12.06.15.
The bus ride up to Sheil bridge was very boring and the
campsite very full and noisy. I pitched up drank tea, cooked, then
went for a walk. I checked out the start of tomorrows route then back
to the tent and to bed. I was away by 07.00 next morning, around by
the shore of Loch Duich, at sea level, around to the turn off for
Morvich. Following the faint path beside the first cottage on the
left. It lead onto a more prominent track, zigzagging steeply up.
This lead on to a long “V” shaped valley, the path ran up the
valley but the first sister was up to the left, no path just steep
heathery slopes. Up I go, as I reach the top of Sgurr na Moraich (1st
sister) the clagg descends, I push on to the bealach, the path
coming up the valley comes to here. Would it have been easier to come
up this way, dump the pack and shoot up to the first sister
unencumbered? Who knows. The second sister, Sgurr nan Saighead,
comes and goes. Then the first big one Sgurr Fharan (1067m), I needed
to use my hands here just for the odd move walking poles left hanging
by their straps. On top check the map, check the compass. On the way
down I meet my first other walkers going the other way. Sgurr na
Carach, meet two young women on top both very fit, both beautiful I
found myself wishing I was young and fit again. Voices in the mist on
the way up the last of the sister Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe, three
people appear. French, a man and two women they too are looking for
somewhere to camp. It was getting late, I'd been in the mist all
day, my eyes were getting tired the pack heavy. I crossed Spaniards
peak (Sgurr nan Spainteach) to tired to notice, certainly to tired to
think of the events of 1719.
I checked the GPS a mile to go. Bealach an Lapan at last
(Bealach = col) the blue SMC guide says that this is a good place to
camp, doesn't look good to me. It's a ridge if it don't slope to the
left it slopes to the right. I dump the pack and head off down the
Glen Sheil side hunting for water, and straight away find myself on
vertical sphagnam mosse, I had to go a long way down to find the
faintest of trickles. I pitch up on the sloping Bealach, tea and food
only I can't eat, I forced down three spoonful's and throw the rest
away. It was a cold windy wet night, I kept rolling downhill pushing
the inner tent onto the fly, my sleeping bag was getting wet.
Without my glasses on I looked to my watch, I'm sure it
said 07.00 so I got up, dressed and started making porridge, next
time I look at my watch it's 04.10? It's light so I get up anyway, as
I pack it starts snowing (two days off mid summers eve) by the time I
set off it's settling. I stomp over Saileag seeing nothing wrapped
head to toe in waterproofs, hat and gloves. As I approach the middle
brother Sgurr a Bhealaich Dheirg there's a lightening in the mist
then puff it's gone, it's wall to wall sunshine. “Wow what
happened”? On top I shed unneeded layers, life suddenly feels so
much better. Over the last brother Aonach Meadhoin and its little
side peak Sgurr an Fhuarail then down 500m down to the Bealach a
Choinich. There's a spot it's flat, it's level, it's well drained it
lays between glacier worn slabs. There's a breeze so no midges. I dry
my bag as I brew tea, this is better. Clear sky's during the day lead
to cold nights and it was cold. Twice I got up in the night to put on
more cloths, I had all my spare cloths on but was still cold. It was
mid-summer and I'm wishing I'd brought my winter sleeping bag.
Day three, another day another peak, Ciste Dhubh. Steep
zigzags up wet boggy slopes level out and lead onto a sharp airy
ridge that in turn leads to the summit about a mile away. As I take
off my pack at the summit I turn and see someone behind me “Oh,
where did you spring from” we both say in unison, neither of us had
seen the other and we were only 100m apart. He returned the way he
came, I descended to the north, first down a ridge going north-east
then I dropped off this into a wild Coire na h-Eiridh. There was a
head of deer in the coire I was anxious not to spook them. I try to
hug the right wall of the coire, they move off to the left of the
coire. I move, they move, gradually we circle each other until I'm
below them then they run back into the coire. Below me a fenced off
enclosure, the contrast between inside and out is striking. Inside is
so much greener, so much fresher looking. There are similar
enclosures dotted around the Glen an attempt to return the glen to
something like it once was. I skirt around the enclosure and cross
the River Affric dry-footed. Camban Bothy lays at the watershed
between Glen Affric and Glen Lichd, a posh two roomed affair with
nice dry sleeping benches.
The rain returned in the night, hammering on the tin
roof. It eased around 05.00 to a light drissel. The plan had been to
climb Ben Fhada which was somewhere above me in the clagg but what to
do in this weather? When I left the bothy it had more or less stopped
raining, so I decided to push on, the track towards Glen Affric is a
good one so I followed it to the foot of Ben Fhada's east ridge. This
ridge faces the youth hostel at Alltbeithe so I was hoping there
would be a path up it but if there was one I couldn't see it. The
going on the lower slopes was very boggy and hard going up to around
800m where it levels off and becomes much more of a sharp ridge with
a big drop of to the north (right) and a gentle slope to the south
(left). At this point I meet a chap from Glasgow coming down from the
summit, he'd climbed it from the other side and was heading for
Camban. We decided we were both mad to be out in this weather as by
this time it was raining hard again. He was the only person I meet in
four days. I followed the edge around to the trig point the only
thing to tell me I was at the top. How to get down from the top?
There was a slight ridge going off to the north-east with what looked
like a path going down it. Thing is it's not marked on the map and
there are some big crags on the north side of Ben Fhada so the path
could have lead to the top of a climb for all I knew. The map shows a
path going down to the north-west so I set off to find it and
straight away came to the edge of a big drop. I followed this first
west then north-west and slowly it began going downward. I came to a
bealach, I was only about a mile from Loch a Bhealaich where I
planned to camp but there was no direct route down to it. I had to
head in the opposite direction down off the ridge I was on into a
coire on the west side, and then back over another bealach lower
down; in all a detour of about 4 miles. Seeing a herd of Feral Goats
at the bealach went some way to making up for the effort. It had been
raining on and off all day so there was no chance of finding anywhere
dry to pitch up, so I found the least squidgy bit of ground I could
and it had to do.
Once I had my water bottle filled and was inside my
little nest the weather wasn't really that important. I was dry and
warm-ish and I could relax. The routine was pretty much the same each
night, pull everything you need out of the rucksack. Blow up the mat
and lay on it, things I don't need stay in the sack, that goes under
the fly down by my feet out the way of the door. Dripping waterproofs
go on top of the sack, boots next to the sack. Put the stove together
and boil a pan of water for a brew. While that's heating check your
feet, if your socks are wet (although at this stage of my trip they
were still dry) hang them over the top of the inner tent and put dry
ones on. I carry two plastic carrier type bags with me, if I need to
get up in the night I put these on over my dry socks before I put my
wet boots back on, that way my dry socks stay dry. In the morning the
wet socks go back on. Once the water is boiled make tea then boil
another pan full to “cook” the freeze-dry meal. The only way to
carry fifteen days food is to use freeze-dry. They come in foil bags,
you just add boiling water and eat it straight out the bag, so no
washing up and your left with just the bag to carry out. It also
means that I only need a small (0.5lt) pan thus saving a little bit
more weight. After I've eaten I study the map for the next day, read,
make notes etc. (When the weathers nice I can sit outside and take
photo's, not that I did that much on this trip).
On the north side of Glen Affric is a long chain of
hills from Toll Creagach in the east to Sgurr nan Ceathreamnhnan
(please don't ask me how to pronounce that) in the west. I was camped
below Sgurr nan Ceathreamnhnan. The great plan, dreamed up months
before, was to climb up onto this ridge and follow it all the way to
Toll Creagach. Then drop down to the north, cross over the dam at the
end of Loch Mullardoch before exploring the hills on the north side
of this Loch. Unfortunately the weather was just not sticking to the
script, I had to switch to plan B.
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