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| Ciste Dubh |
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Mary compleat with Alan, Ciste Dubh in the background
Mary is a friend of thirty years standing and she was finishing her round of 282 munros on Ciste Dubh. It is a fine hill with a narrow ridge and perched summit above the Cluanie Inn at the head of Glen Shiel. I had not seen Mary or her husband, Alan, since they left Glasgow ten years ago but we received a phone call inviting us to her 'Compleation Party' Their three children were ages with ours and we had spent time together from babysitting, playing squash, evenings out and even joint birthday celebrations. We had watched the Live Aid concert on a glorious Saturday in 1986 when Alan lubricated the occasion with drink and Irish pride. He shared his nationality and an irrepressible urge to talk like Bob Geldorf although Alan had the humility to laugh at himself as well.
Mary hails from Stathbogie in Aberdeenshire where she had been the county cross country champion. She has a lean fitness, maintained through Jane Fonda videos, squash as well as exercising and nurturing her family, controlling Alan and being a granny of four. She was always organised and dedicated to her family and came to hillwalking later in life. I first realised that she had succumbed to hillwalking when she phoned and admonished me after one of my staff, in his mountain rescue guise, had put her and others in danger during a winter hill walking course. She was at the end of a long queue of complainants.
Speaking to some of her twenty or so colleagues from the Glasgow Glenmore Club whom she had walked with during her round, she was regarded affectionately as a strong walker and reliable companion, someone who was quite meticulous in her preparation for the more difficult groups of hills such as Fisherfield. She had continued to go on club outings despite moving from Glasgow to the northeast and this was reflected in the fine turnout for the occasion with about 26 of us on the summit.
There is a familiar story about those who compleat; they need a ruthless streak as well as the stamina and capacity to survive foul weather and dreich days in the hills. There are now 5000 members of this band of masochists and the mutual respect is something which is borne out of hundreds of hours of aching legs, damp clothes, midge bites, blisters, tolerance to ticks and long drives home. We also have a penchant to collect cupboards full of shell jackets, fleeces, boots and shoes, rucksacks, racks of maps, compasses, crampons, ice axes, hydration systems, tents, sleeping bags, altimeters and an unhealthy collection of energy bars but these are just some of the material necessities for continuing, let alone accomplishing a Munro round.
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| The track up to Ciste Dubh |
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| Breakfast view from my tent |
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| Ciste Dubh from Alltbeithe |
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| Alltbiethe Youth Hostel |
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| River Affric and Ciste Dubh |
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| Queuing for cake |
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| Bubbles from Mary |
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| Cake celebrations |
Saturday 25 August 2013
Distance: 16 kilometres
Ascent: 1015 metres
Time: 5 hours 24 minutes
m Ciste Dubh 979m 2hrs 44mins
c Am Bathach 798m 4hrs 19mins
I had slept fitfully on a warm night in the tent near the Alltbeithe Youth Hostel. It had rained overnight and the cloud level was down to 300metres only just above the camp level. I made a brew and, with a 1pm rendezvous on Ciste Dubh, I had time to spare and read for an hour before packing and setting out. I called in at the Alltbeithe Yout Hostel to return the lighter I had borrowed the night before. I had a chat with the warden who was coming to the end of her second season managing this remote haven. It is only visited by dedicated walkers and cyclists and she enjoyed meeting an amazing set of people who journeyed into this remote highland landscape. Even Steve Fallon had called in over the summer on the way to completing his fifteenth Munro round. He has accomplished this whilst maintaining his company and an excellent website, steven fallon.
I crossed the suspension bridge and admired the isolated splendour of the Youth Hostel with its wind turbine set against the massive backcloth of Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan. And then back over the boggy path towards Cluanie. I met a group of four climbers off to do my round yesterday. They had seen a large assembly of walkers in the Cluanie Inn car park and heard it was a last Munro party. I had planned on getting to the summit by 1pm but they were obviously going to be there ahead of schedule so I left the waterlogged path, crossed the burn and decided to attempt the steep eastern flank of the hill to save some time. I disturbed a herd of deer in the corrie and they raced northwards climbing with an ease that puts us to shame. The summit was still in the cloud so I had to detour to the north to avoid the steep rocky ramparts.
By 12:30pm I could hear the sound of raucous Irish laughter and guessed that Alan had arrived and lost none of his fabled shyness! I hollered and arrived in time to sample the bubbly, cakes, tablet, and various other goodies that seem to be part of the Munro compleation ritual. Alan may have been making the noise but Mary was in control as photo shots were arranged and all food and drink were consumed before bubbles were blown and the summit tidied. The party was mainly the Glenmore club from Glasgow but there were others from Montrose and Mary's sister. I discovered half a dozen former acquaintances and it was good to catch up with them. I had shared a fortieth birthday bash with Alan and it was fascinating to reprise his life over the recent years since he had moved to St Cyrus to run his own business.
There had been clouds on the summit when I arrived but by 1pm the sun had begun to assume the ascendency and we were beguiled by the panorama of splendid views that this peak offers. I had a long chat with Keith who had just returned from a 45-day walk across the Pyrenees and we lingered at the back with Mary who insisted that we follow the top of the ridge rather than undercutting it on the path like all the others. Who were we to argue on her day, she was enjoying every step of this walk and had our admiration on this day of a special achievement.
Mary decided that there was time to take in the adjacent Corbett of Am Bathach on the descent so about 15 of us made the traverse at a gentle pace in the knowledge that we would make the Cluanie Inn for an afternoon pint. The sun emerged fully as we reached the Cluanie Inn and made it a warm end to Mary's day as we lingered on the benches and tables outside the Inn and admired the knife-edge profile of Ciste Dubh.
The bunkhouse at Invergarry had been booked for the party and we returned to an evening of food and drink. It was a feast fit for a Munroist and as the evening progressed plans were made for the next day. No one goes this far north without extracting as many hills as they can. What was really evident though was the adventures and friendship that had been sown and harvested by the simple expedient of Munro bashing. It is a sport that allows you the freedom to follow or lead, to take on the weather, to discover beauty in landscapes and the subtlety of light, to discover wildlife, to burnish self-doubt, to push your body to its limits and finally to conquer an ambition which is achieved by less than 0.1% of the population.
The bonus is that it also provides a fund of memories that can be replayed when limbs and lungs are no longer capable of such adventures. So Mary, when Alan in his dotage indulges you with his finest moments on the golf course, you can nod knowingly and just dream on.
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