Beinn Sgulaird - illegitimacy proven

The Bastard. According to local farmers but why? At only 937m, this is one of the smallest Munros. However, there are as many up and downs on this hill as there are to Tiger Woods non-golfing history. I started at 0930 and noted Ian Watson's car - he too was up there somewhere. It was a cold, clear day and the track from Loch Creran was steep. I spotted the cairn and started heading up the SW shoulder to point 488. The view back down Loch Creran was pretty and I figured I'd have this one in the bag in quick-time. Alas, there was a drop of about 50m from point 488, so I had this to re-ascend before entering the snow-line. it was quite a plod up to the 863m mark and from here, I could see I had quite a bit of distance to go but this was no ordinary ridge. Soft snow interspersed with boulders made for a tricky walk and what with more descent and re-ascent, it was beginning to feel like a bloody hard walk. A couple of walkers had come straight up the coire and once i finally reached the top, I really didn't hang about. 3 hours to this point. It was indeed a tough, little bastard. Rather than go back down the way I came, I continued N and then W down the steep slopes. I followed a chap in the distance down to the fence but traversed back to my destination rather than follow his descent. It wasn't until I got an old steading structure that I realised it was Ian and we chatted on the way back to the car. I arrived back in 5 hours, which I thought was decent going - only a 10 minute break for banana bread and tea. A cracking wee hill, which has to commend it even if the farmers don't agree.

Beinn Fionnlaidh (Glen Etive)

I have been looking to do this hill for years but I am loathe to do the hills so close to me as it leaves the other hills to do, a real distance. Despite this, the forecast was good and I would introduce Craig to remote Munros. We arrived at Invercharnan at 0940 and headed up the forest track, passing a makeshift Christmas tree. The temperate conditions of 11C belied the fact that the festive season is just round the corner. As we emerged from the forest, the Eastern crags of Beinn Fionnlaidh loomed above, with Sgor na-U-Laidh in the distance. We had discussed much including hydrocarbon breakdown, full farmer's breakfasts and le metro boulot dodo. We re-charged water from a stream and once on to the bealach at 589m, the views opened up to Glen Creran and some attractive valleys, with glittering lochans. The steep pull up to 859 allowed for a quick but sweaty ascent and from there, we were buffeted across the ridge up to Beinn Fionnlaidh summit. A couple of easy scrambles led to the cairn shelter and trig point where unfortunately, we were clagged in. Lunch was had with a fine brew and a rapid descent later, meant we were back at the car for 1510. An obligatory pint on the way back in Ardlui and a winning game of pool meant a fine day on the hill was had. The 190 M-point count was reached.

In Culra bothy with a 16-year old and impure thoughts

Sometimes you just wish you'd keep your mouth closed and stop yer tummy rumbling. A salient lesson from my Primary 7 teacher ignored. I had suggested to Graeme D that not only could we do the Ben Alder circuit from Culra bothy but we could add Carn Dearg on to this as well. As if it wasn't a long enough walk in and out. Why walk? Because we were purists and we didn't do mountain bikes. As we so proudly told the foursome on top of Ben Alder. How those words would come back to haunt me as we trudged back out past Culra on the way home 12 hours after starting out. It all started so well. I met Graeme at Dalwhinnie and we donned the head torches at 1800. The 10-mile walk in would afford a real stretch of the legs as well as time to catch up. A lot had happened in that space of time to both of us and 3 hours in the dark with a man was an unusual occurrence for me, and I presume Graeme. We covered everything from correct French statements, the accompanying 16-year old from Orkney, dire football teams (mine in particular) and babies (Graeme's in particular) - I know not the name of mine. Our pace was impressive until the 6th mile and we began to tail off round about Loch Pattack. However, we arrived at Culra and were the only ones there at 2100 - unusual on a Friday night. The fire got going, we opened our Loch affa Fyne beers and chilled out. Then, the Orcadian beauty was brought out and we savoured her. Hints of vanilla, smooth and mature for her age. My favourite Highland Park. Not long after we had fumigated ourselves with the fire, we put lights out in preparation for our big day. At 0530, we breakfasted and left the packs to tackle Carn Dearg. We hoped to see the hills as the sunrise came up and we were't disappointed. The higher we got, the more impressive Schiehallion in the distance became as did our 2nd and 3rd targets for the day. Ben Alder was a behemoth; massive; a brute; any Roget's definition you choose to make. We got to the summit at about 0730 and chilled out, looking over to Sgor Iutharn - Lancet Edge would be a destination for the future. Taste buds were truly whetted and we burned down back to the bothy to recharge food and water. At 0900, we set off for Ben Alder and the Long Leachas ridge. An excellent stalker's path took us up and over before we diverted over the burn - well Graeme went over, I went through - a faux pas of the highest order - bien fait. We began the climb up the Leachas and it was an absolute joy. We both felt strong, the exposure was stupendous and the views were fab. I really enjoyed this scramble ridge but at no point felt at risk. Once up on to the plateau, we walked along the corrie rim before setting off for the distant cairn. An off collection of 5 ringed cairns lay before us and as we took lunch in the shelter, Graeme spotted a fellow Walkhighlander, IainWatson who he had met at a WH meet. The man is a mountain goat. At this point, I boasted that as purists 'we don't do mountain bikes....bikes...bikes...bikes....' That phrase would circulate through my frazzled brain on the walk out. A steep descent off Ben Alder and up on to Beinn Bheoil with a couple of cracking rainbows and we knew we were on our way back. Still strong G? Yeah, still strong...ish. We didn't hang about much at Beinn Bheoil but marvelled in the majesty of Ben Alder across the loch. Our walk past Culra at 1540 in daylight meant at least a 2 hr 50 walk out. IW had already left us behind with his bike. I hoped he'd get a puncture. It would be fair to say that our conversation had dropped but what did come up was the lack of generosity of landowners driving past us with no thoughts of stopping for us - I mean, who are these people? Never mind, we were doing it the pure way. Pure mad mental min. The last time I checked my feet had worn down to stumps and Graeme stopped for a second - it was almost fatal as the regular gait was broken. So, were our spirits almost - oh, to be impure! Eventually, we reached the lovely, lovely level crossing at 1830 and departed after a supreme (retrospectively of course) day on the hill. Cheers Monsieur D.

The Little Cock and Meall Gorm

Ho ho ho! An Coileachean indeed. I had these two Fannaichs to do, while on a jaunt North and while I wasn't looking forward to the long boggy walk in, I was looking forward to the solitude that they offered. I was not wrong on both counts. The summits are places to sit and relax and take in the wilderness. Unfortunately, land rover tracks are in evidence East and South. Despite this, I enjoyed the odd howff, which I stumbled across and even had a gab with another manny from Glasgow. Is there nae getting away from them? I disturbed a mountain hare and roosting ptarmigan, which vocalised their displeasure at my encroachment. There and back in 5.5 hours so a good pad and fine to clear the cobwebs.

Playing with Lego and Blondie on the Devil's penis!

I was blessed over the weekend. In fact, it would be fair to say that my Cairngorm experience could not have been more magical. I had not had the best of weeks off up in Torridon as my wife who was with me had fallen ill and I was not able to get on to the hills at all. I had come back to Glasgow frustrated and pent up and my wife realised as such. "You should do an overnight trek on Friday as I'm working." Hello there Jose!!! The forecast was good and I had the sole intention of both taking in some fantastic hills in the Cairngorms and hoping to perhaps find the reindeer, which were wild. I was rather excited about the latter actually. This was evident in my stallion-esque approach to the long walk in from Linn of Dee as I roared past Carn a Mhaim and on to new territory. One often reads the accounts of others and the SMC Munro book but there is something special about heading into the wild places to take in new experiences. I was also doing a high Kinley (c) camp near the summit of Devil's Point so the night was all MINE!! Can you tell I was excited? Like an elephant in musht, I blazed past some Corrour campers and trumpeted good evening before mounting the excellent path up to the bealach. I was reminded of my maths teacher from school, Mrs Harden, first name Tina. I was at my campsite for 1930. I placed my beer in a small stream, erected my tent (the prose is rather indicative of my excitement on straddling Bod an Deamhain) and arrived at the summit. The views across the open landscape below and into Glen Geusachan were extraordinary and I was stunned. I savoured the moment. I headed back to camp and tucked into my M&S dinner of pasta and chorizo with chicken - this wasn't just a Munro experience, this was S&M - but where was the pain??? I scoffed down dinner just as the insectidae detected my skin and began the process of ramming their probosci into my veins. I didn't dwell as it was 2015 and so I thought I would do a recce and see where Cairn Toul lay. I ascended one of several paths and looked back to see my tent and Devil's Point below. Then, I could see 2 white goats stealthily approaching. This was strange....or could it be.....yes, it looked like it. Hee hee - you beauty!! I got my iPhone out and began videoing these 2 creatures which approached with curiousity - it was a mother reindeer and her wee baba - they approached to within 10 feet and I didn't have any food but they stood and looked at me before moving off. I have since found out that these were Blondie (one long antler, one stump) and Lego, her new calf. Click here for video -
Original Video - More videos at TinyPic . Only 2 of 4 white reindeer out of the entire 140-strong herd. I phoned my wife to tell her about my cervine experience and then my mum who asked with what sounded like a heavy heart "Can ye nae jist ging tae the pub like normal fowk?" Mither P just doesn't get it. I headed back down to my tent after spying Cairn Toul and watching the sun go down, whereupon I opened the coldest and tastiest beer I've had in a while. I sat for half an hour contemplating the effects of the 'black dog' and hoped that things would pick up. I then had a real sense of elation at this point and felt an extraordinary sense of how great it is to be alive and in good health. I slept. When I arose at 0445, the sun was just rising over Ben Macdui and I ate a leisurely breakfast, refreshened both by the cold morning and my experience from the night before. I took a light pack, left my tent and re-traced my steps before heading up on to the Saighdleir plateau before looking across to Cairn Toul. As I looked back to my tent, I realised I was looking at a rather fine cloud inversion. Devil's Point looked like a submarine thrusting out of the sea - the innuendo in this account really is astonishing me. I began the lovely walk round the high coire of Cairn Toul and took in the fine views over to Angel's Peak and Braeriach, where Winter (October-June) snow still remained. The descent and ascent of Sgor nan Lochain Uaine was plain in comparison that all had gone before but the view from the edge of the summit of the latter was awesome. I sat on the edge of the corrie and looked out over the vast space below me. Braeriach could easily have been taken in as it was only 0830 but I wanted to savour that Cairngorm experience for another time. I was more than satiated and what with a 19km walk back out in what would be stifling conditions, I knew it had been a beautiful trip. I'm just sorry you weren't there to share it with me!

In the Colonel's Bed before Bhac!

I had just finished reading Ian Murray's excellent account of the Dee and the Cairngorms and all the folklore associated with it. It was a compelling read and there were a number of areas, caves and places of interest which had piqued my curiousity for the hills I had left in this area. I had missed out on Carn Bhac before and wanted to have a look at the Colonel's bed, that had a fantastic tale behind it, before heading on to the hill proper. I was hot-footing it and therefore didn't fancy the long walk into Glen Ey so decided to replicate previous walks by getting high early in the walk. I would wholeheartedly encourage my route.
It was one of those balmy days, under cloud but 'warm-kind'. I fair peched along the land rover track until I saw the sign for the Colonel's bed. I had a quick look over the rim and nah, I couldnae see faraboots thon mannie micht hae bid. I then spotted a 'stair' of slippy steens and was then able to see far he'd spent mony a nicht waitin' for his wifie to bring his supplies, while he cooried in. It was an impressive site and I hope the photos of his abode give an impression of its ingenious position. I thought it was a very romantic tale, especially as it's a good 4-mile hike from Braemar, where his beloved stayed and who tried not to arouse suspicion, whereupon the Colonel would have been hanged. I urge you to read further about this. re-claimed the land rover track and turned uphill at the old ruins - another indication of how people once lived in the glens as a matter of normal life. What came across beautifully in the Murray book was that life was hard in those times yet people were generally content and lived very long lives. A fair amount of whisky was drunk too by the sounds of things. In this day and age, life is 'easy' but I wonder how many people find that happiness eludes then even though they lack for nothing.

I followed the land rover track past some grouse butts and on to Carn nan Seileach, where Carn Bhac rose in the distance. I then came across a very odd thing - a helium balloon, which was nestled in the heather - it literally astounded me and I wonder how far it had travelled to get here. It also saddened me a little that man seems to do his best to spoil the world we live in. Jeezo, I was helluva melancholy yesterday it seems. Anyway, I snapped it, bagged it and continued to the bealach, whereupon I began the final ascent up on the Carn Bhac. I arrived at the cairn with views across to Iutharn Mhor and beyond but the weather didn't look great. I had a wee bite, left some nuts for the birdles then came back the way I ascended before headin' to the 'medden. A fine dinner with mither and fither awaited - an affa fine day.

Homer has hepatitis - Sgurr nan Coireachean and Sgurr Thuilm

My titles get worse. I'm such an imagination-tart. I was due to leave work early on the Friday for an overnight expedition with Graeme D and before I left I received an email from a friend who, shall we say, has led a colourful life. He had sent me a chart of a recent blood test precipitated by his friends including me suggesting that he looked more and more like Homer everyday. His liver enzymes were off the range of normal and all this after he had cut back to about 100 units a week. He finished by saying he was off the booze but who was up for a weekend trip to Amsterdam in August? Ye widnae credit it. I picked up Graeme and Lucy-lab at Tyndrum and we shot up to Glenfinnan for 1700. A pleasant walk in was marred by the ugly work of the hydro and silica gleam of JCB. It was a bloody eyesore. As we walked past Corryhully bothy, we couldn't help but notice the big hoose on the hill - it was like something out of the Shining - very alluring too though. Now the hard work began as we took to the stalker's path - the ascent up on to the subsidiary peak for Sgurr nan Coireachean was tough going but we made good ascent and it was just lovely to have a view for a change with no thunder-drizzle to contend with. At 2005, we decided to set up camp beside a convenient lochan for Lucy to paddle and cool down, as well as have some grub. At 2100, considerably lighter, we headed across to bag Sgurr nan Coireachean and take in the sunset. I acted like a right plank at the summit and we decided to head back to camp and open our cache of Kronenbourg and Highland Park. We sat and gabbed about life, lochans and libido (Homer's in particular) as well as trying to decide what it was about the hills we loved. I spoke more sh*te than usual but Graeme did his best to nod as I ventured towards insobriety and decerebration. Time for bed. Well, without word of a lie I had a fantastic night's sleep and only woke after a dream where someone was interrupting my presentation on Cryptosporidium and they wouldn't let me speak. Infection follows me everywhere. We packed up next morning and skirted SnC before the nice amble over to Sgurr Thuilm. From here, our idea to add Streap into this walk seemed optmistic and if Graeme had said to head back at this point, I would have torn his hand off. As it was, he didn't and we began the steep descent down to the glen, which was at times quite precarious. Having reached the burn and having lost 650m, we knew the hike back up to Streap would be both arduous and tough especially as the temperature had cranked up ten degrees or so. If Graeme had said to head..cut and paste. The initial climb was steep and hard-going - poor Lucy was whimpering or was that me? After what seemed an age, we eventually arrived just below Streap's summit and bagged it before setting off along the tasty wee arete. We found a 'curious diagonal slope' and headed off, which eventually took us back to the glen and the long, long, walk back to the car. I wish my mind would shut up sometimes, after having said my boots were great and I had no foot pain, the pain was more or less imminent and pounding. The car was a welcome vista and we shook hands on what had been a great 24 hours. As for Homer, I think he may be 'tatties'.