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; the day before, I had just landed a significant new job, so I was buzzing with energy. I had always intended to repeat the walk, and with a good weekend approaching, I arranged to head to Cannich in Glen Affric with two of my most regular walking partners, John and Mark, as well as Gregor. 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 a 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 a B&B in a hotel, and 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 a couple of litres of water. I felt like a 13-year-old horse in the Grand National, unfairly handicapped by my race form of younger years. 

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. In the process of packing, I had left my camera in the car. I realised within 20 minutes of starting, but it would take 40 minutes to retrieve it, and the day was long; I decided against going back. 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, with Mark following him; they had three more hills planned than John and me. We were walking well within ourselves and passed the two other walkers on the route. I encouraged Mark and Gregor to set off on the next leg so they could complete the three extra munros, including the impressive 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 our age, had completed a round of munros at the age of 19 in 1968 and looked to be clad in the same gear, and was carrying a classic Karrimor Joe Brown rucksack that I had owned in my climbing days. He was helping his younger companion, who was halfway through a round; they asked me to take a photo of them. A young couple had also 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's Keith, isn't it? It was Jenny, daughter of Alan, an old friend and occasional walking companion.

Jenny had climbed half a dozen munros with us in the past and been at two of my munro compleations and 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 she was guiding her new husband, Seb, up his third and fourth munros. We had an animated 15-minute 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 school to university, 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 hugely enjoyable walk over four tops towards the massive looming peak of Carn Eighe. The afternoon was very warm, the ground was dry; 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, we 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 60 litre pack is not someone you meet every day on the munros, 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; 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 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 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 through several sections of boulders, but 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 directly from Loch Mullardoch, but 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 campsite that 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, where 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, we decided to drop down 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 my tent by a rare flat grassy site en route. As we arrived at the agreed camp location, 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 feasted on 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 Atko tent. Day 1 had been a hard jaunt in the heat, but utterly memorable.