Sgurr a Mhaim

Day 2 of my Winter routes was originally planned for the Ring of Steall but the weather was foul. I decided to take a look at Sgurr a Mhaim and possibly head for the Devil's ridge thereafter but as I changed into my gear at the Abhriachan car park (the only one again), it drizzled. I could barely make out some snow further up SaM but the route was easy to see and offered me confidence if the weather got worse further up. Lugging my heavy pack (I had also packed my big Maglite if my head torch failed), I began the walk up the zig-zags. The temperature was mild enough and before long, the sweat was pashing aff me. I gained height rapidly as thigh muscles complained but on I pushed. Views were at a premium and as I entered the cloud I bade goodbye to civilisation and was subjected to a cold blast of Winter air. By this point, I added my fleece and hat to the waterproof jacket as I encountered some lovely orange scree and a path winding it's way further up. This changed to red scree and then I began to trudge through some deep snow. Where was the summit? I had been padding for over 2.5 hours and felt that I was well up the hill. By this time, I was drookit and my feet were squelching as the snow got up inside my gaiters. I continued on, knackered again but eventually came across a small cairn and then eventually the summit sitting beside the great North face of the corrie, totally covered in snow. I took a rather pained photo of myself as evidence that I had had enough and the Devil's ridge could wait for finer weather. I belted down the hill, splurging my way down the now greasy and streamlike path - a wonder I didn't skite. Sgurr a Mhaim was a monster hill (1099m but only 50m of a start from sea level) and after doing the RofS, it would be a hard hill to descend. Once again, an exercise in water-proofing and endurance but a satisfying sojourn nonetheless. While such exercises no doubt inspire confidence for navigation and decision-making, they are lonely expeditions which require the ability to have conversations with oneself and be au fait with those kind of things. Or wis that just me?

Eerie Meall a Bhuiridh

I had taken some time off from le metro boulot dodo and headed North for a couple of day's Winter hill-walking. The rain was falling as I parked in the Glencoe ski car park and not a soul to be seen. Rather than head straight up alongside the unsightly ski tows towards Meall a Bhuiridh, I decided to try an alternative route, heading along the West Highland Way and then up the East shoulder of MAB. As I said before, il n'y a personne and all I needed to was find the Ba Cottage remains before heading into the mist. Well, I couldnae find them so I took a compass bearing and proceeded to head up through the murk. The amount of deer on the hills were incredible and they soon scattered as I trumped my way ever upwards. I began to make out a rocky North face and headed onwards - by the time I reached the 800m level, there was quite a bit of snow about but the weather was stable. The usual ptarmigan flew out of nowhere and scared me shitless but I began the careful approach up through the crags rather than walk up the scar of ski-tows. I had forgotten that this hill was over 1100m high and with a full Winter pack on plus a recent mouth infection, I was beginning to cramp up. Eventually, I made it up on to the level ridge and walked past a rather poignant plaque/cairn dedicated to Charles Kennedy. Not sure what happened to him but I continued on past the ski paraphernalia and touched the summit before a bit to eat back at Ski Hut. As I was eating, the wind moved all the equipment and snow fell from the lines, making odd and unanticipated noises. I felt quite freaked. There is something quite nice about hills in good weather on yer own but when it's cold, dark and bleak, it's very lonely. No-one to trump lunches with, no-one to laugh at. :-( I decided not to hing aboot and belted down past the now welcome ski paraphernalia until I hit the car park in double quick time. A quick drying out and off to Glen Nevis for my next sojourn. A tiring, cold day and more a test of goretex and sanity than anything else. Creise can wait another day.