beauty as I could, I unwittingly carried on.





I followed the track round and left to join the path going S then SE towards the Allt Coire Pitridh. I left my bike at around the 375m mark and continued on foot. Even with a lot of time spent revelling in the lochan's wonder this was only about an hour after I set off from the car. Before I left the path at about 650m I counted 10 frogs on the way either close to the path or right on the path almost under my feet. I'm not proud to admit the first couple gave me a huge fright when they leapt just in front of me but by number 10 I had become accustomed to them and simply greeted this wee guy with the, by then, obligatory greeting 'hello frog'. Just before I left the path I spotted a herd of deer precisely in the direction I wanted to go. Not sure about anyone else but I always have to reassure myself when headed directly towards an animal whose antlers look like they could positively mangle you. The deer and I settled our differences and I climbed up the NE shoulder of Beinn a' Chlachair, the route to which was pathless but manageable and a lot less steep than it looked on the map.



I managed a peak and a snap of the dramatic Coire Mor a' Chlachair just before the cloud descended and the light but wind-whipped rain began. Considering the forecast had been for low cloud and drizzle all day I counted myself lucky that I had had views and sunshine of any kind by this point.



Skirting the corrie edge at a safe distance I arrived at the summit just after 9am to find a crow presumably laughing at me for using my feet to arrive at our current location. At the top I had a quick chat with my friend Dom who somewhat kickstarted my interest in munros with a jaunt up Lochnagar but who sadly died sea-kayaking only a few years later. For some reason the tops of hills are where I feel his presence the most, although obviously owing to the Scottish weather our chats often consist of me saying a quick hello, mentioning how wet and wild it is and a similarly speedy farewell.

On my descent from the summit I lost my bearings in the cloud a wee bit and almost ended up heading towards the SW shoulder. Thankfully though my compass soon pointed me back on track and the clouds suddenly lifted. Unfortunately this was also the scene of the crime of theft number 2. As the cloud lifted so the views came alive - first S down into the An Lairig; to Loch Coire Cheap and the peaks of Aonach Beag, Geal Charn and Sgor Iutharn; further to the Ben Alder range, and then NE to the very identifiable peaks of Creag Pitridh and Geal Charn. It was these views that took my breath away and stole my heart. For a long time one of my favourite places in the world has been on the slopes of Quinag looking back to Spidean Coinich and Lochan Bealach Cornaidh below. I thought it would be a long time indeed until another place so fantastic could come close to it, but the summit plateau of Beinn a' Chlachair , surrounded by vistas so incredible that I feared I might somehow wear out the panoramic setting on my phone, very quickly joined it.



From there, I felt like I was walking on air. The stroll to the NE end of the summit plateau bathing in the occasional ray of sunshine was glorious, the half grassy half rocky descent to Bealach Leamhain was good fun and included a quick lunch stop out of the wind accompanied by yet more wonderful views, this time E to Loch a' Bhealaich Leamhain and beyond.



The 300m or so ascent from the bealach to the summit of Geal Charn was pleasant although my feet were starting to feel a wee bit heavy, no longer air-supported, and the clouds and rain were back. Reaching the summit just after 1130, the cairn looked like it had at some point been a neat and pointy pile of flat rocks but had partially collapsed either in the weather or perhaps under the weight of 'the rock that broke the munro's cairn'. On my descent I was lucky enough to see 3 of my favourite native Scottish animals, the ptarmigan. They looked unimpressed however when I treated them to a personalised, ptarmigan-themed rendition of classic pop hit 'Karma Chameleon'.

It took just under an hour to make the descent to the next and bealach and the ascent to the summit of Creag Pitridh, yet again to be met with more breathtaking views down into Lochan na h'Earba and over to Loch Laggan.



I then followed the faint path back down to the original Allt Coire Pitridh path, stopping periodically to admire the bog cotton dancing, in the wind this time, unfortunately not to a personalised classic hit, although I promised I'd bring a version of (Bog) Cotton Eyed Joe with me next time. As a slight aside (barely noticeable I'm sure after the first 2 paragraphs above) whenever I see bog cotton it reminds me of my brother in law, who, when I proudly identified some at Loch Brandy having just learned its name, replied immediately 'You're bog cotton'. Unsuspiciously soon afterwards, I took him on a gruelling 11.5hr bike and hike up Glen Lui to Ben Macdui and Derry Cairngorm. Needless to say he hasn't asked to go on another hike together since and, crucially, hasn't called me, nor anyone else I would presume, bog cotton.





Back at 375m at about 145pm, I found my bike where I had left it. The tone of this report may well have been altogether different had it been the subject of theft number 3. At this point, as if a test to whether this route should take place among my all time favourites, I discovered I had a flat tyre. After I had first tried cycling on it, then scanned another couple of nearby bikes for a pump to borrow and, in the final straw of desperation, finally tried inflating the tyre with my mouth to (obviously) no avail, I spotted another couple of cyclists near the lochan and walked down to ask for some assistance and moral support. The two cyclists turned out to be attempting the Badger Divide route from Inverness to Glasgow, apparently aiming to be the first to complete the route on a tandem. And there was me thinking seranading ptarmigan would be the most surreal part of my day. They also [crucially] did have a pump and helped me locate and dislodge the thorn apparently causing my previous 2 punctures from my tyre, and fit a new inner tube which I had luckily and somewhat on a whim brought with me. A big thank you and a bumpy, rainy but relieved mostly downhill cycle later I arrived at the car at about 230pm.

So there it is, my very first WH walk report, something I've always planned to do but never quite got round to. Glad I saved it for such a magnificent route. As for the 100 munro aim, I'm optimistic I'll manage it but realistic enough to know that family, health and weather are both more important and have a habit of being wildly unpredictable. Will I be disappointed if I don't manage 100 before I turn 40? Perhaps a litte. Will the experiences I've had in the hills thus far live with me for the rest of my life and shape how I see and treat the world and the people in it, including myself? Absolutely.