Sgurr Alasdair

Sgurr Alasdair from Sgurr nan Eag

Thursday, 29 June 2018

Ascent:        982 metres
Distance:     9 kilometres
Time:           4 hours 56 minutes

Sgurr Alasdair     992m     2 hrs 32mins

After yesterday, I had to revise my plans. John's leg would not allow him to walk and he would have to await my return. I had intended to climb what I had hoped would be my the last three munros on Skye: Sgurr na Banachdich, Sgurr a' Ghreadaidh and Sgurr a' Mhadaidh. They are not as difficult as many of the Skye peaks and on previous experience, they could be climbed in 6 or 7 hours. Or I could climb Sgurr Alasdair from Coire Lagan via the notorious stone shoot. It would be possible within 6 hours and then we could begin the long drive home. I chose the latter knowing that the heat would be just as intense as yesterday. In fact, it was the hottest day since records began in Scotland and 31°C by mid-afternoon.

I had packed my tent and equipment into the car before setting out and left John at the campsite. It was 8am before I began the trek up to Coire Lagan. Despite the 12 hour day yesterday and the heat, I was walking well and arrived at the Coire in less than an hour and a half. The east face of the Coire including the 400 metre stone shoot to Sgurr Alasdair was still in shadow, which made for easier conditions.

I had been advised by a walker who had been up yesterday to strike up by a path just below the rock face to the south. It was not immediately apparent but after climbing 50 metres on the loose scree I traversed across to find some more solid ground. It was still rough going but years of experience tells me there is only one way to get up slopes like this and it is head down and keep going. A few minutes after I started the ascent a couple of climbers began to follow my route, they were steaming up with youth on their side. It was helpful because I rallied and we arrived together at the platform that sits between Sgurr Alasdair and its adjacent top, Sgurr Thearlaich. We climbed to the summit up a couple of steep pitches that were slightly exposed but in the company of a couple of Marines, there was no time to hesitate on the ascent.

We sat on perhaps the finest viewpoint in the UK. The whole of the Skye ridge around us, the small isles and Rum to the south and not a breeze to disturb the Mediterranean heat. I had made a good choice. We chatted for 15 minutes as we absorbed the surroundings and rehydrated. They were to climb the adjoining top of Sgurr Thearlaich but I began the long descent of the stone shoot. It is difficult to decide whether the ascent or descent is more difficult. It is littered with rocks of varying sizes and difficult to establish a rhythm as you could forty years ago when it was a delight to skate down the scree.

It took half an hour to get to the Coire where I stopped to fill up on water and remove stones from my shoes. There were several groups sunbathing by the lochan, which was entrancing in the perfect light. The heat was overbearing so I kept a steady pace on the descent and made the campsite in less than 5 hours, it was not yet 1pm. After a wash, change and another fill of water, we began the journey home as the temperature reached 31°C.

I struggled to keep awake on the drive back in the heat and we stopped for a coffee at the Cluanie Inn. We were served by two extremely surly and rude female staff and I tried to find the manager to complain about the service. The Cluanie Inn has always been a favourite place for a break and it was sad to see the drop in standards. It was still 29°C at 6pm as we reached Crianlarich where I dropped John who had parked his car there on the way up to Skye. The traffic was light along Loch Lomondside despite it being the beginning of the Scottish school holidays. Glasgow was baking and the bars had spilled their customers and tables onto the pavements. It had a real continental feel but with attitude as Glaswegians quenched their thirsts as only they can.

The path to Coire Lagan

Skye Ridge north from Sgurr Alasdair

Climbers on Sgurr Thearlaich from Sgurr Alasdair

Sgurr Dubh and Sgurr nan Eag from Sgurr Alasdair

Coire Lagan

Sgurr nan Eag and Sgurr Dubh Mor

Sgurr Dubh and Sgurr nan Eag from Sgurr Alasdair

Wednesday, 27 June 2018

Ascent:         1479 metres
Distance:      15 kilometres
Time:            12 hours 5 minutes

Sgurr nan Eag                        926m    3hrs 51mins
Sgurr Dubh na Da Bheinn     935m    5hrs 48mins
Sgurr Dubh Mor                     944m   6hrs 32mins


Returning from France, we were greeted by a rare Scottish heatwave. The temperatures at Edinburgh airport were higher than they had been in the south of France. Moreover, the high pressure was to hover all week and there would be dawn to dusk sunshine. I called John and we agreed to make a two-day visit to Skye to try and climb the six remaining Munros on the ridge and leave myself just Tarmachan to complete my fifth round. We set off on Tuesday afternoon, I picked up John at Crianlarich and we made the Glen Brittle campsite by 6pm.

It was to be my eighth visit to the campsite and never had it looked better. It was voted campsite of the year and now boasts a cafe to augment the intrinsic qualities of mountainscapes, a beach and wild weather. Much of the investment by the parsimonious Dunvagen Castle estate is a response to the cavalcade of motorhomes that have invaded Skye in recent years. They clog the roads, take the stances nearest to the facilities and, according to the warden, demand the internet and ask questions like "where can I go for a walk?" They sit outside with barbecues, drinking wine, in armchairs with bottle holders thinking that they are on holiday. The humble climbers/ cyclists/walkers gravitate to the edges of the site where their tents are away from the trappings of the Tourist Board's idea of tourism, a close cousin of rampant consumerism. Sustainable it isn't.

The next morning we began to walk at 7:45am, taking the path across the moorland to Coire Ghrunnda, host to one of Scotland's finest lochans enveloped between massive pillows of Gabbro. After a long walk on a path across the dried out bog and grassland, and as we began to ascend to the coire, we passed two deer and their calves. The Does did not move away but lay in the morning sun allowing the calves to sway about as they learnt to walk. There is quite a bit a scrambling over the gabbro outcrops in the climb to the lochan that sits at 650 metres above sea level. We were the first walkers to arrive, although being so remote and a two and a half hour walk from the campsite means there are seldom many visitors.

We had some refreshments, the temperature was already in the mid-twenties, and reflected that this may be the last time we are privileged to witness its stark beauty. Neither of us is contemplating another round of munros and the days of 10 or 12-hour walks are probably numbered. We circled the lochan anticlockwise and found the steep rocky path that meanders through the crags to Sgurr nan Eag. The views back to the Cuillins were stunning with Sgurr Alasdair, our third objective of the day tantalising us with its ferociously steep slopes. The ridge out to the summit of Sgurr nan Eag is a gentle scramble over rough rocks and already my fingerprints were wearing thin. A few weeks ago on Sgurr nan Gillean, my thumbprint was erased and would no longer open my phone for the best part of a fortnight after its brush with gabbro.

In the searing heat, we were pacing ourselves and spent half an hour on the summit having an early lunch and beginning to realise that our water supplies would not last. We retraced the route back over the ridge and began the ascent to Sgurr Dubh na Da Bheinn, it was a lot tougher than we remembered from previous visits. That was probably a combination of the heat and our age. The climb up to the top is not hard but slowed by the enjoyable scrambling involved. Far more difficult is the climb to the adjoining Munro, Sgurr Dubh. The jumble of crags means that route finding is tricky and there are several paths that lead nowhere. It is a mountain version of Hampton Court Maze but with more severe consequences. We eventually figured it out and climbed two or three short pitches to reach the cairn. We returned with a minimum of delay to collect our rucksacks from Da Bheinn.

And now for the final leg, a descent to the Thearlaich-Dubh gap and then a traverse beneath the massive cliffs of Sgurr Alasdair to reach the bealach between Sguur Sgumain and Sgurr Alasdair. We had been this way twice before and John had had a tumble coming down Alasdair near the bad step twenty five years ago during our first visit. We reached the knife-edged ridge between the two mountains and climbed 20 metres or so before we reached an overhanging wall of 7 metres or the alternative of a steep chimney. We couldn't recall climbing either before and spent half an hour looking for alternative routes. There were no other climbers about and with considerable exasperation we concluded that it was not possible to climb without some protection and we had no ropes or belay equipment with us.

We descended down the blocks of scree to Coire Ghrunnda feeling deflated, dehydrated and tired from the long day in the heat. We reached a burn gurgling with cold mountain water and gorged ourselves before beginning the long tramp back to Glen Brittle. John's knee was giving him some pain, it has always been likely to erupt on long walks on steep terrain. I had not realised how much it slowed him and disappeared off down the rocky path with several walls of rock to climb down and then the long 4 kilometres of the path back to the campsite. I passed the two Does with their calves that we had seen on the ascent. One of the calves came over on unsteady legs to have a look at me.

I reached the campsite just before 8pm and drank a litre of water on getting back to the tent. When John limped in, I set off to the Old Inn at Carbost for a pint and some food. The Fairy Pools were still busy at 8:30pm, they are "one of the most magical places in Scotland" according to the wordsmiths at the Tourist Board. A model was walking down to the pools in a wedding dress for a photo shoot. I hope they manage to photoshop out all the motorhomes that litter the road above the Fairy Pools.

Doe and Calf

Climbing the Gabbro boulders to Coire Ghrunnda

At Coir Ghrunnda

John above the Coire Ghrunnda lochan

Coire Ghrunnda and Sgurr Alasdair from Sgurr nan Eag

Sgurr Dubh summit

Sgurr Dubh Mor, a route finding maze

Sgurr nan Eag from Sgurr Alasdair/Sgumain bealach

Inaccessible Pinnacle from Sgurr Alasdair

Coir Ghrunnda

Deer Calf

Ardeche

Cherry time

Our eighth trip to the Ardeche on the Provence/Languedoc border was primarily to relax after the rigours of the recent house move. It was made less so when my passport went missing during the move. I presume it is somewhere in a box we put into storage. The national passport office was adamant that I couldn't get a replacement passport with only 5 days notice until our flight but they would guarantee one in 8 days if I paid the express fee for a replacement passport. They seemed blind to the illogicality of this. It is just another example of a centralised government agency ramping up its charges to meet government income targets.

I ignored the advice and tramped along to the local passport office in Glasgow. They were immediately helpful and let me use their phone to get the UK office to set up an interview in the Glasgow office later in the afternoon. The Glasgow office had created an vacant interview slot for me and explained what I would need to do in the two hours before the interview. It included a new passport photo and finding a friend to sign it.  They then had the new passport printed for the next day. The staff in the Glasgow office showed what good customer care is all about and proved once again that local is best.

We arrived in Beziers on a Sunday evening and unlike Scotland, which was baking in the summer heat, we were treated to three days of cool wet weather. It didn't matter, we had a gite to ourselves, we picked and ate cherries, walked and read books. The environment around the accommodation is glorious with walks through lavender fields, cherry and peach orchards, almond groves, vineyards and through native oak forests replete with truffles and wild boar. Our genial hosts held an aperitif evening with other guests, and lent me a bike, I went runs, we visited local towns and villages and towards the end of the week we were able to enjoy time in the pool that we had to ourselves.

We visited Nimes, the Cevennes National Park, the Rhone valley, the Ardeche gorge, the Ceze river and its villages and continued to eat cherries and admire the lavender fields. I even managed to acquire some Topiary skills as I shaped one of the Olive trees in the garden for our hosts. We had 10 days of uninterupted sunshine. We were content and so was France with its team sailing through the early stages of the World Cup.

Picking cherries

Le Garn

Lunch

Room with a view

Lavander time

Monclus and the Ceze river

If only the UK could embrace this sentiment

Aigueze above Ardeche river

Ardeche Gorge

Pont d'Arc

Gite

My first attempt at some Topiary with an Olive tree

Confiture

Local cheeses

Nimes

Nimes arena

Library and Museum by Richard Rodgers

I was invited to go to Nimes as a 14-year-old schoolboy. We were twinned with Nimes and each summer our school had pupil exchanges. At the time the limit of my travels was Ambleside to Llandudno and Wales was about as foreign as you could get. We were limited by bedroom space at home so an exchange visit was a non-starter. I presume that the link between Nimes and Preston was based on cotton. King cotton was prevalent in Preston with forty or so cotton mills producing quality products and Nimes gave the world denim.

The nearest I came to the Nimes pupils was when a dance was held for the visiting teenagers and I helped my father run an outdoor disco for them. He had been a DJ from the 1950's but was struggling to keep abreast of the new music of the 1960's. I used to help him set up equipment and demonstrate new fads like the hula hoop or twist. On this night I was told to play the records as his selections were not to the taste of the young French pupils. I enjoyed the chance to play Little Eva, the Crystals, Beatles, Drifters and Stones and by the end of the night I wished that I could go to Nimes to learn to jive with the energy and enthisiasm of the French.

Yesterday we finally made it to Nimes, a 90-kilometre journey from our summer hideaway in the Ardeche. What a revelation, after negotiating the usual ring of ugly and busy commercial developments that envelope all French towns, we entered the historic centre. From its magnificent amphitheatre or arena, as it is now termed, to the white limestone streets it is a treat. Pedestrianised with squares to relax, modern shops, spotlessly clean and exhibiting a municipal pride that includes its gendarmes on bikes and a wide range of museums. Preston, it ain't. We spent a couple of hours in the arena, had a lazy lunch in a square, saw films of the Roman capture of Gaul and just pottered about as you do in wonderful urban environments.

I just wish that I had discovered this place fifty odd years ago, I might even have been inspired to speak French, something I regret every time we indulge ourselves in this most hospitable and glorious country.

Sgurr nan Gillean

Sgurr nan Gillean, Am Basteir and Bruach na Frithe from Sligachan

Wednesday 6 June 2018

Ascent:     1030 metres

Distance:  12 kilometres

Time:        5 hours 28 minutes

Sgurr nan Gillean      985m     3 hrs 12 mins

The good weather was now in its third week and after the house move of last week, I was hankering for a day in the hills. I could only manage one day so decided to catch an early morning bus from Glasgow to Sligachan on Skye, climb Sgurr nan Gillean and return the following morning on the early bus. It would be less stressful and cheaper than taking the car on the chocked roads to Skye.

I was not so sure as I left the flat at 6:20am to walk a couple of miles to the bus station. Fortunately, Citylink buses are comfortable and the 915 service to Uig was fairly empty for the journey north. It made excellent time until we hit roadworks north of Fort William and then a road closure to allow some gigantic wind turbine columns to be transported from Kyle of Lochalsh to the ever-expanding wind farm above Glen Morriston. We arrived 15 minutes late at the Sligachan Hotel from where I decided to walk over to the nearby campsite, pitch my tent and deposit my sleeping bag to lighten the rucksack. Although the day was overcast, it was warm and humid as I filled my water bottle and began the walk at 2:15pm. The midges would certainly be biting tonight.

I crossed the wooden footbridge and heading for the pyramidal-like Sgurr nan Gillean. I had usually climbed it along with Bruach na Frithe and Am Basteir approaching via the West Ridge, which is classified as a climb. Today I was to take the so-called 'tourist route' that circles the mountain and climbs via two rocky corries followed by a scramble up the south-east ridge. A pleasant footpath snakes through the rough boggy ground with impossibly clear rock pools and a couple of planks for a bridge over the cascading burn. It makes the first 300 metres of climbing very easy and enjoyable. 

I then received a phone call from the passport office in Glasgow. Yesterday at this time, having lost my passport during the house move, the flights and accommodation in France starting on Saturday were going to have to be abandoned. I had spent most of yesterday trying to get a replacement passport. It had gone missing in the house move and was probably in one of the 90 boxes of our lifetime's possessions that we had put in storage.  The advice from the passport office contact centre in London was that this could not be done, it would take a week if I was prepared to pay the express service fee.  I went along to the friendly Glasgow Paasport Office, they said they would try to sort it before the weekend. The phone call from Glasgow was to tell me that they had sorted it. "Your passport will be ready tomorrow, could I collect it after 2pm?" You bet, I'll be on the bus back from Skye first thing in the morning. It was a magic moment and Sgurr nan Gillean became even more alluring.

Thereafter, the path drops to Coire Riabhach and there is a 200-metre climb up a scree path to a flatter section before the rock-enclosed hanging corrie from where the path climbs up some scree. I took a route to the left of the corrie that involved some easy scrambling. It is a climb of 170 metres to reach a flatter bowl of rock-strewn debris. There are several routes scored into the rock by broken scree paths that look grey against the black gabbro. I took a direct line for the ridge and when I reached the rock wall veered to the left to find the path that climbs along the apex of the ridge. The views of the Skye ridge are suddenly revealed, a sinuous wall of black rock cliffs as the sun was behind them at 5pm. The path provides a route through rock bands that are fairly easy scrambles at first. They ramp up for the final 70 metres of climbing and concentration is needed to find the route with the best traction up the basalt dykes that have been worn smooth. 

A party of 8 climbers were descending down some steep gabbro blocks from the summit, some were wearing midge nets under their climbing helmets. I asked how they had reached the summit and they replied that they had ascended via the West Ridge and that it was a lot easier than the descent that they were now making. I stepped aside to let them pass and then climbed to the summit via a series of short gullies before reaching a precarious ledge with a slab that bridged over to the summit. The cairn had been flattened. Normally I would spend twenty minutes rebuilding a cairn but the midges were biting and I was slightly apprehensive about the descent, it was 5:20pm and I had hoped to be down by 7:30 for my first meal of the day.

I was all alone on the summit as I began the descent, teetering along the ledge, less footsure than usual as I down climbed  the steep blocks of gabbro. I understood why the earlier parties had left their rucksacks at the bottom of the climb to the summit. I followed the ridge down to 800 metres until I found a scree path to take me to the top of the corrie. I met an Irishman who was making a circuit of the Loch Coruisk summits, he had managed seven munros during a 14 hour day so far. 

The walkout was notable for the sun emerging as the clouds dissipated for the evening, there were glorious views of Marsco and Bla Bheinn. Sligachan was calling and the prospect of a pint and some food drove me down at an ever-increasing pace. I had stopped a few times on the ascent to speak to other walkers, they had all found the climb tricky but exhilarating and I tended to agree. I prefer the route up the West Ridge although there are a couple of places where a rope is a useful aid. I arrived at the hotel by 7:30pm and went to the bar to check out the range of beers, I was challenged by a German customer as he thought I was queue jumping. I was delighted to find an Orkney Brewery Corncrake Ale on sale and together with some fresh haddock, it was the perfect end of a strangely satisfying day. 

I sauntered over to the campsite for a shower, it was fairly full with about ten Ford Pumas carrying a group of German tourists on a tour of Scotland. The German who had spoken to me abruptly in the hotel admired my midge net as I lifted it to clean my teeth and splash my face in the toilet block. The midges were biting ferociously in the still, warm evening sun. I told him that they were more popular than beer and that I had had to queue for it but that a wet towel was just as effective. Sleep came easy and the next morning I managed to sneak into the hotel and persuade the staff to get me a coffee before opening time. I was on the bus by 7:30am, home at the Glasgow flat by lunchtime and holding my new passport by 3pm. 

Pair of Ptarmigan just below the summit

The summit looking south-west

The summit ledge

Bla Bheinn from the south-east ridge

Hanging corrie leading to the south-east ridge

Marsco and Bla Bheinn from the Corrie

The two plank bridge

Marsco

Final Hurrah

Home for 30 years

After 30 years we moved out of the family home. It was a wrench as we were enjoying the best weather for years as we filled the boxes and sent our belongings to storage, moved stuff to our temporary home and disposed of paraphernalia to the charity shops and recycling centres. We will be enjoying metropolitan life for a few months. Hopefully, all the energy used to maintain the the garden will be deployed for some decent hill walking starting with a trip to Skye tomorrow to climb Sgurr nan Gillean, one of my favourite mountains.

Patio

Back Garden

East elevation

Craig Mor 

Solar Panels and the Rhododendrons

Never missed a beat providing hot water, cooking and warmth

The final load