Training Log Archive: Thraws

As I figured this was probably the last time I'd be in the Highlands before my planned final munro next January, and as the Inaccessible Pinnacle was likely to be impossible at that time of year, I ought to have a crack at it now, before going home, or in preference to bagging more corbetts. I'd been to the foot of the rock twice, but never climbed it because the option of abseiling down the west face was unavailable, given I had no rope. The east ridge had looked climbable, but would have to be downclimbed afterwards, with guided clients trying to get up the same way at the same time. Since my last visit, though, I had aged 16 years and had watched terrified people on tv climbing the pinnacle roped. Did I really have the guts to do the damn thing all by myself? I knew I'd be nervous and that a strong instinct for self-preservation would have to be overcome, but figured that if I gave myself a chance and cleared my head of every other consideration I could probably solo the thing no probs. So I packed up the tent again and drove to Kyle, via Plockton, where I restocked at the lovely Co-op, then over the bridge to Broadford, Sligachan and Portree. The weather was overcast and damp, and I got a coffee and bought a paper to waste time, before taking the single track road to the lovely Glen Brittle campsite. It was just about dry but the cloud was right down to the road and of the Cuillin I could see nothing at all. It would depend on the weather.

Today's hills were only done because they were all that was left in the book, but they gave good views of the munros done in 1995. They were also improved by their snow capping, the only indication of their relative height. I parked the car at the Cluanie Inn and walked under the east end of the Cluanie ridge before taking to the long easy ridge to Druim nan Cnamh. The going was fairly good until I reached the snow which was, again, surprisingly deep in places. At the top I simply turned round and walked back to the car. After a snack and drink I walked under the western slopes of Am Bathach to the Bealach a Choinich and then straight up the back of the hill to the top. The views were good in every direction, the hill being totally surrounded by munros, some of them quite big ones. I was quite pleased with my fitness and had no trouble at all with the second big climb of the day. I was probably losing weight as a result of all the exercise and lack of calories.

Forecast was for snow all day so I opted for a straightforward out and back peak. I'd been almost to the top of Ben Tee in good weather during the coast to coast walk in 1998 so it would do for a bad day. I thought I'd remember the long trek through the forestry via Greenfield but I didn't, only the shelter near the bridge being familiar. The walk up to the col beside the Allt Bealach Easain was much rougher than I'd remembered it as well, and by now the snow was falling hard. The slope above was so steep I'd wondered whether it'd be possible under snow. It was slippy and difficult but went, slowly, although deep heather and scree made the going pretty unpleasant. The gradient eased higher up and it was a relief to see the cairn. Rather than descend to the col I veered right and found a better line. The walking in the forest was good but I had to adopt avoiding tactics when I encountered the heelan' bull.

The stream crossing early on was just about OK and the path started well. But it deteriorated with the weather and I lost it altogether at a random point beneath the steep slopes of the Cluanie Ridge. I tried to work out where I was with the map, set the compass, and headed off upwards into the sleety rain. I found the path again roughly where it disappeared under the fresh snow but the route up to the high col on the ridge was pretty obvious. Then I followed the ridge and wall over a bump and up to the Sgurr a Bhac Chaolais cairn. The descent east from here was very steep and in the snow I had to be extremely careful, but I was soon under Sgurr na Sgine's ramparts. I couldn't see them but I set the compass again and contoured across the scree below a helpful wall, counting paces, until the ridge above me to the right became climbable. I was on the small summit surprisingly quickly, but the walk to the familiar NW top reassured me I was where I thought I was. I followed the rim round to Faochag but had forgotten how much reascent the whelk involved. I had also forgotten how slow and tricky the descent down its knite-edge ridge can be and could see Glen Shiel again long before I actually reached it. The stream crossing was now impossible so I simply waded in and squeezed out socks and emptied boots back at the car. (The next day I discovered Chaolais is in fact only half a corbett as the ridge I had seem leaving it towards the south actually has a top above Kinlochhourn which is exactly te same height, so the honours have been divided.)

The country and the weather made this an exceptional day and one I shall treasure for ever. I had to drive to Killilan, first, from where I could see the day's first hill plastered in fresh snow. On the good path up the corrie more snow fell quite thickly, and when I left the path to make a way through the crags I found it lying well above knee height in places and frozen in others on slopes that were out of bounds without the axe. But I found a way and on Sgumann Coinntich entered a world of white and black. There was some navigation involved from here on, and the cloud swirled around, so I followed the compass to the col and then the junction of streams which marked my attack point for Faochaig. But as I climbed the final slopes the mists were lifting and the views opening up to the south, over Glen Elchaig and then the massive corries of Ceathreamhnan and Fhada. I sat by the cairn as the skies slowly turned to blue, revealing a winter wonderland all around, and made myself familiar with the huge munros of the central highlands which are hardly ever seen from this side. The sight was absolutely awesome and it was really hard to get up and get going again. I wandered to another edge of the summit plateau and floundered down through slopes of deep deep snow to pick up the stalkers path that led to the col below the truly remote Aonach Buidhe. Adding this to today's bag would combine two big hill days into one. The steep slopes eventually eased and the view from the top was just as sensational, supplemented now by Carn Eige and the outlying munros of Fhionnlaidh and Dheiragain. What a privilege. Only the length of the walkout persuaded me back to my feet and down the hill to Iron Lodge. At this remote spot I was passed by two mountain bikers and passed a small group of three campers. It was still about three hours back to Killilan, but there was all sorts of interest in the glen and I tried not to rush and to savour the atmosphere of this lovely place on such a lovely day.

Sgurr Gaorsaic hadn't been on my original schedule, but it would make another hill and a sort of rest day so I set off up the good path to the Bealach an Sgairne. I passed a backpacker making his idiosyncratic way to Cape Wrath. The pass, and the rest of the hill, were above the snowline so the day was passed in a world of white. The going around the Loch a Bhealaich was tricky, and the snow was deep in places on the slope of the hill, but I found a good-ish line besides some old fence posts. The cloud was just off the top but I could see nothing of the mighty Ceathreamhnan or Fhada. A sledge would have been really handy for the descent, which was guided for the most part by my rather purposeful footsteps of the morning.

I climbed Sgurr Mhic Bharraich from Shiel Bridge in the morning, via Loch Coire nan Crogachan, and Sgurr an Airgid in the afternoon. I had good views of the Saddle and the Five Sisters from the former, but near the top of the latter it started to snow quite hard. Above about 600 metres the snow was settling and quickly becoming quite deep. It snowed a lot in the night and next morning the hills looked very wintry again.