KYQ4

Sunday, 8 November 2020

Cairnwell

Carn Aosda summit towards Carn a' Gheoidh

Route from Ski Centre

Saturday, 7 November 2020

Ascent: 685 metres

Distance: 13 kilometres

Time: 3 hours 4 minutes

Carn Aosda 915m 31mins

Carn a' Gheoidh 975m 1hr 32mins

Carn nan Sac 920m 1hr 51mins

Cairnwell 933m 2hrs 27mins

I wanted a day in the sun, not an easy fix in Scotland in November. Perusing the Met Office forecasts suggested that the Cairngorms might be the answer. The three Munros to the west of the Glenshee ski centre are the nearest with a quick ascent and a fine walk out to Carn a' Gheoidh, compensating for the vandalism perpetrated on the summit of Cairnwell by the ski operators who had scarred the hill with numerous tracks, cables, telephone masts, huts and other debris.

I left at 8:30 am and, after driving through foggy roads as far as Perth, the sun appeared. The A93 to Glenshee was spectacular in its autumn colours, and I made it to Glenshee by 10:15 am. There were already 70 or so cars parked; no time was wasted before heading across the road, past the cafe and ski resort paraphernalia and up the track towards Carn Aosda. I have usually climbed these hills clockwise so that I could drop back to the road from Carn Aosda and climb the four Munros to the east in the afternoon. I made good time to the summit, taking the direct steep path alongside the ski tow. A couple of young construction workers from Elgin had caught me and asked for directions to the summit. I was a bit pissed to be passed by novices, but I am the wrong side of 70. I followed them closely on the final stretch to the cairn. Visibility was perfect, the Cairngorms, Lochnagar and dozens of other hills were etched on the skyline below the cobalt blue canopy. The summit of Carn Aosda, like the two other Munros today, was capped by sparkling quartzite; on days like this, it brightens your outlook.

There is a broad track across to the Cairnwell, but above Loch Vrotachan, you can cut below the track to the Cairnwell to reach Creag a' Choire Dhirich. I had caught up with the Elgin pair, and we walked together to Carn a' Gheoidh. They were relatively new to hill walking, having started during the lockdown and seemed happy for me to take the lead and undercut the top, Carn nan Sac, on the way out. It is almost 5 kilometres from Carn Aosda, and it had taken less than an hour. It was still before noon, so I spent twenty minutes eating some lunch whilst talking to my companions and then taking photos after they left for the Cairnwell. It seemed a good way of enjoying a rare day on the hills. Another dozen walkers had arrived, and everyone seemed to have the same idea, a long, relaxing lunch break sitting on a Scottish summit, an unusual treat at any time of the year.

The sun was shining and the weather was sweet, so it made me want to move on. I diverted over the adjacent top, Carn nan Sac, on the return and then followed the fine ridge back to the Cairnwell track. There were lots of walkers about as we wallowed in the post-COVID freedom. At the summit of Cairnwell, I sat down amidst all the clutter and chunks of quartzite to finish my food and take a drink in the warm sun. A mother and her 9-year-old son arrived, and we fell into conversation. She had used lockdown to get into walking, and today was their first venture up a couple of Munros. She had lost 2 stones and said it had been a revelation to feel so much fitter. Her son became animated when I described some of the wildlife that he could see on the hills, and even seemed intrigued at the thought of 282 Munros. I hope so. The number of walkers today and on other trips since the end of lockdown suggests that there will be a new cohort of hillwalkers inspired by the freedom and escape that the mountains have given them. I reflected back to when I started more serious hillwalking in the 1980s. I had always enjoyed being in the hills since a school trip to the Lake District as an eleven-year-old, and I had climbed 25 or so Munros with lots of repeats. I was offered a ticket for a Cup Final match at Hampden but refused to go hill walking instead. I realised that I was hooked. I have been to very few football matches since then; spectating at sports events never has the appeal or satisfaction of competing or participating in an activity.

I found a lesser-used path down one of the pistes and was down by 2pm, despite breaks on two of the summits. The roads were quiet on the return, apart from the usual traffic delays in Perth and then back into the fog on the A9. I was home an hour and a half ahead of my expected time, again highly unusual. To cap a perfect day on the hills, as I arrived home, news broke that Joe Biden had been declared President-elect. It called for a very large G&T to quench the thirst and celebrate the end of Trump, the great malign disruptor. It has been the best news of 2020 and will relieve anxiety around the world about so many issues, especially climate change, human rights and respecting international agreements and institutions like the United Nations.

Carn Aosda

Carn a' Gheodh from Carn Aosda

Lochnagar to Carn a' Claise

Carn a'Gheoidh summit looking south-west

Glas Tulaichean and Beinn a' Ghlo

Cairnwell from Carn nan Sac

Looking north to Carn Aosda

The Cairngorms - Ben Macdui in centre

Cairnwell summit

Cairnwell clutter

Snow machines

Wednesday, 4 November 2020

Ben A'an

Ben A'an and Loch Katrine

Ben A'an is undoubtedly one of the best viewpoints in Scotland with its pointed rock summit overlooking Loch Katrine providing a spectacular viewpoint for the Southern Highlands. It is easily accessible from the central belt and only a 350-metre climb up a steep but well-made path constructed about six years ago. It had been a regular jaunt when our children were young, although our six-month-old was probably too cold to appreciate it during her first Christmas. As the children grew up, it was one of the local hills and ideal for expending some of their energy at weekends and during holidays.

Since the new path was constructed I have not climbed the hill; its popularity, car parking charges and reports of bike thefts act as a deterrent. Aileen and I had already had three trips up Lime Craig this week as part of coping with the latest lockdown. It seemed that the time was ripe to revisit Ben A'an for the first time in several years. It was a clear autumn day and we were walking by 9:00am, there were already a dozen cars in the car park and the early walkers were coming down.

The path is fiercely steep at the start but the dense coniferous forest has been felled and the rocks that have been carefully levered into the uncompromising slopes provide a veritable staircase from Loch Achray. It curves westwards and crosses a wooden bridge before the gradient slackens. The old path meandered through the dark canopy but it now takes a more direct route through more natural open woodland. The birch and stunted oak trees help to camouflage the worst of the felling operations. The final 150 metres of climbing is the steepest part of the climb with a rock girt path twisting its way up to a small level platform. Then just the scramble to the rocky peaky McPeak.

Although the sun had not broken through we were transfixed by the views as we scrambled over and around the peaks. A young couple from Glasgow arrived with two dogs and gawped in wonder at the surroundings. They had moved to Glasgow from the home counties and could not believe the views, they felt privileged to be so close to the great outdoors. They asked what other nearby outings could we recommend and we gave them half a dozen other nearby hills before starting the descent. There were forty or so walkers on the ascent and the car park was full. We drove home for morning coffee with our lifetime of fond memories of family days on Ben A'an rekindled.

Start of the path from Loch Achray

Burn from the wooden bridge

Ben A'an

Autumn gold and silver birch

Summit and Loch Katrine

Christmas 1980

Acclimatising for all that future skiing

Tuesday, 27 October 2020

2020 Vision from Lochcarron

2020 Vision on arrival

It was never supposed to be like this. 2020 is about having a clear vision of the future. Instead, we are languishing in a world where we are locked down, the economy is in tatters, there have been 65,000 excess deaths in the UK, we have the worst government in my lifetime, Brexit isn't done, the USA has been run into the oil sands of despair by a megalomaniac, asylum seekers are drowning as they seek safety and the younger generation are facing a lifetime of uncertainty as well as personal and national debts.

Everyone has a story to tell about how their lives have been changed by loneliness, financial ruin, mental health problems, family losses, sometimes suffused by the friendliness and support of neighbours and strangers. We have been luckier than most with space in the house and garden, access to the countryside, and the financial security and stability of pensions. We have lived frugally having changed to a vegetarian diet a year ago when our son came to stay for a few months whilst attempting to buy a new flat. We had a weekly grocery delivery during the early months of lockdown and only rarely ventured out to the shops or pharmacy. Even hill walking, the most isolated of activities, was banned from March until July, the best months of the year.

Normally we travel to London seven or eight times a year to see our daughters and grandchildren, we have not been since last December. We usually travel for a couple of weeks in the Ardeche in France, an area that we have visited almost every year since 2007 to stay at a chambres d'hotes whose owners have become good friends. We spend a week in the Lake District as we have done every year since 1984 where we catch up with family and friends. I usually make 20 or so trips to the Scottish mountains to exercise and enjoy the rigours of hard days to keep me ticking over. We try to have a city break to somewhere in Europe and every few years we book a trip to a more distant place. We were due one this year as we have spent the last few years building and moving house.

None of these things has happened this year, so when we heard that my brother's house in Lochcarron was available following a cancellation in October, we seized the week, packed enough provisions for a month and headed into the rain-washed West Highlands. It was a treat despite the October rain fest. Lochcarron also gave us chance to reflect on the strange happenings of 2020, a sabbatical bereft of freedoms.

I had intended to tackle some of the difficult to reach Corbetts nearby and took my bike to help. The first full day on Sunday was to be dull but mainly dry so I packed to go to Kililan and cycle the Glen Elchaig to Iron Lodge from where I could climb Aonach Buidhe. It was not to be, a mouse had chewed through a water pipe in the attic with the resulting water dripping through two floors. The morning was spent mopping, finding the source of the damage and awaiting the plumber who had miraculously sorted the problem by lunchtime.

We spent the afternoon in Plockton, making a complete circuit of the attractive coastal village that was awash with lots of visitors during the October school holidays. Monday was a complete washout so after a walk near Balmacara and topping up provisions in Kyle of Lochalsh it was back to the house for some reading time.

Gregor had arrived on Tuesday so we went to Shieldaig for a walk on the wild side in the rain to Bad Calida the peninsula that marks the entry to Upper Loch Torridon. It is one of our favourite short walks and the highlight was watching an otter as we returned to Shieldaig. The rains stopped at lunchtime and I grabbed the chance to drive up to Cluanie to cycle and walk up Beinn Loinne. Wednesday was very wet so we went to Glenelg and after a light lunch in the hotel we visited Sandaig where Gavin Maxwell had lived with otters at Cambusfearna. On the return we drove up Gleann Beag to visit the two Brochs, Dun Telve and Dun Troddan. Gregor returned via a 12 kilometre hill run crossing a swollen river and suffering more heavy rain before we collected him in Glen More.

Plockton on a wet Sunday

Loch Carron towards Duncraig Castle

Balmacara walk

Otter bay, Shieldaig

Shieldaig from the north

Maol Chean-dearg and An Ruadh Stac across Loch Damh

Cambusfearna, Sandaig

Dun Telve, Gleann Beag

Dun Troddan

Thurday and Friday gave us days for a bit of Munro bashing and a magical drive to Applecross and Shieldaig that are described in other posts. Our return home on Saturday was in heavy rain but we were back for 1pm, refreshed and deep cleansed by the bracing conditions of the West Highlands. Now we await the next lockdown.

2020 Vision on departure

Homeward Bound

Sunday, 25 October 2020

Applecross to Torridon

Graffitied road sign to Applecross

Friday, 23 October 2020

After a week of rain-drenched days, we decided to go to Applecross. The Met Office forecast suggested there would be some sunny periods between the showers, and the visibility would be good. Gregor had also decided to run from Loch Kishorn to Bealach na Ba, a 10-kilometre run up the highest public road in Britain, finishing at 626 metres or 2053 feet in imperial measure.

The road has become a shrine for motorists, motorcyclists and nowadays convoys of camper vans. The sign at the start of the road is testimony to the craven desires of these tourists attracted by the North Coast 500 publicity. Cyclists and runners are different; they just want the buzz of secreting some endorphins and any graffiti is channelled through Strava. Gregor had checked the fastest time and although 44 minutes seemed about the time a camper van would achieve, he decided to make it his target.

As we approached the start of the run at the junction of the road with the A896, dark clouds were skimming across from Skye, he decided to forsake the flimsy rain jacket and after a short warm-up, he started at 11:33 am. We drove on, stopping a couple of times for photos and arriving at the high point of the bealach just before noon. There had been a short shower but it had cleared and the views from the viewpoint were excellent.

We had time to explore the various cairns and were pleasantly surprised when Gregor appeared at the top section in 44 minutes making the viewpoint and finish for the Strava route in just over 46 minutes, the second-fastest time ever, and having gained crowns (fastest times) on the lower part of the route. He was ecstatic and after pausing for some photographs and to take in the grandeur of the scenery for ten minutes, he began to run the descent to Applecross as his 'warm down'.

We picked him up after another 4 miles and drove down to the Applecross Hotel, which was welcoming and well-prepared to provide a socially distanced lunch. Another shower passed through and when we emerged at 2pm we decided to take the coastal road to Shieldaig. We were not alone, there was a steady stream of visitors in Morgans, Aston Martins, and Alfa Romeo sports cars as well as a Highland Council Lorry all pushing us along as we tried to take in the spectacular scenery with views of Raasay, Rona and Skye. We passed the place, Uamh Bheag, where the Prime Minister, Boris Johnson took his famous summer holiday, erecting his tent in a neighbouring croft. The road was patrolled by Highland cattle and maintained by grazing sheep.

I have a particular affection for the road having spent a week in the summer of 1970 as a student carrying out a traffic survey for Ross and Cromarty County Council. They were planning to extend the coastal road from Shieldaig, which terminated at Kenmore, a further 18 miles to Applecross but they needed some data for the funding claim. Our remit was to stop every vehicle heading south on the A896 leaving Shieldaig to establish whether they were heading for Applecross or Kenmore. We were camped at the municipal campsite at the north end of Shieldaig, which in those days was dotted with small tents of hikers and cyclists with the odd group of French visitors in their 2CVs. Aileen had first visited Shielding with one of these French Groups.

The road was built in two sections over the following five years and the number of new dwellings along the route is an endorsement of the economic benefits that have accrued. The best was yet to come as we began the last section of the road overlooking Loch Torridon and then Loch Shieldaig. As we stopped by Rhuroin, one of Aileen's favourite viewpoints, the dark clouds were cast over Torridon but clear blue skies were creeping in and a magnificent rainbow made a fleeting appearance over Shieldaig island.

The timing had been perfect and we thought we had extracted every glorious view on this typical west coast day. Realising that our luck was in we decided to head north from Shieldaig towards the Upper Loch Torridon viewpoint. Just as we arrived, the great Torridonian mountains slipped their cloud cover. Beinn Alligin and Liathach beamed us their happy sides and in the middle stood Beinn Dearg, the highest Corbett in Scotland at 2999 feet. Hopefully, it will be my last Corbett during a visit sometime next year. We drove back to Lochcarron having salvaged a wonderful day despite the dire predictions from the Met Office.