Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

In light of the weather forecast, a trip to Scotland last weekend might have seemed an odd choice to make. After all, one other occasion where I set off north in search of consistent improvement over the course of a day had me arriving a day too early. However, I wasn’t so fussy and I set off regardless with the options of exploring around Loch Ericht near Dalwhinnie or reprise a part of the West Highland Way that I haven’t hiked for a number of years now.

In the event, I plumped for the latter and arrived at a rainy roadside at the head of Glen Coe. Buachaille Etive Mor was shrouded in low cloud and it might have been sensible to consider adjourning to the King’s House Hotel and await the next bus north for a day of travelling in place of the planned walk. Duly equipped, I faced the dampness and all it took for things to dry out was the length of time that it takes to get from the A82 to the hotel along the West Highland Way. This change of affairs certainly put paid to any fears of there being a long wet walk ahead of me.

Soon enough, the track of the WHW started to attract journeying types like myself and others doing the entire thing. With a well frequented track such as this, it is too easy to get your normal walking rhythm disturbed by the incompatible pace at which others are going. Though there were showers, the clearance continued as I shortened both the distance to Kinlochleven and the amount of time that I was to spend shadowing the A82. Thankfully, the road wasn’t too busy and road noise was none too intrusive. Even with the prospect of being passed by slowcoaches, I still took my chances to look across the glen to savour whatever brightness happened to spotlight the slopes. Making decent headway across the slopes of Beinn a’ Chrualaiste ensured that Altnafeadh was reached soon enough.

After a short break, I took to the track up the Devil’s Staircase. Having passed the way once before, I knew that this was going to be hard leg work. That time, I was going the other way on a day that was cloudy but dry if reluctant to leave the sun out, a marked contrast to a sunny afternoon and evening spent in Glen Nevis the previous day. The descent down the Devil’s Staircase lingered in my memory but I had forgotten the ardour of the ascent from Kinlochleven and how long it took; that was something that I was set to discover later. Going at things in the opposite way to everyone else and during the afternoon too almost guaranteed that my hike was my own and without intrusion from others. It was so different last Saturday with a human train trailing down the steep slope and with me at or near its head. Stops were in order on the ascent and I did get passed near the top by someone carrying no pack. My having one with all my weekend bits and bobs contained therein meant that I was unable to offer much of a contest anyway so I was far from bothered.

A well earned break was taken where the gradient levelled off on the bealach between Beinn Bheag and Stob Mhic Mhartuin. Letting the hoards continue on their way, I noted the more friendly slopes round about me and got to picking up a clear track, boggy in parts, as I surmounted the lesser visited 616 m high summit of Beinn Bheag. The reward was good panoramic views subject to low cloud and any rain showers staying away. Finding some shelter from the wind, I set to making sense of what lay about me and slaying any demons that beset me when looking at old photos. Being able to pinpoint where I was became to key to the task; it’s hard to work out what’s in a photo when you are unclear where it was taken. Setting the map with my compass helped again although finding that two maps are needed for the exercise has its drawbacks.

After descending Beinn Bheag to the WHW again, I opted for Stob Mhic Mhartuin in the knowledge that I had time available with Kinlochleven being just a few hours away. My Harvey map showed a track marked leading up to the 707 m high summit, a little surprising since it showed nothing on Beinn Bheag though I suspect that this may be due to Stob Mhic Mhartuin being a possible stepping stone on a traverse of the Aonach Eagach. The slopes beyond Stob Mhic Mhartuin looking amenable but, inviting as they were, Sron a’ Choire Odhar-bhig and its neighbours were left for another time; one with more sun would be ideal for photographic pursuits in an area where they should be splendidly fruitful.

After a saunter about its top, I descended Stob Mhic Mhartuin to recommence my journey to Kinlochleven. The morning rush along the WHW has passed so walking a busy old military road had become a far more relaxing prospect. That is not to say that there were no other folk going the way but the well scattered mix of fellow walkers and runners was a nicer one than feeling surrounded by bunched up groups. The threat of rain had nigh on completely receded but cloudiness reigned unopposed with the occasional insurgency of sunlight. Any glance east revealed sunlit hummocks in the distance, an observation that cannot but cause one to wonder if they were in the right place but I was where I was and enjoying it anyway. In any event, the sun was greater headway as views over Blackwater Reservoir and Meall Bad a’ Bheithe opened out for fuller inspection.

Progress towards Kinlocheleven was good but not sufficient to make the idea of catching the 15:40 bus to Fort William a reality. Saying that, I was well in time for the 16:40 so travel plans remained on course. The final descent into Kinlochleven was steep, steep enough that gambolling along wasn’t an option and especially so with all the twists and turns that are taken. Camera work was slowing things a little too because the sun was winning out over the clouds. In fact, warm sun was the order of things on the final approaches to Kinlochleven. My arrival into the village saw me leave the WHW for a more direct approach around by the Blackwater Hostel. After some time for ablutions and a little shopping, I set to awaiting the bus after what had been a good day out. It remains an area worthy of revisiting so I’ll continue to keep it in mind as a definite possibility; you always want to leave somewhere as scenic as this with a possible reason for a return, if the opportunity should ever offer itself.

The past weekend saw me set off on an incursion into Scotland. My arrival at the road end for the White Corries ski centre was in utterly unpromising conditions: continuous rain and low cloud obscuring the tops. Oddly undeterred, I stuck with my original plan to ply the West Highland Way all of the way to Kinlochleven only to receive continual encouragement from a steady improvement in the weather; it dried up after King’s House Hotel with light showers continuing until the middle of the day and sun coming out from the clouds for a grand evening. From the top of the Devil’s Staircase, I popped up onto Beinn Bheag and Stob Mhic Martuin before carrying on towards Kinlochleven. Those ascents afforded opportunities to disentangle and put names to the various humps and bumps that surrounded me, a matter that has perplexed me every time that I get to looking at photos taken when I was last this way a few years back. Ideas for future hikes have been planted in my mind too so the proverbial ideas shelf continues to be replenished.

Having been forewarned about a sailing event in Fort William, I opted for a night in Inverness instead. Saying that, Fort William didn’t look so overrun while I was there but my plans were set and I sat back to see the sights through the coach windows. A Sunday morning stroll changed my view of Inverness from a less than positive one to a more favourable standpoint. The cause of this change of heart was my discovery of the delights of walking by the River Ness and its islands in bright sunshine. My first visit to Inverness was on a cloudy dreich day prone to dampness, never good conditions to see anywhere, and I popped out to Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness without ever venturing around by the Ness islands in the city itself. In some respects, I am amazed by that omission but it seems that the Great Glen Way isn’t routed that way for nothing. If anything, my time in Inverness on this occasion may have been overly short; after all, I did have a long train journey ahead of me. Even so, the delights of the city displayed themselves so well that they could be translated into the traditional Scottish phrase "Haste Ye Back".

That may well set things in play for a mental distillation session ahead of my now habitual longer summer break. This year, there isn’t a single silver bullet like the Western Isles became last year and foul weather alternatives are in order too, even with the Met Office’s optimism. There’s nothing for it but to lay out all of the possibilities somewhere and assemble something reasonable from them. In the meantime, though, that Lochaber hike commands a longer description so my intention is that one will appear on here in due course.

About this time last year, I was feeling a tad sore after a weekend in Scotland where I was surprised by some of the best weather that I had seen there in a while. It was as if I was taken by surprise and reluctantly left because I was of the opinion, rightly or wrongly, that a certain lack of planning meant that I may not have made the most of it. Looking back on it now, it may not have been as wasted an opportunity as I thought it to be at the time. After all, that Sunday sojourn on Kerrera sharpened my appreciation of island scenery and perhaps inspired the Hebridean island hopping session that occupied me for a week later on in the year.

This year, with various things that have been going on in my life together with a stretch of lacklustre weather, I would have been forgiven for being surprised by the weather yet again, just like last year in fact. Now that I think of it, the weather has behaved similarly on both times. The run up to the same weekend last year would have been no preparation for what eventually arrived either. However, there is an important distinction between the two years: the locations blessed by good weather. Last year, Scotland got it better and had a generally good May with the TGO Challenge seeing more dry sunny days than usual. England did better this time around but it all depended on where you were and when you were there; it turned wet in Cheshire on Monday.

Overall, Cheshire did well with a steadily improving Saturday that coaxed me out on the bike in the evening time after an afternoon shopping expediton. Sunday was even better and I spent my afternoon and evening on a stroll from Leek back home by way of Tittesworth Reservoir and Danebridge. On Monday, I popped up to Cumbria to hike the Cumbria Way from Coniston to Skelwith Bridge before skirting Loughrigg Fell on the way to Ambleside. That was the cause of taking me through a honeypot or two (Tarn Hows comes to mind as a particular fleshpot) but the quieter parts more than made up for this.

One plan did fall by the wayside and that was the idea of following the Derwent Valley Heritage Way north from Baslow until either Grindleford, Hathersage or Bamford; the end point was to depend on progress and the time of the next train home from either of these stations. The plot certainly was fluid but a late bus caused its abandonment on Sunday so it goes onto the ideas shelf for another time. Another route option is to go around by Baslow Edge, Curbar Edge and Froggat Edge, proper hill wandering if you will and a variation of the original theme, but that also still awaits its opportunity and goes beside the DVHW on that proverbial shelf.

All in all, I cannot declare 2009’s Spring Bank Holiday weekend wasted and, anyway, that’s not the way that I feel about it at all. Any period of time that allowed chances for walks and cycles can only have been used well and, as if that were not enough, it has sown the seeds for future excursions too so it has been more than fruitful. Having more good weather than was expected can be a test too because you need to pick where you want to go when the temptation is to go out and gorge yourself; having only so much time has its uses. Trip reports for the walks themselves should follow but there’s the prospect of good weather next weekend so that may cause the postponement of their appearance. Of course, that depends on how things come together and only time will tell on that score.

I don’t know which JH Darren Christie had in mind when he included a link to here among his illustrious list of blogging TGO Challengers. What I do know is that I’d be extremely surprised if it was me and I hope that I haven’t disappointed you with that admission. For one thing, I don’t believe that I’ve ever mentioned the Challenge on here before so I suspect that the link came (many thanks, anyway) amid the last minute rush before departure. Getting ready for something like this cannot be the simplest of tasks and I wish all of them the very best in their endeavours. Doubtless, there will some tales appearing online in time and I only hope that they are happy ones.

However, the episode does prompt a question for me about the Challenge and this is its thirtieth year, after all: what about it? There is one thing in its favour, and that should be apparent from various blog postings that you find here, is that the parts of Scotland through which an itinerary would take me are among my favourite parts of the world. Nevertheless, the idea of a two week crossing adds other points to ponder. Back to back multi-day treks are something that I really haven’t been doing much since I finished off the West Highland Way and made a more concerted start on the Rob Roy Way. Then, there’s the matter of lessening dependence on serviced accommodation (well, hostelling is gaining some favour with me over hotels and guesthouses) in favour of a more independent alternative; some may use the former option for the whole Challenge but it seems to be the exception rather the rule. After that, there’s the subject of personal fitness and I very much realise that work is needed there too.

So, my answer to the question of doing the challenge is not just yet. What I am not saying is that it is not for me because many of the things that I enjoy these days were activities that I was happy to leave for other folk at one point. Apart from the whole hill wandering habit, this is true to an extent also of how I earn my living. When you ease yourself into something at your own pace, things start to happen and heaven only knows how far you’ll get.

In the meantime, the longer days of summer are now at hand. Of course, that is no guarantee of fine weather in these parts and I don’t like it too hot anyway. Even with those caveats, my mind is turning to multi-day excursions again. Having a selection of Graham Uney’s Backpacker’s Britain Cicerone Guides, I shouldn’t be short of a few ideas and the prospect of managing walks for which public transport logistics might be tricky has a certain footloose appeal. Much of Chris Townsend’s The Backpacker’s Handbook has been read and there is nothing at all to stop re-readings. Gear has been building over time up but more acquisitions remain in order. What I really need to do is decide when I am sufficiently equipped for stepping just across that threshold from walker to backpacker while not going in too deep too soon; that should keep the wish list under control. Suspicions are building that there could be some tinkering and familiarisation before I embark on anything more adventurous. A summer of exploring the paraphernalia of independent backpacking might be no bad thing, even without their being used in anger on an escapade.

The trouble with going somewhere for the first time is that you need to decide what to see. That reality is heightened when there are so many options that there is an embarrassment of riches. My Easter visit to Aviemore was a good example of this last point in every way. The weather could not have been better so it would have been a pity to waste that too. Having only a day available to me for on foot explorations meant that making best use of it was very much in mind.

In the end, I opted for a walk around the Rothiemurchus Estate in order to savour as many sights as possible. Leafing through Ronald Turnbull’s Cicerone guide, Walking in the Cairngorms, revealed a tempting option in the shape of Creag Dhubh and the Argyll Stone but I ruled out the idea of a quick ascent of a single hill in favour of a deeper incursion that took in more of the surrounding scenery. The prospect of a trot up Gleann Eanaich was also sorely tempting but I, perhaps erroneously now that I look at it again, thought it too confining an idea. It might have its difficulties at the time but leaving something for later has its rewards when one idea unleashes many more.

Getting from Aviemore to Inverdruie meant facing progress over tarmac. However, a short off road crossing over the Spey and the presence of useful roadside footways provided some relief as did the ambiance of a sunny morning. Inverdruie was where I left tarmac after me for a while to pick up a pleasant footpath through heather-carpetted heath with a good scattering of pines. That took me by Lochan Mor where I lingered a little while I enjoyed the pure idyll that was on offer. It’s the sort of spot where you could stop all day in the right conditions but I was minded to go further.

At Milton Cottage, I met up with tarmac again and watched with some amazement as a truck negotiated a narrow bridge with some difficulty before I continued to Loch an Eilean after it had passed. At the loch, where tarmac was left after me until evening and I could have got to Creag Dhubh from here if that was my plan. The tracks are good and were playing host to cyclists as well as walkers so a certain state of alertness was very much in order.

Another meeting of tracks was where I might have turned for Loch Eanaich (or Einich if you prefer; the OS use both spellings) and the crags above it. They certainly look dramatic on OS maps so I suppose that they are yet another addition to the ideas shelf. I stayed my course to pass Lochan Deo and crossed Am Beanaidh using the Cairngorm Club Footbridge. My onward progress was to have me shadow Allt Druidh as I continued on in the direction of the Lairig Ghru.

After another meeting of paths called Piccadilly, I took the one signposted as being for the said famed mountain pass. It was at this point that I left any gentle strollers and cyclists for quieter terrain. That allowed me a spot of lunch-taking before commencing my ascent. That ascent was steady rather than tiring but the results of any labours were there to be seen, particularly whenever I looked behind.

However, I wasn’t bound for Lairig Ghru; I was happy with a glimpse of that pass and what surrounds it. Instead, the idea of mounting Creag a’ Chalamain and Castle Hill became a prospect. Sticking with the Chalamain Gap wouldn’t have left me disappointed either. Being mindful of time, I decided against the roundabout route followed by the tracks shown on my map for a more direct and cross country route. Whatever doubts may have lain in the back of my mind regarding the strength of my legs were dispelled as I made my way up the slopes. It didn’t take so long to reach the track that I would have been following if I had been using the route marked on my map.

My eventual course to the top of a hill was made all too tempting by the sight of a good clear track up the side of Creag a’ Chalamain from the gap. The reward for my energy expenditure was ample views of all that lay about me. The experience laid the seed of an idea for resolving hill identification questions, an occasional bugbear of mine: to work out what hills feature in one of your photos, get on top of one of them to simplify your view of the landscape. Cairngorm and Braeriach lay among the cornucopia that lay about me. Both were holding on to snow with the latter really succeeding in its hoarding of the white stuff. By staying lower down, I was avoiding any such difficulties.

Hopping over to Castle Hill didn’t cost me much in labour or in views either. Loch Morlich and Lochan Dubh a’ Chadha lay beneath me with lower hummocks like Airgiod Meall, Craiggowrie, Creagan Gorm and Meall a’ Bhuachaille being easy to pick out from the map in my possession. I probably should have dropped into Eag a’ Chait to pick up a path to Rothiemurchus Lodge but my meandering course took me further east around the hillside before I gingerly picked my way down a steep slope to join an alternative track to the same place. This was to be no exact route march and I didn’t mind so long as I knew where I was and remained safe; there are bigger worries in life than whether a route was followed exactly or not.

Given that I was now on more level terrain, I snatched some time for a breather after Rothiemurchus Lodge before scotching any ambitions to visiting the shores of Loch Morlich in favour of a return to base. Ironically, my route back to Aviemore was to take me not far from the said loch before I headed along another track to join the one that I had been using that morning. Somewhere along the way, my brain had jumped time zone to CET, or double summer time if you like, to reduce the perceived amount of time that I had until the light failed. This silly development would have been worse if it lured me into a false sense of security so I’ll be more careful in future. It might be after so many years with digital watch faces that using one with an analogue style has not become second nature to me just yet and I’ve had it a few years. Still, the last time the my brain jumped time zone was on a walk among the Brecon Beacons a few years and the movement was in the same direction and with the same watch too. Maybe, a return to digital displays is in order…

That mental time shift did not deprive me of the ability to enjoy the walk back in the late evening sunlight. If anything, its direction and its warmth of colour suited my surroundings better. Naturally, photographic activity continued as a I plied the paths and tracks on my way back to base. That there were less folk about added to the sense of relaxation too as I reached Piccadily to begin reversing my outward route. From there, it was back over the Cairngorm Club Footbridge, past Lochan Deo to reach Loch an Eilean again. From the latter, I stayed on tarmac for the journey to Inverdruie rather than reprising my earlier off road route. Traffic was light so I only had to contend with the effects of tarmac bashing on my feet. From Inverdruie, I reversed the way that I had earlier trodden with a stop to give directions to two young ladies in a car wanting the SYHA hostel. It was after they had left that I wondered about having joined them for the sake of giving better directions because that’s where I was staying too. There was another cause for that perhaps aberrant brainwave: the tarmac tramping was taking its toll. There was woodland prior to my crossing of the Spey so I pottered along a softer track there for some respite. In the meantime, my brain had returned to BST and I felt a bit of an idiot but was glad to have had the extra hour anyway. It had been the only real howler on an otherwise stellar and long day of walking in Highland countryside with a different feel to that to which I have been accustomed.

It might be the presence of well maintained paths and tracks along with the mixture of heather and pine trees that covered the ground but I got the impression that this was a drier part of the Highlands that other areas that I have explored before now. Even the higher slopes seemed to possess none of the boggy stuff. That’s not to say that I met no messy conditions underfoot because the track that I joined after coming off Castle Hill was very rough but that was the exception to the norm as far as my hike was concerned. Geology and weather might also have their part to play. After all, the Cairngorms do lie in the east so the rain-bearing westerlies might have jettison much of their cargo by the time that they get this far. Then, there’s the hand of humankind too. Whatever the causes, my surroundings felt a world apart from the sogginess that I have encountered in the west and that was without the airborne moistness that I have met in parts of Argyll and Lochaber. Yomps from Corrour train station to Spean Bridge and from Loch Awe train station to Taynuilt by way of Glen Kinglass certainly took over sodden terrain but my taste of Badenoch felt very different to this.

From an Easter weekend for which the forecast was none too promising, I managed to extract a decent walk. Having a well stocked ideas shelf and some free time meant that a getaway proved possible when things started to look better for the U.K.. The rain stayed in Ireland to saturate the countryside and annoy people like my father. I suppose that it sounds perverse to have some gaining from the discomfort of others and it’s not the first time that I remember that happening but I suppose that’s life.

Having possibilities is all very fine but I have found that they can cause indecision and delay too. That’s when I find that having an informal pecking order helps and having not walked in Scotland for a little while pushed the Cairngorms plan higher up the wish list. Saying that. it helped that it was possible to book a place to stay at the Aviemore SYHA too. Having that option open to me meant that unexpected good weather wasn’t left to go to waste and more ideas not populate that walking wish list too. Those may form part of a longer visit yet but that’s only a pipe dream right now.

Travel Details:

Whichever way that you do it, this is a long schlep from Macclesfield. It’s the sort of journey that makes the Caledonian Sleeper an appealing idea were it not for the cost. Still, if you allow the time and avoid engineering works, a return train works out well enough if a little on the expensive side. Travelling at Easter as I did meant that engineering works on the West Coast mainline sent me around by York to Edinburgh before continuing to Inverness. Logistically, I needn’t have done it on the way back but return ticketing was probably best from the cost point of view. Flying is another idea but times aren’t always in your favour and I’m not sure how they’d cope with walking poles unless a duffel bag came too. Of course, there’s the environmental consequences to be considered too. Sitting back on a train with a music player and something to read isn’t so bad, is it?