Return to the Eastern Fannichs

With both the walks I had planned to do over the weekend completed in one go, and my wife up to 100 Munros, all the kids busy, and another day of uninterrupted sunshine forecast, we decided to complete the Fannich hills before heading home to Perth. After two night of dreadful sleep in the tent, we got a decent bed at the Alltguish Inn (nice room, good bed and shower, poor breakfast) before heading to the start point just along the road. The little car park by the metereological station marks the entry point to the Eastern Fannish from the Ullapool Rd, which is accessed by a bulldozed track through a forest just S/E of the bridge over the Abhain an Torrain Duibh. This track, is at once rather pleasant as it winds through open woodland, but equally hellish as it contains brutal swarms of cleggs which dive-bomb any walker who dares bare any skin.

Just before the end of the forest the track dives to the right, into denser forestry and millions of cleggs. On the map there seems to be no further path or track after this point, but in fact the track continues across the glen and almost all the way up Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich via the broad Creag Dhubh Fannaich ridge. It's a long slow climb which was probably just as well as it was extremely hot and I was carrying five litres of fluid!

Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich is a lovely hill, with especially great views of the Beinn Dearg group and An Teallach's distinctive shape to the North. What really grabs the attention however is Sgurr Mor, the next hill in this round - and one of the finest peaks in this range. Last time I climbed this it was only glimpsed intermittently between swirling clouds - but this weekend it shimmered in bright sunshine! What a sight. Also quite a climb!

The long south-westerly ridge took us over Meall nan Peithrean, Meall Gorm and a big pull up to An Coileachan before a big descent Northwards towards Loch Gorm from where we could see the car, the other side of the clegg-ridden Forest of Doom! There are no photos of this part of the walk, we were being eaten alive!

This was a wonderful weekend, which had it all - time together, sun, sea, hills, peaks, wildlife, and views as goos as anywhere in the world! If Scotland had weather like this reliably, the tourist industry would be a goldmine!

Return to the Western Fannichs

If there is a finer sight in all the land than Wester Ross in blazing sunshine, I have yet to see it. Last weekend my wife and I enjoyed the rare collision of good weather and no work or church or parenting responsibilities and so drove North through lovely Ullapool to the Ardmair campsite, where we threw down our tent, brewed coffee and planned our adventure for the following day.

It's been many years since I have walked in The Fannish hills, that lovely range of mountains that appears to the left of the Ullapool road as it heads North through the Dirrie Mor. Countless cars see the graceful outlines of its' peaks and ridges, but very few people seem to venture up onto its spacious countours. Since completing the Munros, there have been several favourite walks which I have wanted to go back and share with my wife - and the Fannichs are right up there in the top ten.

After a fitful night (I never sleep that well in a tent),  we stocked up on coffee and filled our rucksacks. I have discovered that in order to feel OK, I need to carry a lot of fluid up the hills on hot days, and so my pack was heavy. Nevertheless, we strode down the track from the A832 to Loch a Bhraoin and following the 'Walk Highlands' route advice turned east and crossed the Alt Brebaig on a precarious bridge under the slopes of Meall a Chrasgaidh - our first hill of the day. A mile or so south of the bridge we turned directly west and marched up the relentlessly steep slopes to the summit - by which I had sweated my body weight in water and replenished it from my supplies.

It was good to spend some quality time with my wife, life has been extremely busy recently with work and family travel meaning that we have spent more time apart in the last year than in the previous 25! Realising that this wasn't really that great, we prioritsed some time together and ring-fenced it from other competing concerns. It's something that is really good for us and which we should do more often! 

Sgurr nan Clach Geala is a fine, high mountain, whose ridges are are untrammeled joy to traverse. From the airy walkways of this sculptured peak it seems as if half of Scotland is on show in all directions. Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, The Fisherfields, Slioch - all distinctive and each loaded with memories of hill days and companions. Last time I was on this hill was in June 2006 - and it was so windy that standing up was a real issue - I scampered off and back to Ullapool Youth Hostel as fast as I could. This time, the temptation to linger was strong - but we had a lot of miles and more hills to do. 

The next one was Sgurr nan Each, which from Sgurr nan Clach Geala looks tiny, is a good little hill in its own right. But where were all the people? It was a sunny weekend in the school holidays, Scotland was basking in light, it was stunningly beautiful and almost completely empty. Has hillwalking gone out of fashion? Was the weather too hot? Or do folks here in Scotland fail to appreciate the glory on our doorstep?

With plenty of food and fuel in the rucksack, we resisted the temptation to head Northwards to the car and instead hunted for the ascent track up Sgurr Breac. I remember finding this path in appalling weather in 2006, but here in sunshine it seemed to be well hidden - and only emerged further up the steep ascent. I was very up for more hills, and combining both the walks I had planned into a single day. My wife was inspired by the fact that she was on 98 Munros and that these two (which looked tantalisingly close) would clock up her hundred. But in the heat, towards the end of a long day, it was a fearful slog! In 2006 on this ridge I had seen nothing, in truly dreadful weather, so to repeat these hills in cloudless skies was a genuine delight. We went to A'Chailleach butr returned to Toman Choinnich to use it's long NW ridge as a descent route to Loch a Bhraion- descending the WalkHighlands recommended ascent path. It's steep and in places wet and slippery, but makes for a quick way back.

Sadly the extra two Munros meant we were not back in Ullapool before closing time at the Seafood Shack - which would have to wait until the following day! Not all hill days are this good - but this was as near darn perfect as it gets. Blessings duly counted and thanks given to God!

 

Glen Shee again

The Glenshee hillSs  have a certain reputation for being munros for lazy folk! The A93 climbs high through the landscape here leaving very little ascent from road to summit cairn on most of these hills. The hills themselves for the most part form a gentle, rolling upland landscape with few crags, no scrambles and easy options for ticking large numbers of munros off in day. 

Yet, if the 'lazy-munroist' tag has something of a ring of truth to it, that makes it easier to forgive than the lazy-hill writers who dismiss this landscape as 'dull', 'unexciting' and lacking the thrills of the west coast peaks or the grandeur of the central Cairngorm massif.  

The Glenshee hills have a charm all of their own, and it not just their accessibility and easy ascents that have made me climb them repeatedly. The broad rolling hills are captivating and delightful, and present vast open spaces which make the mind rest and the soul soar. Looking south, vast swathes of Perthshire are spread out like a tablecloth laid in front of the walker who takes the time to pause and gaze. The land flattens out as the Tay winds its way down towards Perth, and forestry and hunting forests give way to crops and pasture. To the west, the eyes are assaulted by uncountable numbers of hills. In fact, the levels of visibility and clarity could be classified by the number of peaks visible from the likes of Glas Maol, from which the views over the top of the Cairnwell and Carn Aosda into the tangle of hills behind the Dalmunzie House Hotel, and the lofty vastness of the Tarf and Tilt beyond. These are then drawfed by the most famous of the Cairngorms to the North. Beinn Avon's great granite tors, from Glenshee look like pimples on the skin of the plateau - but present like granite detached houses to the walker who wants to bog their eccentric summits. From there the eye is drawn westwards to the Lairig Ghru, to Beinn Macduibh, memories of decades of hillwalks, friends, companions, storms, adventures and scenes that surely belong more to Middle Earth than Aberdeenshire.

With a half-day free and my wife counting down to completing a hundred munros, and two of out three kids up for a walk, we drove North; through Balirgowrie, Bridge of Cally and up the long-familiar roads to the hills. Summer hillwalks, Winter ski trips, have begun for my family on these roads. The Spittal of Glenshee is a sorry eyesore still, years after the fire that destroyed the hotel there. My family recall drinks there in crowded bars after days on the snow, and I remember competing with bus-parties of older folks to get the last scones, on my way down from long hill days! Yet the tangled mess of dereliction left there now is awful, and surely a business opportunity for someone going begging too. Perhaps the lack of reliable snow these days makes investment too risky; the fact that the site has not been cleared and remains in its current state is all the more surprising in that it lies within a National Park in which such things are not supposed to happen. Or at least when they do, to get dealt with.

We drove up past the old devil's elbow, on the new road up to the ski centre, and dropped down the other side on the road towards Braemar. At the foot of the steep ascent a little car park allows access to two bridges by the bifurcation of the upper part of the Clunie Burn. The left hand bridge is an ancient structure, a stone pack horse bridge overlain with turf, a delightful little time-piece. It oeads to a path which leads all the way up Carn an Tuirc, not on the route on the OS Map, but striking directly up the face to the rocky summit.

Here in driving winds we grabbed for hats and jumpers and wolfed down handfuls of trail-mix, and wondered where all the chocolate minstrels had gone (my daughter had been selectively raiding them from the bag!) Turnign eastwards and marching across grass and heather we found the track up to Cairn of Claise, a strange summit with a cairn whichis also part of a dry stone wall. Possibly the finest part of the walk is the descent around the corrie and back over the Sron na Gaoithe (just ducking to the right of its bouldery top). Pausing for an emotional moment to remember a late-friend who just loved to ski down the Coir Fionn, and imagining her flying down those slopes; there was a wisfulness and sorrow to our descent. And soon we were back at the car, and home for tea. Hardly an olympiad, but what better what to spend an afternoon?

Two easier ticks in the Munro book there might never be (I have climbed these many times!), but away with the lazy writing that dismisses the beauty of this wonderful landscape.