What Now after Brexit Vote?

The last twelve hours have been a trip down my memory lane of elections. As I watched the early results of the referendum come in, my returning officer antenna kicked in. I went to bed by 2am already pretty certain that Leave would win by 4 or 5% and said so to a friend who was texting me for updates because he had no TV reception in his hotel. I had heard that the tellers, who are normally very astute and meticulous observers of the count, were calling massive leads for vote leave in leafy Warwickshire as well as Southampton.

London and Scotland could never counterbalance this as well as the avalanche of leave votes that were emerging from industrial urban areas like Sunderland, the east of England and the stockbroker belt in Surrey and Hertfordshire. I woke up every couple of hours and checked the counts coming in. The leave vote was winning, the £ was crashing and the normally studiously balanced BBC reporters were becoming increasingly frazzled and giving vent to their feelings about the results. If only they had shared more of their views during the campaign. Unlike most politicians, celebrities and newspaper journalists, public service broadcasters still have some credibility. Unfortunately, BBC presenters seemed to base their objectivity on Brexit as a function of air time for the two sides rather than forensic analysis of the facts. We will come to regret this and the BBC have been as complicit as the Murdoch media, the Mail, Express and Telegraph in duping the electorate about false and unrealistic claims by the Leave campaign.

By 7am I was dozing and listening to the outcome on the radio. I have not felt this angry about an election result since May 1979 when Mrs Thatcher came to power with a stridency that was ominous. She had crafted a small-minded narrative that trashed the trade unions and by association the Labour Party with a mission to undermine public services (sic). Now the narrative had cast the European Union as the organisational victim. This time the cocktail of deceit had an unhealthy dose of xenophobia and an anti-establishment vendetta added to the mix. It was the leave members of the establishment: Farage, Johnson and Gove who were trashing the very establishment that they inhabited to cultivate support from those communities who had suffered most from the recession and austerity measures of the past 8 years.

It was no surprise when the prime minister resigned. He has always been a lucky politician and knows better than anyone that the next few years will be a period of political, economic and cultural chaos. He knew that the pent-up venom of European leaders, the city and half the population would be directed at the man who thought it was a good idea to have a referendum. As an institutional coward and serial survivor, he needed to pass the baton of leadership to the Brexit gang.

Cameron had the good fortune to replace unpopular Tory leaders Iain Duncan Smith and Michael Howard; this made him seem both modern and statesmanlike. His opponent in 2010 was Gordon Brown who had little voter appeal and was widely, but wrongly, blamed for the 2008 crash. Cameron duped Nick Clegg to be his fall guy in the coalition government and then stole back the Lib Dem vote in 2015 when they took the stick for the more damaging government decisions. Ed Miliband, his opponent in 2015, was crucified by the PM's friends in the press. In the referendum, his luck and the trust of the electorate was already exhausted. He had been besmirched by his father's promotion of tax havens and the press was against him by a 4:1 ratio. The brutal but apparently benign ambition of Boris Johnson was his nemesis. Johnson, in typical fashion, exuded his much-vaunted but dubious charisma that conceals his woeful lack of humanity, duplicitous nature as well as his myopic vision.

So what now?

Cameron and Osborne's replacements will probably be Bo & Go who are as much part of the establishment as Cameron and Osborne despite having attacked the bankers and the unequal distribution of wealth during their fetid campaign with all the sincerity of Big Brother contestants. Despite their attempts to dump Farage, he will continue to intervene and claim "it was me wot done it" with the regularity of a cuckoo clock.

No doubt the SNP will announce plans for another Indy referendum and, if successful, Scotland would inherit a devolved budget that is even less than George Osborne had planned for the next 4 years. The only way of making further significant public expenditure savings will be to target pensions, maybe this will be a nemesis for the age group that has voted for Brexit.

Potentially the most important outcome will come from a realignment of the progressive parties. The Labour Party is on the verge of meltdown already and the Lib Dems can't become much less popular. The Greens are admired for their principles but make little impact in the representative democratic game of thrones. The mood of the younger voters and many concerned older voters, including the baby boomers, could lead to them abandoning the old party labels and voting for the most progressive candidates. An alliance of the socially liberal, environmentalists, communitarians, media savvy and globally aware. Social media could fuse them together in a movement that defies political labels. It could provide a dynamic political agenda that challenges global corporations and creates a wiser, safer, more peaceful and ethical worldview. One that will never occur through the prism of the current political parties that are driven by their careerist members more than their relevance to the rapidly changing economic, social and environmental circumstances of today.

And as for Europe, well it too will have to think again. The austerity in Greece, Portugal, Spain and other countries has already resulted in the increasing presence of new left-of-centre organisations such as  Podemos in Spain or Syriza in Greece. But elsewhere in France, Austria and some of the former Soviet bloc countries such as Poland and Hungary right-wing nationalist groups are growing in influence on the back of the refugee crisis. The existing centre parties are in danger of suffering the same fate as the Remain camp. They are seen as the euro-establishment and the custodians of a stagnating and unequal Europe.

The EU must abandon its neo-liberal stance, tackle the refugee crisis with a modicum of humanity, get to grips with corporate tax evasion and give a lead on environmental matters and climate change if it is to survive the contagion of Brexit. In other words shift the paradigm of its operation from political and economic integration with an unhealthy subservience to the global corporates towards a more ethical, social, cultural, and environmental focused organisation that truly integrates and supports the people of Europe. Is it possible, maybe and dropping TTIP would be the icing on the cake.

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

In or Out

Oh! What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive"

The nearer the referendum comes the more it seems like a gigantic diversion from getting things done. Since 2014, the UK government with and without the Lib Dems has been treading water. Austerity isn't working so we'll continue it until 2020, the NHS reforms haven't worked so we'll run up more deficits, companies that run school academies are failing so we'll re tender, renewable energy is making a difference so we'll stop funding it and subsidise nuclear power instead. Too many global companies are evading tax so we'll kick that one into touch and say its a European Union issue. Migration is spiralling upwards as a result of all the low paid, temporary and insecure jobs so we'll stop taking refugees.

The Tory party is in internal strife over Europe so they have chosen to allow the electorate to decide about continued membership of European Union and call it democracy. It is snakes and ladders leadership with a loaded dice. And then in true British style we'll let the press tell us what to do and salivate at the opinions of celebrities. This morning we had a full page advert from those icons of self publicity Richard Branson and David Beckham, who reminds us that he had been paid handsomely to play in Manchester, Madrid, Milan and Paris. They are both remain advocates, unlike Katie Hopkins and Joan Collins who are in the leave camp - if only they would. James Dyson who makes big profits from manufacturing vacuums in Malaysia and Lord Bamford of JCB, who has a record of using tax havens, are also in the leave camp and constantly quoted by Johnson and Gove to imply that business believes we should leave. Meanwhile over a thousand business leaders write to the Times to support remain.

The economy is supposed to be the vital argument but this does not include economy with the truth. The lies, innuendo, scares and corruption of statistics have plumbed new depths. What our politicians, economists, journalists, celebrities, bankers, business leaders and bureaucrats have in common is that no-one trusts them. The tit for tat of fact and fiction has continued throughout the campaign and the electorate are possibly more confused about an issue that is, according to many academics, too complex and uncertain to call. A neighbour was on the side of Brexit until the Jo Cox killing and, as an ex mental health nurse, she blames the failure of community mental health services for the killing. But like many others sees Jo Cox as the patron saint of remain and is therefore inclined to vote remain.

The BBC have been so obsessed with balance that they have inoculated their journalists against having opinions. This has served to confuse and is just as unhelpful the press over egging their owner's prejudices. Together with the remain and leave camps the media and press contributions have not been worth a hill of beans. Oh what a tangled web they weave!

Conversely I have have seen two clips, one serious and one silly, that have captured the imagination. For those with a phobia to Twitter Professor Michael Dougan provides a clear analysis of UKs relationship with the EU. For those who like cold humour John Oliver on Last Week Tonight provides a harsh but funny critique of Brexit. Together they provide a menu that is much more useful than the trivial mutterings from a collective of celebrities and tax evading business leaders.

The day I gave my feet a rest

Strathfarrar

After two punishing and hot days walking the 9 munros in Glen Affric and Mullardoch, my feet were shredded - wet socks from river crossings, relatively new trail shoes, searing heat and rough terrain had seen to that. My plan had been to climb the Strathfarrar 4 munros the next day but I was struggling to limp around the campsite the night before, my feet told me that this would be a folly. Instead, John and Mark climbed the Corbett, Beinn a' Bhathaich Ard, from the gatehouse at the entrance to Strathfarrar Glen and I was left with 4 hours to kill. I never realised that pottering around could be such fun.

After reading a newspaper that I had bought in Cannich, I walked back to the A831 Strathglass road. The quiet solitude was only broken by happy birdsong. I decided to walk down to the Erchless estate and castle, which had always intrigued me on drives along Strathglass. I was passed by a car that belonged to one of the estate workers and I asked if it would be ok to look around the buildings, he saw no reason why not. Like so many parts of the highlands, it had a wonderful collection of buildings with stables. courtyards, fine masonry details and a massive walled garden. A number of the cottages were available as holiday lets as is the castle with accommodation for 16 people. Sited alongside the river Glass it is in a superb location and crying out to be restored to its former splendour when a Highland estate. The walled garden was overgrown but was a remarkable enclosure within high stone walls that if restored would host a garden just as impressive as Threave in Dumfries or the Lost Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall.

I took a peek at the castle, which seemed occupied by holidaymakers, before setting off back to Strathfarrar and calling in at the Cnoc hotel for a morning coffee. After eventually finding someone to serve me I sat on the south-facing patio bathed in the morning sun and surrounded by massive lupins with wagtails feeding their young.  I felt like an unscripted extra in a Monty Python sketch. I had a chat with the manager and the man maintaining the beer pumps before continuing my walk back.  At Struy bridge, I watched the translucent waters flow past below and met three Swiss fishermen. I was able to tell them where to obtain a fishing permit and when they asked what was the best method of fishing I told them that my father had always used grasshoppers on the river Beauly when we used to holiday near here. "Grasshoppers," they asked surprised? "Yes like in Zurich," I replied. They thanked me and set off to the hotel to buy their permits. I wondered if I could still catch grasshoppers, I used to be paid a shilling for every five I caught for my father using my sister's seaside bucket and a midge net.

It was time to move on and at the start of the Strathfarrar road, there was a section of mown grass alongside the river. I had time to lie down in the sun and sunbathe for half an hour. The walk back to the car was interrupted as two young mothers passed me on the narrow road in cars laden with their broods of children and bicycles. They had parked next to Mark's car and we engaged in a long conversation about cycling with children, the mesmeric quality of Strathfarrar, and living in the highlands, they both lived nearby. Their husbands arrived on their road bikes and one of them was a keen hill walker so we found another rich seam of conversation until the mothers had finally dressed, helmeted and installed their young children on bikes and they set off up the glen.

I asked them to tell the nut-brown skinny man walking down the glen to hurry up, his lift was waiting. Mark arrived about five minutes later. Whilst he was changing for the journey home, a family in an Austin 7 came to speak to me about where they could find a walk. Despite living in Inverness they seemed unaware of the charms of Strathfarrar. They would still have time to get through the entrance gate before the glen closed for lunch. I encouraged them to sample the delights ahead. There would be any number of short walks and the scenery was perfectly matched to their car, both superb relics of pre-war Britain.

Half an hour later we were sitting in a friend's garden in the Black Isle over a pot of tea and some freshly baked cheese and chive scones whilst catching up on families, friends and the ways of the world. The day had been thoroughly therapeutic, my sore feet had been given the chance to recuperate and even the A9 seemed an easy journey but for once I wasn't driving. Taking some more travelled roads rather than tough mountain paths had made all the difference.

Beinn a' Bhathach Ard in Strathfarrar

Erchless Castle

Cnoc Hotel for coffee

Wagtail and mouthful

River Glas from Struy bridge

Time travellers in Austin 7

Mullardoch Munros

An Socach, An Riabhachan and Sgurr na Lapaich from Toll Creagach

Climbing An Socach in the morning heat

An Socach summit

Breaking through the cloud - looking back to Sgurr na Ceathreamhnan

Looking east down Loch Mullardoch

Carn Eighe and Mam Sodhail from An Socach

 icloud message from Monar munros

Across the bealach to An Riabhachan

Sgurr na Lapaich and Loch Toll Bhearnach from the east

Mullardoch dam and the new hydro scheme road

Sunday, 5 June 2016

Ascent:      1765 metres
Distance:   23 kilometres
Time:         9 hours 48 minutes

m   An Socach                          1069m      2hrs 29mins
t     An Riabhachan west top    1040m
t     South-west top                   1086m      3hrs  39mins
m   An Riabhachan                  1129m       4hrs  2mins
m   Sgurr na Lapaich               1150m       5hrs  56mins
m   Carn na Gobhar                   992m       7hrs 19mins


Day 2 of the Affric - Mullardoch round started shortly after 7am. The others had bivvied on the dry ground and we had been spared the midges by a fresh easterly night breeze. My Hilleberg Akto tent is not heavy but along with stove, pans and food for two, it made for a heavier pack than I would have liked for the slog ahead. An Socach lies at the western end of the Mullardoch ridge and involves a 700-metre climb to its summit from our camp spot by the river running into Loch Mullardoch. It is one of the half-dozen most remote Munros and the guidebooks advise access via Iron Lodge, not a route I had ever taken. I had climbed it twice in each direction along with the other three Mullardoch Munros. Once by taking the boat from the Mullardoch dam and climbing it from the south-east and once as a three-day hike along the Strathfarrar four, the Achnashellach five and then An Socach and the rest of the Mullardoch munros from the north-west. Today would be a reversal of the east to west traverse in 1991, a day that remains one of my favourite days on the hills.

We were helped at the start by almost two kilometres of a path used by eight track vehicles that rises northwards to over 500 metres. We walked like zombies in our own zone - low cloud made for limited visibility, a poor night's sleep, and in my case no water - I had not wanted to top up from the river. We breached the cloud level at about 450 metres and gazed in awe at our hills of yesterday and the still distant prospect of An Socach. Emerging from the cloud meant that we had lost the cool conditions and the heat of the day was set for boiling. We reached the outlying south-west ridge of Meall Shuas and enjoyed the wonderful combination of the mountains set against azure skies and the glens filled with the dense white cloud, it never ceases to inspire you.

There is a long flat ridge that arcs round before the final 350 metres of climbing to the summit. John and I veered off to the right and found a gurgling spring for a long drink, to fill our bottles and to take a cooling wash in that order. Then the slow plod to the summit each step a personal duel with gravity. Gregor and Mark were ahead and relaxing at the summit when we arrived. There were perfect conditions and we enjoyed 15 minutes of respite before setting off for the long steep descent to bealach Bholla and then a matching climb to the west top of An Riabhachan.

We met a South African walker, who was on the descent full of the joys of having bivvied on the ridge and waking to the temperature inversion and the sensation of being above the clouds. John and I were making steady progress using our years of experience to pace ourselves for the long hot day ahead. When we reached the south-west top and after I had cooled myself down in the adjoining patch of snow, we settled for a longish break and let Gregor and Mark off the leash. Gregor had to drive back to Glasgow and my stuff was in his car. Mark would transfer it to his car and John and I would take a more leisurely stroll over these fine mountains. They had disappeared along the ridge to the summit and started the descent down Creagan Toll an Lochain before we set off.

The long ridge of An Riabhachan provides easy walking over 4 kilometres and as we were halfway down the descent to the 820m bealach below Sgurr na Lapaich we met a single woman walker. It was after 1pm and she wanted to know how long to An Socach, we told her two and a half-hour and warned her that it was an equally long return. I pointed out the route off An Riabhachan to the shores of Loch Mullardoch that would save a lot of additional climbing but explained that the path along the shore does not make for easy walking. She wanted to be back at her car by 8pm but I doubt that she would manage it much before 10pm. We continued to the bealach and had no difficulty climbing the first hundred metres to where fresh springs provided more cool water. After that, it was back into automatic for the remaining 250 metres of the climb to the rocky summit.

Sugar na Lapaich has ambivalent characteristics, a real mountain feel with rocky ramparts, a wonderful Corrie to the west and a commanding position. But it is a difficult slog from any direction and the summit is a bit of a jumble of rocks. We ate what food we had left; at the end of a two-day romp around the hills, this is always a bit of shock. I had not brought any chocolate, it was too hot, and eaten my last roll on An Riabhachan, so some fruit and nuts and one of John's oat bars together with another slug of spring water. The descent is a bit tricky, there was still some soft snow resting on massive boulders and then the boulders themselves before a final curving descent down a grassy path to the gorgeous grassy meadow above Loch Toll Bhearnach - what a wonderful camping spot.

The climb up Carn nan Gobhar is fairly straightforward, not too steep and not too long, we passed the true summit and headed to the more southerly top, which has a cairn and a view. Chance for our last stop of the day. My feet had become increasingly sore during the last descent and it was of some comfort that we could see the scar of a new track leading up from the loch, yet another new hydro scheme under construction. We dropped to the bealach and headed down but we had not gone far enough to find the stalker's path so it was steep grass following a roaring underground spring that surfaced every now and again and provided more cool water.

My feet were struggling to cope by the time I reached the bulldozed track. I had mixed feelings about the track, this was a beautiful glen with the burn cutting through rock bands and birch and rowan trees along its banks. It was now an ugly gash with the massive pipes being buried beneath the much-disturbed ground and a battery of buildings at the lochside, although some of these would disappear with the construction workers and vehicles once completed. On the other hand, it provided an easy walk out and that included the final kilometre along the lochside that had been anything but an easy path on past walks. We passed the dam and the strange collection of boats and sheds and arrived back at the car where Mark was waiting.

Gregor had got off at 4:30pm, later than expected but he too had suffered sore feet. Wet socks, tight shoes, heat and rough terrain are not a recipe for happy feet. We drove down to Cannich and decided to stay at the well managed and attractive campsite. After erecting our tents, a shower and a tidy up of our gear we were in time to go back into Cannich and chance our arm on getting some food at the Slater's Arms. As the campsite warden told us, don't expect any smiles or food. We discovered what he meant as we were put in waiting because we had not booked a table in advance; what sort of place does he think he is running? Then we remembered that the campsite also hosts lots of caravans and caravaners tend to plan ahead not live for the moment. I explained that I would not be able to climb the Strathfarrar four munros tomorrow as planned. They had already made alternative plans on the basis that I would be unable to walk. Mark would give me a lift home after a morning walk up the Corbett, Beinn a' Bhathacch Ard in Strathfarrar.  John would stay on for a couple of days to complete his corbetts in the Affric area.

Glen Affric Munros

Carn Eighe summit

Looking across the cloud filled Loch Mullardoch from Toll Creagach

Tom a' Choinnich from Toll Creagach

Beinn Fhionnlaidh from Carn Eighe

Loch Mullardoch from Carn Eighe

Looking back from Carn Eighe 

Carn Eighe from Mam Sodhail

Another late finish looking west to Five Sisters

In 1991 I enjoyed one of my all time favourite walks - a one and a half day anti-clockwise loop round Loch Mullardoch taking in 9 munros. We were fortunate to have good weather and the day before I had just landed a significant new job so I was buzzing with energy. I have always intended to repeat the walk and seeing a good weekend approaching I arranged with two of my most regular walking partners: John and Mark together with son, Gregor, to head to Cannich in Glen Affric. This time we would attempt it clockwise so that Gregor and Mark could add a further three munros to the round, Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan, An Socach and Mullach na Dheiragain. I had already climbed these hills on this round and had no desire to perform an heroic 12 hour walk. I had done plenty of those in the past and wanted to savour these mountains. We drove up to Strathpeffer late on Friday evening after Gregor had finished work. I had found a bargain deal for b&b in a hotel, the beer and several games of pool were a bonus. We had arranged to meet the others at the Mullardoch dam at 10:30am the next morning.

Saturday, 4 June 2016

Ascent:     1998 metres
Distance:  23 kilometres
Time:        11 hours 10 minutes

m    Toll Creagach                      1054m      2hrs 18mins
t      West Top                             951m      
m    Tom a' Choinich                  1112m      3hrs  10mins
t      Tom a' Choinich Beag         1032m     3hrs  50mins    
t      An Leth-chreag                  1051m     4hrs  08mins
t      Sron Garbh                         1131m    
t      Stob Coire Dhomhnuill       1137m     4hrs 48mins
t      Stob a' Choire Dhomhain    1147m       
m    Carn Eighe                         1183m     6hrs 03mins
m    Mam Sodhail                      1181m    6hrs  48mins
m    Beinn Fhionnlaidh              1005m   8hrs 24mins

We were ahead of the scheduled meeting time despite stopping at Beauly for a camping gas cartridge and another midge net but there was an adventure race starting from the dam at Mullardoch and a fleet of buses was ferrying the competitors up the glen from Cannich. The road is too narrow to attempt passing manoeuvres with buses so we parked off road near the start of the glen where John had camped overnight because the campsite in Cannich was full. We sorted our rucksacks for the two day adventure. Gregor had taken my bivvy bag so I was the only one carrying a tent plus the stove, pans and food for two days as well as couple of litres of water. I felt like a 13 year old horse in the Grand National, unfairly handicapped on my race form of younger years. In the process of packing I forgot to bring my camera, I noticed within 15 minutes of starting but the day was long and I decided against going back to retrieve it.

It was 10:45am before we finally started, there was low cloud and the route up Toll Creagach was not obvious. I found a faint boggy track from the empty cottage to a gate and then an even fainter track that led alongside a burn. We decided to head upwards from the burn and to weave through the rock bands heading up a ridge that would eventually take us onto Doire Tana, the hill immediately south of the dam. We broke out of the cloud at 600metres and from here there is a pleasant walk over short grass to Toll Creagach

The final climb up to Toll Creagach was at a reasonable angle and we now had sight of the long haul ahead. Two other walkers were perched at the summit and after a brief chat they left for the walk over to Tom a' Choinich. We followed 5 minutes later. There is an easy saunter across to the west top of Toll Creagach and then a drop to a bealach before a 250 metre climb to the summit of Tom a' Choinich. Gregor surged ahead with youth on his side and Mark following, they had three more hills planned than John and I. We were walking well within ourselves and passed the two other walkers on route. I encouraged Mark and Gregor to set off on the next leg so they could complete the three extra munros including the impressive the Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan before nightfall; they would be lucky to finish before 10pm.

The two walkers arrived and we began another conversation with them. One, who was ages with us, had completed a round of munros at the age of 19 in 1968 and looked to be clad in the same gear including a Karrimor Joe Brown rucksack. He was helping his younger companion who was halfway through a round and they asked me to take a photo of them. A young couple also had arrived at the summit and the girl had stared at me with some recognition. As I took the photo I asked them if they could move from the cairn as they would be photo bombing otherwise. The girl shouted out, it is Keith isn't it? It was Jenny, daughter of an old friend and occasional walking companion Alan.

Jenny had climbed half a dozen munros with us in the past and been at two of my munro compleations as well as at Alan's compleation on Mayer and Driesh. She had also walked with us on a memorable summer outing on Ben Hope. She was just married and back from her honeymoon and, as you do, she was guiding her new husband, Seb, up his third and fourth munros. We had an animated 15 minutes conversation catching up on families and life in general. It is always a delight to see young walkers enjoying the freedom and adventures of hillwalking and to have so much in front of them. It was good to hear of her progress from education to work in Cambridge and now back in Scotland contemplating where to live with their jobs in Stirling and Edinburgh.

John and I began the next leg, a long but enjoyable walk over four tops towards the massive looming peak of Carn Eighe. The afternoon was very warm, the ground was dry and we were relaxed knowing that it was light until well after 10pm with the hills ahead amongst the best. Halfway up Sron Garbh I heard the sound of running water and descended off route down a rock strewn slope for 60 metres to replenish my supply of water. I figured it would be the last chance before our descent from Beinn Fhionnlaidh late in the evening. It was a worthwhile diversion and I was soon stepping out on the beautiful ridge round to Stob a'coire Dhomhnuill.

On the descent from here I met Hazel Strachan, on her eighth round of munros, I didn't know who she was at first, a lone petite woman carrying a massive pack is not someone you meet everyday on the hills, even though there are far more women walkers on the hills nowadays. I asked where she had been camping and we had a long chat about her exploits. John had read an article about her in the Scottish Mountaineering magazine and we were left in no doubt about her meticulous planning and determination. Her achievements carried our conversation all the way to the Carn Eighe summit where another four walkers were absorbing the glorious evening light. We continued without much delay dropping to the bealach and climbing the twin summit of Mam Sodhail.

Someone had set up a tent near the summit and despite the time, around 6pm, a lot of people were coming and going. Days like this are rare and everyone seemed to be extracting the maximum pleasure from being on the the highest peaks north of the great glen. We still had quite a distance to walk and began the penultimate leg of the day, a drop to the bealach where we had dumped our packs and, after some food, we traversed under the western slopes of Carn Eighe. There is a faint path and despite several sections of boulders it is not difficult. We began the final climb of the day to Beinn Fhionnlaidh after dropping our packs at the foot of the slope. We had once climbed this hill direct from Loch Mullardoch and had no desire to descend directly down these brutal slopes. The summit was an excellent viewpoint for Loch Mullardoch and to scan the extent of our exertions of the day. But it was 7:30pm and it was quite a way to the camp site I had identified and marked on Gregor's map.

We returned to the foot of the slope, collected our packs and began a descent down the grassy slopes to Gleann a' Choilich. As always on these descents, there were sections of wet ground, occasional boulders and burns to cross. We eventually arrived at the stalker's path that runs up to An Socach, it is no longer in good condition but provides a direct line to the head of the loch. We reached the crossing point of the river,  someone was camped across the other side. It was 9pm far too late to take off my shoes and then dry my feet, besides I had no towel, so I waded across the stony river.

We climbed back up to the track leading westwards under Mullach na Dheiragain, which hopefully Gregor and Mark would be descending. As the track began to climb I decided to drop to the river that runs into Loch Mullardoch and wade across this whilst my feet were still wet. We were left with another couple of kilometres to the camp spot although I was tempted to pitch tent by a rare flat grassy sites en route. As we arrived we could see two figures in the far distance with Mark's bright orange coloured jumper acting as a surrogate moon as the evening light faded. It was time to make camp and have something to eat. Gregor and I delighted in a cup-a-soup and some pasta n' sauce before he and the others dived into their bivvy bags and I retreated into the comparative comfort of my tent. Day 1 had been a hard jaunt in the heat but utterly memorable.

Corserine, Galloway

Corserine from the approach through the plantations

Thursday, 2 June 2016

Ascent:      1067 metres
Distance:   17 kilometres
Time:        4 hours 44minutes


c    Corserine           814m      1hr 37mins
dt  Millfire              716m       2hrs 25mins
d   Milldown           738m      2hrs 40mins
d   Meikle Millyea  746m      3hrs 5mins

The walk in along Birger Natvig Road

View south from Corserine summit

Merrick

Merrick to Shalloch on Minnoch

Over Loch Dee to Curleywee

Rhinns of Kells from Meikle Millyea towards Corserine

Loch Dungeon and Corserine

A week of near-perfect weather in Galloway looking after grandchildren and enjoying the sumptuous local produce, glorious landscapes and pottering around towns and galleries left me desperate for a hill walk. Corserine is one of four corbetts in this part of the world and the only one I have not previously climbed, although Shalloch on Minnoch was during a mountain marathon and visibility was washed out so I will need to repeat it at some stage. We were staying near the comfortable market town of Castle Douglas and Corserine was not much more than a 35-minute drive away including the drive to Forrest Lodge in the Fred Olsen Forrest Estate.

The extensive conifer plantations that radiated from the car park were along tracks named after Scandinavians and meant a good examination of the map was required before setting out to climb the track to the foot of Corserine, I had left the house at 6:45am so walking at 7:30am meant that I was enjoying the coolness of the early morning sun and the clearest blue sky imaginable. I had bought a map of the area to help me through the maze of forestry roads but there were signs for hillwalkers that took me to a stile over a deer fence and the open hillside of Corserine. The route out to Corserine is along Birger Natvig Road.

The path was distinct but narrow and it twisted up the steepish slopes leading to North Gairy, the eastern ridge of Corserine. Maybe it was the time of day but the climb seemed an easy ascent and I was soon on the ridge leading to a cairn at the eastern end of the plateau. I could see the trig point 500 metres away and I bounced across the springy turf to the summit. This was easy walking. The views over to Merrick and Shalloch on Minnoch opened up to the west across the complex Galloway topography and the views to the south were splendid with Loch Dee, Curleywee hill and then the Isle of Man a faint outline on the horizon. It was a bit of a promenade from here heading south over the three hills that form the Rhinns of Kells. I changed into shorts as the morning heat soared and ambled down the long slope from Corserine. I had previously taken part in two Mountain marathons here in 1976 and 1996 and it had rained continuously. Maybe this was the reason why I not returned for 20 years but today compensated for the rigours of the past.

Millfire and Milldown are gentle summits involving little climbing. There is a steeper and longer slope up to the final Donald of Meikle Millyea. The guide book had mentioned that the higher top was not at the trig point according to Harvey Maps but was 400 metres to the south-west. With time on my side, I trekked over and sure enough, it was 5 metres higher according to my altimeter. The descent from Meikle Millyea is to the northeast is down more rocky terrain but with stunning views into the crystal clear waters of Loch Dungeon. I was too intent on keeping to the edge of the ridge enjoying the views into the corrie to notice that I had deviated from the path and the crags below prevented any further progress. I had to turn south to refind the path to the edge of the forestry plantation. Again I was careful to take the correct turnings and it was an easy descent down Professor Hans Helberg Road to the car park. It was just past noon and I was back at the cottage before 1pm. I could get used to these shorter walks.