Munro 29 - update and report

As I total up the ascent (12,114m) and mileage (101) of what I have just walked in a week, I am flabbergasted. The hills, which I walked are as follows: Aonach Air Chrith, Beinn a'Chlachair, Beinn a'Chlaidheimh, Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich, Bidein a'Ghlas Thuill (An Teallach), Carn Ghluasaid, Creag a'Mhaim, Creag nan Damh, Creag Pitridh, Druim Shionnach, Geal Charn, Maol chinn-dearg, Meall a'Chrasgaidh, Monadh Mor, Mullach Clach a'Bhlair, Mullach nan Coirean, Sail Chaorainn, Sgor Gaoith, Sgurr an Doire Leathain, Sgurr an Lochain, Sgurr Ban, Sgurr Fiona (An Teallach), Sgurr Mor, Sgurr nan Clach Geala, Sgurr nan Conbhairean, Sgurr nan Each, Stob Ban (Mamores), Stob Coire Raineach (Buachaille Etive Beag) and Stob Dubh (Buachaille Etive Beag). I had set out to try and walk 50 Munros in a week for charity but in a non-altruistic sense, I had set myself a physical and mental challenge like nothing I had ever attempted before. Despite my best efforts, I managed 29 Munros in a week and therefore fell well short of my challenge. However, owing to quite dreadful weather and a severe under-estimation of some of the days I had planned, I can have no regrets and am proud to have notched up that tally with little injury. I write this on my first non hill-walking day and re-live the best and worst moments. I won't categorise every summit moment or depict each cairn on each Munro but attempt to summarise the week that was and all the experiences I was to encounter, both intrinsic and external. It started on Saturday 7th May and if I didn't know what challenge was before me, the hug and look on my wife's face perturbed me. She looked both sad and scared. Had I taken on something which was just bordering on lunacy and verging on dangerous? It was too late, I had many people commit their monies to me and I'd just have to try my best. The drive up the A9 to Inverness would ultimately bring me to Corrie Hallie and what better way to start a trip than ascend The Forge, An Teallach. Despite the weather forecast for the week, it was a beautiful day and my full pack for the 2-day trek around the Fisherfield 6 and An Teallach didn't feel too bad. The walk up and over An Teallach is perhaps one of the best mainland treks that Scotland has to offer. I had a brilliant afternoon scrambling, peering over towers into the abyss of the Eastern corries and feeling the adrenalin rush - two in the bag already. I still had a long descent down to the Loch near Shenavall and at about 1715, I reached that Loch, re-charging my water supplies. The first doubts began to surface with the knowledge that by 1830, I had just managed to make my way into Glenn na Muilce and clearly, to tackle the Fisherfield Six from here was going to be very tough. At this point, I was already re-evaluating a strategy and thought I would make for Loch a Bhrisidh for an overnight camp. By 1930, I was still well below this and had no signal - I hadn't phoned or messaged my wife since 1600 on An Teallach - I knew she would be worried. Indeed, as my energy and spirits began to flag, I knew that Em would already be thinking bad thoughts and it wasn't until 2050 that I phoned her from the bealach between Sgurr Ban and Beinn a Chladeimh. To say she was not happy was an under-statement. I think she could hear the fatigue and weariness in my voice and asked if I was okay - I said that I was only going to manage the latter two hills tomorrow before walking out and therefore I was already down on my tally. I was both angry and frustrated that on day one, I was already well below my target and was letting the charity and people down. I was quite tearful at this stage and said to her I had totally under-estimated my task in hand. She said to do as many as I can and just see where you are at the end of the week. I slunk back to my tent and listened to the predicted rain pound my tent, self-doubt and negativity poking my every thought. What had I let myself in for? I awoke feeling better and keen to grab Sgurr Ban and Beinn a Chladeimh and having done that, I walked out and back to the car. A glorious fish supper in Ullapool followed by a night at the Aultguish and a proper bed meant that on day 3, I was ready to tackle the Fannaichs. Could I pick off a few hills today? The answer is that I did indeed nail 5 of the 7 Munros and felt a little better about myself. Tomorrow would be the South Glen Shiel Ridge and a clean haul there would see me up to 16 Munros in 4 days - not bad. The theory is always wonderful and as I drove down to Glen Shiel, the rain hammered on the roof as hard as the cold-bitten reality of a day in waterproofs with little views. I decided to abort my day 5 of the N Glen Shiel ridge and plan the Carn Ghlusaid three. However, this meant a walk back along the A87 if I managed the SGS ridge. As I began the walk along the estate road from Cluanie, I could feel the rain start to seep into my waterproofs - they weren't very waterproof. I don't know how I managed it but once up on that ridge, I kept walking and walking until eventually, I had a moment's respite on the last Munro of the ridge. There lay before me, my descent and a long road back to the Cluanie. I slipped on the descent and hurt my hand - it was so cold however (sodden gloves) that I didn't really notice it until I got to the Cluanie and then it began to throb. A visit to A&E in Fort Bill the following day (and two of the Mamores) confirmed that I had either staved the pinky or cracked the 1st digit. It was sore but I would live. The 3 hills round Carn Ghlusaid seemed very simple apart from the meeting with a very odd man, who just laughed at everything I said when we bumped into each other - "Are you doing the 3 today? - heheheheheheeeee" - he was like Shaggy but with a long cape and a long pole, there was something more sinister to his appearance and demeanour. The Shaggy Reaper - I sped off and didn't look back. My 6th day with Graeme has been described elsewhere and even though the weather was mince (and my Munro count) was just entering the twenties, he was a god-send. A return to Glasgow that night to see my wife and have a good feed restored my mental and physical energies and the penultimate day on the Beinn a Chlachair three was fine except for the snow and hail - where was the Scottish summer? Oh yes, we had had it 1-4 weeks previously. My final day on the Cairngorm plateau saw my eventual arrival on the Monadh Mor battling against snow, wind and hail, having done 3 Munros but with no possible physical prospect of going any further. I was knackered and I will admit that there were tears in my eyes on that last Munro - mental and physical fatigue, the reasons I was doing the walk, my perceived and actual numerical failure and even the tears for my grandparents passing away in the last year all seemed to surface. I stopped weeping and then I felt a dick. I returned to Carn Ban Mor and began the final descent just as the sun popped out. It had been a week I would never forget. As a fitting end to the week, I met the WalkHighlands duo, Paul and Helen Webster who kindly donated to me and bought me a pint.

29 Munros in a week

What a week. Diabolical weather put paid to my 50 in a week effort. I'll update more fully but I attach a few pics of my trip into the hills. Heaven and Hell.

Bin Laden and the Grey Corries Ripper

As part of an overnight trek into the Grey Corries, Darren and I had ticked off the two Innse Corbetts prior to a recce round the Lairig Leacach bothy and a fine evening stroll up the coire between Stob Ban and Stob Coire Claurigh. At the bealach, we found a perfect pitching spot, camped up (I'm free) and had oor dinner before an evening stroll/scramble up Stob Ban. What a brilliant sunset we got and we took a gamut of photos when suddenly, Darren took on the appearance of something not of this terrain. The developing darkness and sunset with the camera aimed at his silhouette projected an awful image and made my chole loosen. He was the Grey Corries Ripper! I left him to it and scarpered down the tricky scree slopes to open the hip flask and proffer the Ardbeg. It was a pretty cold night and I slept little. At 0510, Darren awoke me with a shout that the sunrise looked 'awesome'. Indeed it was. We revelled in that, breakfasted, then de-camped. We were on top of Stob Coire Claurigh by 0710 and Darren had nabbed the 1st Munro top, Ceannain, by 0740. I then received news that Bin Laden had been killed and that they had thrown him in the sea - have they not seen Transformers 2 when Megatron comes back?? Our romp across the Grey Corries was memorable with crystal clear visibility, a somewhat biting wind but beautiful conditions. Our walk across to Sgurr Choinnich Mor was also a delight although the eventual descent back to the car via the disused tramway did result in an unexpected 'a cheval' manouevre, which was precarious. 2 Corbetts, 4 Munros and I'm ready for the Munro 50 challenge.