Beinn Mheadhoin - at last!

I don't know how many times I've considered doing this with Graeme D but our plans have been scuppered on at least 3 occasions. With a fairly decent weather window in between showers (that could be Summer), we trekked in from Linn of Dee just after 1800. Our dinner had consisted of a very dissatisfying fish supper from the chip pie - I have never before witness a fillet of fish which has turned up like a poppadom. As Graeme said, this was more deep-fried plimsole than dover sole. At least it was calories and would allow us to forego carriage of such dinner so that we may take in essentials such as beer, whisky and bars of chocolate and wine gums. Two fingers to diabetes we say!

The walk into the Cairngorms is always something special for me and with no midges around, it was very pleasant indeed. We happened upon a chap who seemed like a decent fellow but had a bit of the 1000-yard stare about him. He had just met a cyclist. carrying in a 10-kilo bag of coal on his bike and they had shared a spliff somewhere up the glen. Cool, man. We would have company at the Hutchison hut tonight and who knew which hydroponic substance would be in the offing. At 2045, we entered the coire and the Etchachan cliffs dominated the view. Another 15 minutes later and we were staring at quite possibly one of the most scenic bothies, in Scotland. Upon arrival, space-man bob was nowhere to be found - neither was his bike, his hash nor his coal. Surely he wouldn't continue on and up to Loch Etchachan with all his booty to return later that night? After de-camping and starting on the beer and whisky and chocolate, we discussed the idea that our friend with the unfeasibly long look, may actually have been on the mushrooms/the baccy/fresh air itself.

At 2145, I headed over to a small peak, where I had read you could get reception and after much rooting around, this was indeed the case. I phoned home and spoke to Emma, reassuring her all was fine. When I returned to the bothy, there was an additional human being to Graeme with bike in tow. Richard was a decent chap and we knew a common work colleague. We didn't know Dick Bush though but we sure took the name to its most puerile form, with Graeme and I heartily laughing at Dick's friend, Dick. After a couple of whiskies, we turned out the lights and sweated the night away, with Dick adding coal to the fire - I have never been so hot in a bothy and the renovation and insulation by the recent work party, is excellent.

At 0400, Graeme and I got up and took some sweets before our climb up to Loch Etchachan and on to Beinn Mheadhoin itself. Not before being sling-shot round the first tor we came to and off on a reverse trajectory back to whence we came. In fact, we would repeat the same mistake on the way back, which was very disconcerting - was there a magnetic anomaly here? We eventually arrived at the large summit tor and climbed up and on to it, taking in the deep-scoured bowls of water. I partook and it was beautifully refreshing. We waited for the clag to break but instead it started to snow and was very chilly. We decided that we had probably been lucky to have had the views and reversed our route back to the Hutchy, where we had breakfast proper. We packed up and fair motored back to the car. Mheadhoin was in the bag and we had enjoyed the bothy, with the odd tale to tell to those who would listen or read.

Seana Bhraigh

It had been two months since my last Munro outing. However, a week in Achiltibuie meant that I had my eye over this beauty. I left early to head out on the single track road in the dark and arrived at Inverlael car park for 0700. It was a 14km walk to the summit and I fair stormed across and into the glen. It was very temperate and as I ascended up the zig-zag path, I began to melt. The views up to Beinn Dearg started to open up and I could Beinn nan Enanglair peeping out. From the top of the zig-zag path, it was relatively featureless terrain so I got the head down and powered along the wee path. I wasn't prepared for the scenery over the lip and up to the three lochains but as the sun rose, I was stunned by this area of wilderness. The lochans below the cliffs to the South were partly frozen and beyond was a white plain, which seemed to extend for miles.

The terrain became consistently snow-clad and what was more, it was firm under foot. Frozen by a coruscating wind, it was an absolute joy to traverse over and down to the Cadha Dearg. I was blown away by the vast chasm which extended North-West and the cliffs over to Seana Bhraigh were beautifully precipitous. I took some tea and food here as I'd been walking solidly for about 2 hours. The wind was chilly, a reminder that Winter is not quite over yet. The walk over and up to the summit afforded my 3rd surprise of the day - the Creag an Duine ridge, which looked outstanding - already a plan to come back again for this hill was shaping. As I ascended on to the summit proper, the cornices were evident and huge. The summit sits right on the lip of the coire and presents a lovely spot to the Eastern and Northern hills. I sent a text to my wife and began the return home, which in itself was an absolute pleasure with views back over to Cona Mheall and Beinn Dearg. A fantastic day on my 230th Munro. Quite possibly one of the most wild and best of the Munros.

Sgurr a Mhaoraich

It's always good to kick off January with a Munro. After my fairly poor count last year of 13, I was keen to get going and en route to Struy, this shortish day would be a good chance to grab the Munro beside Loch Quoich. It has to be said the weather was atrocious and I didn't have a good feeling about my prospects of staying dry. Obstinate venison were moved on not far from the parking area that I chose and I found the start of the stalker's path easily. It's a joy to get back on decent paths and I made quick progress up on to the shoulder of Mhaoraich. I had hoped that by getting higher, it might get drier (i.e. snow) but it wasn't until about 850m, that this happened. At which point the wind was furious. Views back over Loch Quoich to conquered hills last year such as Sgurr Mor were surprisingly good although the colour of the sky was not and promised more inclement weather.

Some impressive cornices into the northern coire meant I kept well back. The final climb up a fairly dodgy rock face was eased by previous footprints and it was at this point when the fury of mother nature unleashed snow and hail into my face. The short walk to the ice-clad summit saw me cower behind the cairn and take a welcome cup of tea. It was not a place to linger and I took a bearing SE to avoid crags further down. By the time I returned down off the mountain, I was soaked through. At 4 hours 20, I had walked pretty quickly but it wasn't really a day to contemplate anything except the future tumble drying of clothes. Nonetheless, a smashing Munro with surprisingly decent views considering the weather.

Carn an Fhidhleir and An Sgarsoch from the Tarf bothy

After a decent sleep in the bothy, we had breakfast and gave the bothy a quick sweep. I wondered how many people would frequent this over the next 3 months since we had been the only ones in on the 1st December. Since it's repairs, it really is a wonderful bothy and the hard work to get here makes it even better. We had our first obstacle of the day i.e the 20m wide Tarf river. I opted for bare feet with sock and shoes tied away while Em and Daz marched through with boots. The water was freezing but on the other side, I felt energised. Our trump up the shallow coire eventually saw us at the bealach between the two Munros. Em was struggling a wee bit with blisters but we left the packs and began our ascent on to the Fiddler. A fairly long walk into the cloud was a little disheartening but things would get better with a bum slide down a snow field and some sunshine. I phoned Em then we began our descent. Once back at the packs and with a Compeed applied, things were better and our ascent on to An Sgarsoch was very quick. We topped out just before mid-day. From here, the views over the Cairngorms were stunning. Our high level walk took us round and down towards the Tarf, where we would cross before making our way back via a land rover track.

The MO for both parties was similar to this morning's river efforts - while Em and Daz fared better, I plunged into the depths and got a bit of a soaking. However, our walk on to easier ground meant we were in decent spirits and ready for the 10-mile walk out to the cars. I felt good but about 5 miles out and at 1615, it was head-torches on. Although we made a good pace, it wasn't until 1800 we got back to the cars. Glen Tilt is a beautiful glen and one to return to for solitude but it was a sore last few kilometres for me and Emma. Daz, fresh from his 100km run didn't feel it so. A tremendous weekend with a 62km distance at 1850m ascent and 17 hours walking time. Fabulous.

Am Faochagach

I have to say this wasn't exactly a hill I was bursting to do. Especially after having had such a stupendous time on Quinag, a few days previously. However, it's always good getting out and it seemed to be a quick jaunt so that Mrs P wasn't too put out by me being away from our holiday location in Achiltibuie. The one thing that was clear in reading reports about this was the approach was boggy to nigh impossible, after heavy rain. Fortunately, it had been dry up this way and while there was undoubted bog to cross, I made light work of this and the infamous river crossing. Ignore the small cairn, which apparently reflects the easiest crossing - it isn't. My approach (pictured) was great but then again, it was done when the river was relatively low. Once over this, it was a straightforward approach up on to the bealach. A good point to rest, re-fuel and take in the views of clag. I can imagine that the view from the hill over to the Beinn Dearg hills can be quite stupendous. Unfortunately for me, my best photo was of a mountain hare which was happy to be snapped and never moved an inch, even as I was a close as 5 ft. I fairly romped off the hill after re-arranging the cairn to offer some shelter and was back at the car in 4 hours 15 mins. This hill epitomises why those who only Munro bag are really missing out. Perhaps I had just been spoiled by Quinag experience.

Sgurr Mor and Sgurr nan Coireachean with Sgurr Beag wild camp

I hadn't been down the far end of Loch Arkaig but I had agreed to meet Darren at a specified grid reference as we would be leaving at different times. Prior to the jaunt over to Sgurr Beag, I had taken in the two Corbetts as described in my Corbett blog. After the descent off Sgurr na Cos-Breachd laoigh, my legs were cramped beyond belief. The descent and ascent over An Eag was painful and I was aware that my pace was very slow. I descended once again to the bealach below Sgurr Beag and took some refreshments, while spying on a heard of deer who watched suspiciously. The final ascent on to Sgurr Beag was helped enormously by the zig-zag path and never have I been so happy to dump my stuff and sit down at the summit. I found an excellent pitch which was flat and slightly mossy. The view over to Sgurr Mor was nice but it wouldn't prepare me for the sunrise the next day. Darren arrived about 30 minutes later and we both got stuck into some food before the obligatory uisge beath was poured. It had been 15 months since our Skye trip and a lot had happened. We decided that we'd hit the sack by 2230 and rise at 0430 for the sunrise experience. I had a fabulous sleep and my awakening the next day was a magical experience with one of the best sunrises I had witnessed. The photos do the moment justice. We dropped down and climbed back up on to Sgurr Mor, a behemoth of a Munro and only appreciated its large coire face when heading over to Sgurr Fhurain. This was a great Corbetts and afforded great views over to Fraoch Bheinn. We returned back to the tents and already, I was beginning to flag. I told Daz to crack on and he shot off at speed. He would do the entire ridge to the last Munro but my trip ended at the summit of Coireachean as the previous day's efforts took their toll. I dropped down South and began the fairly tortuous descent back to the path in Glen Dessary. From here, it was a painful walk back to the car but 2 Munros and 3 Corbetts was a decent haul. That sunrise experience made up for it all though.

Ben More via Beinn Fhada and A Chioch

The Scottish Hills meet on Mull had already been 1 day old by the time I set off from an tir mor. This would be my first time on Mull and I was quite excited as I love the islands. I disembarked at Craignure and sped round towards Salen, our base for the week. I deposited perishables and a couple of bottles of malty drinkable for the group of 10, who I hadn’t yet met. Mull and the mainland had been baking for a few days and I wasted no time in driving round to my first objective; Beinn Fhada and the A’Chioch ridge leading to Ben More. I could just see the latter towering above and it looked a formidable hill. The car said 24 degrees centigrade and the initial climb on to Fhada was energy-sapping until I emerged on to the ridge proper and a beautiful easternly wind caressed my sweaty brow. Already, views over to the Treshnish islands were dominant with Bac Mor or Dutchman’s Cap most notable. The two Marilyns to the North looked like nice little hills. Future trips were already being planned.


I climbed up on to point 568 and the views opened up nicely with the ‘long ridge’ and the rest of the intended route before me. The dark, North-facing coire face of Ben More appeared as a giant Manta ray, looming over A’Chioch. It was an enjoyable meander, passing many rocks covered in eagle poop. Just before the last lochain, I left my poles behind for the hands-on scramble required to get to the summit. From here, Mull opened up before me, although disappointingly there was a bit of haze. I returned to my poles and began the descent to the bealach separating Fhada and A’Chioch. The climb up to this peak was most enjoyable and afforded some fantastic views down into the glen below, which had some very interesting geology - I even spotted an overhanging crag which I thought would be of interest to Dave MacLeod or the likes.

At 1630, I emerged on to the summit and the ridge leading up to Ben More looked sensational. I had decided I would take the most entertaining line up this ridge and stuck to the Westernly aspect, which allowed for some nice scrambling. This got even more enjoyable higher up. I had heard shouts above me on several occasions and wondered whether there was a competition or just some over-excitable weans up on the summit. Just as I walked on to the summit, a girl with blonde dreadlocks walked over and shook my hand while exclaiming how much she had enjoyed watching me scramble up the route. What a welcome! Clare and I spent the next 15 minutes chatting about the wild, the hills and our experiences with hers far out-trumping mine. Tales of Nepal, Kangjenchunga and New Zealand sounded fantastic and Clare worked manually day by day to supplement such trips, with no permanent abode. In a way, I was a little envious of her life. I noticed her hands were very rough and she had the face of someone who enjoyed the outdoors. We shook hands and I began the descent back to the car. The path was huge and I forget how popular the Munros are. After such a stimulating walk, the return felt a little anti-climactic but it was relaxing nonetheless. It had been a terrific introduction to Mull and I had been blessed with the conditions. All that remained was to meet the SHills crew, who were a very welcoming bunch.