Back to the Mounth!

Tired, and acheing in places I didn't know it was possible to ache - I awoke this morning with that post-hillwalking feeling, which is a combination of pain and satisfaction. Yesterday my wife and I had a memorable stomp acound the White Mounth area of the Cairngorms National Park, which involved four new Munros for her, and a trip down memory lane for us both. In student days in Dundee, which was unbelievably three decades ago, our first walks were in and around the Loch Muick area. The first time we went there, my little Ford Fiesta got stuck in the snow and was pulled out by a friendly local farmer! We went there many times in our first years together, and it's a place full of nostalgia for us. However, the reason we went there yesterday had nothing to do with sentiment - simply that while the rest of Scotland was dissapearing under a blanket of rain, the hills east of Glen Shee were to be assailed with little more than a lively wind.

The car park at the Spittal of Glenmuick now costs the walker five pounds to park in! The Royal Estates must be making more money from that car park than for the whole Duchy Originals operation. To be fair, the estate is ploughing a lot of money back into the land, with large forestry recovery programmes and footpath work throughout the vast miles within its boundaries.

There is always a lovely moment when the view of Loch Muick comes into view, with its dark inky waters framed by the high peaks. There is a path around the periphery of the loch which itself would make a pleasant afternoon walk; and we took the northern side of the loch past the Royals lochside house at Glass-allt-Shiel. Previous visits here have usually been on the way down from (another!) ascent of Lochnagar; but this time we kept on past the royal picnic spot, and pushed up towards the Dubh Loch at the head of the glen. Although I have walked these hills many times - somewhow this stretch had eluded me and one of the reasons for selecting this route was to correct that omission. It's a lonely but rather wonderful spot too, with steep cliffs, dark waters, sandy beaches and a good path that drives high into the wild country.

It reminded me of my own 'Brigadoon moment' in these hills many years ago. In appalling weather, I found myself climbing north out of the very end of Glen Clova. I was cold, wet, tired and possibly hallucinating. As I started to climb up the path towards the bealach looking over into Loch Muick, from the mist there emerged a shooting party returning from their kill. The tweed-clad men with their ancient rifles led a team of horses down the track, and over each one was slung a freshly shot deer. The tweed men, with their extensive moustaches, looked as if they had stepped out of the 1850s. In fact one of them looked uncannily like a painting I had seen of Prince Albert. They offered passing greetings as I strode up the stalkers path, but stared at me oddly. Had they never seen 1990s hillwalking gear before? Just as fast as the fog uncovered them, they dissappeared back into it and were gone. 

No such hallucinations, or holes in the space-time coninuum occured yesterday, just a pathless slog, NW up the heathery slopes towards the high path linking the munros. Càrn a' Choire Bhòidheach waa our first followed by a trudge around the plateau to Càrn an t-Sagairt Mòr. This expansive wide, topped munro is famous for it's aircraft wreckage left since 1952 when an EE Canberra bomber crashed here killing all on board. The twisted metal of a wing and two engines lie bleak and forlorn on the hillside, marking the spot where the crew lost their lives. It's remarkably well preserved and rust-free despite having lain there for seventy years. Rather mournfully it let out a creak as the fierce winds grabbed at it's edges. It was an eerie memorial, perhaps made all the more poignant by the fact that we were there on the day of the Air India crash.

The rocky summit of Cairn Bannoch was next, which in turn led to the great Broad Cairn. Although it was clouding up, much of route was visible below us in between the worst of it. The walk back along the tops above the Dubh Loch and towards Loch Muick is just wonderful, an elevated highway for walking boots, which although being whipped by high winds which impeded progress, afforded exhilirating views down to the loch, Glass-allt--shiel and up to Lochnagar. After the brutal descent to the loch on the zig-zag bulldozed track, it's a long walk out!

My first attempt to climb into the White Mounth was a failure! We made the mistake of trying to take the direct route to Loch Callater from near Baddoch on the A93 (Glen Shee) road, which was a sopping wet quagmire - all peat, water, mud and misery. After sheltering in the bothy by the loch for ages, when we attempted the hill our friend Chubb was literally blown away by the savagely high winds whereupon the whole thing was abandoned. I subsequently returned and cycled up to the loch from Auchallater years later - and this was a more successful attempt. Doing the round from Glen Muick is I think the best of the three routes though. Lochnagar itslef can be added to this round easily enough, although we elected to explore the Dubh Loch for the first time, rather than Lochnagar yet again!

These are big, expansive hills. And we had a great day out - pushing our hill-fitness levels beyond where they were really comfortable. It was good to get a day away with my wife (life has been busy!), and to revisit some much loved scenes from our well-spent youth.  

Back on two wheels...

I was a cyclist long before I was a hillwalker. The reasons for that were almost entirely practical. Although I have lived my whole adult life in Scotland, I grew up near Heathrow airport on the west side of London. Suburbia was very functional, but it wasn't exactly beautiful and holidays were always about gertting away from the built up area and out into countryside. Family holidays were to places like Cornwall, and regular trips were taken to our grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins in Dorset too. When I was fairly young I discovered that if I cycled long and hard enough, I could get myself out into some scenery at almost no cost. My first target was the lake at Virginia Water which I reached on the bike my grandpa made for me.. I must have been eleven or twelve.

My range increased massively when I got my first proper bike, a Dawes Fox. Although the frame was implausibly heavy, and it had full metal mudguards, flat pedals and five gears with little range - it allowed me to take off. More importantly it enabled me to join the church cycling club, which was run informally by a wonderful chap called Lionel who organised the rides, and helped us to maintain our bikes. It wasn't long before my 'Fox' started to look different as a result; the saddle was jacked up into a racing position, the pedals gained toe-clips, and a front-carrier for locks and food appeared between the drop handlebars, along with set of Ever Ready lights. Prune Hill, Englefield Green and Windsor Great Park were early routes, but then the North Downs became accessible, through Cobham and Effingham, opening up places like Ranmore Common. Dorking, Shere, and the White Downs. By this stage we estimated we were doing rides of up to fifty miles. 

Several tours across the country followed, staying in youth hostels and reaching the Cotswolds, Peak District, Malvwern Hills, and the Black Mountains of Wales. The big days out we did were often runs down to the sea and back; 100 miles plus days to Brighton, Bognor, or Littlehampton - which meant traversing both the North and South Downs  - both fine chalk hilly landscapes. I upgraded to an F.W. Evans Toure de Luxe, which was Reynolds 531 framed, with a wide range of gears and centre-pulled cantilever brakes! That old bike served me well until last year when the local bike shop told me that they would no longer be able to get parts for it.

I barely cycled for many years, bringing up children was a big priority - and I was also plodding my way round the Munros. However I have been out a bit more over the last couple of Summers - and this year even bought a new bike. And how times have changed in bike technology! This machine has a carbon frame, blue tooth gears, and disc brakes. It's a lovely bike. Although I a have to say that the saddle is far worse than the Maddison G11 I had in 1983!

I'll never forget being on the way back from a coast run when Lionel said, "Gavin, congratulations you are now a hundred-mile-a day man!" He had a little contraption on his wheel which counted the miles, and then later a handlebar computer which responded to a magnet clipped to a spoke going past a senson with each turn of the wheel - to calculate the miles. I didn't have even that rudimentary technology and had to trace my routes using string on the OS maps when  I got home. One year I was given a weird device that looked like a pen, which you dragged around your route on the map - and with a conversion tool for the map scale would enable you to worlk out the distance. It was a bit vague and certainly a far cry from Strava which just sits there and produces a huge harvest of stats for the ride. Distance, ascent, average speed, personal bests  - and route maps and speed charts, and more!

I was watching Strava ticking over on my phone on its handlebar mount today and was delighted when it clicked from 99.99 miles to 100! I had a delightful run from Perth to Glen Clova, Glen Prosen and Glen Doll, via Scone, Newtyle, Kirriemuir and up into 'The Angus Glens'. The vast ice-carved valleys cut deep into the high Cairngorm National Park and are spectacular, and in the hot dry May we are having absolutely boiling too. Running ahead of schedule (and not wanting to reach the Glen Clova Hotel before they were serving lunch), I had a nice detour to Glen Prosen Village, both taking in another glen and making sure I'd get to three figures! I passed the hotel and cycled up the upper part of the glen, and stopped at the Glen Doll car park from where I climbed Mayar from with my wife last week.  The strong headwind as I went up the glen was a reassuring sign that the way back would be a blast - which it was. Lunch and two pints of Coke at the hotel set me up perfectly for the long road home. Fantastic day out!

Cruach Àrdrain and Beinn Tulaichean: The Final Munro

On Saturday May 10th 2025, I finally completed my round of the Munros. It's taken a ridiculously long time, as I climbed the first one in my first week at university at the start of the 1990s! When I arrived in Dundee to start university, I had never heard of "Munro Bagging". It was in a church in Dundee that someone said to me, "We're going Munro-bagging tomorrow, do you want to come?" "You're doing what?" I replied - and when they expplained that they were going to climb one of Scotland's 3000ft plus mountains, I was in! 

We drove to Inverlochlairig and climbed Stob Binnien, but had to abandon plans to also do Ben More as thunderous clouds were rolling in from the West. Although I barely climbed any more hills in my undergrad years, I never forgot the view from Stob Binnien. I'd grown up either wandering in the plesant downlands of Southern England, or enjoying annual trips to Snowdonia - but Scotland was of a different order. The Crianlarich Hills are a wonderful viewpoint, and I can still remember staring on awe at the array of peaks in every direction. 

Although I did a lot of walking, ticking off peaks didn't become a thing I pursued until much later - and it happened by accident! When I had constructed walks in Englandshire, the routes were determined by the red-lines on the OS maps which showed rights of way. Scottish OS maps confused me, because there weren't any red lines. I worried that this meant that you weren't allowed to walk anywhere here! Of course the opposite it true - you can walk almost anywhere and so such lines would be superfluous. Someone around that time gave me a copy of McNeish's "Munro Almanac", a slim hardback book which contained route suggestions. So, being unsure about where I could walk, started using the advice in the book - and found some great walks. Early ascents started with the hills nearest Dundee, in Glen Shee and the Angus Glens.

By 1997 I found myself in Perth where I knew no-one, married to a Jnr Doctor working 100+hrs a week, who was on duty every other weekend. And so I used the spare time I had to start doing more and more walks. The Perthshire hills was climbed for the first time in this era, as well as many of the hills up the A9. I also discovered a few other people who were up for hills too. Roy and his Dad were often out, and they'd drive up from Glasgow and I'd meet them at Crianlarich and do hills around there and further West. My wife's cousin Paul lived in Edinburgh at that time too, and was a regular companion both to places like Glen Lyon nearby and my first trip to Torridon.

In 1998 I became part of Perth Baptist Church, which at that time had an amazing walking club, of enthusiastic Munro-baggers, who stretched my range and ambitions as we did Beinn a Ghlo, Knoydart, the Cairngorms, South Glen Shiel Ridge and some epic Scrambling in Glen Coe!

When our children arrived in 1999, 2002, and 2005 - progress inevitable slowed down! Many Saturdays which might have been spent in the hills were spent in the local park, or taking kids to parties, as my wife worked overnights in the Out of Hours Doctors service at PRI on Friday nights. Many of the hills which I managed at that time where in my annual walking week in May. My Mum and Dad, for many years gave me Christmas present of a weeks worth of  childcare - allowing me to head North and do some intensive walking. It was on these trips that I did The Fannaichs, The Beinn Dearg group, the Coulin Forest, and Torridon. On some especially memorable trips, my childhood friend Ian would come up from Birmingham and we'd meet our pal Kevin in Cawdor and head North West and climb hills. These wonderful times came to a shuddering halt after Kevin died in 2014. My trademark bright yellow "Climb for Kevin" T-shirt came from the charity walk we did in his memeory for Highland Hospice who had cared for Kev in his last weeks. I wore it for every single Munro from then until I completed the list, in memory of one of the finest people I've ever known.

I never really thought I'd do all the Munro's, but being in the hills is just such good fun! The Munro books (McNeish, The SMC Guide, Butterfield) and subsequently the WalkHighlands website kept supplying route ideas, and I kept doing them. As my kids got bigger they would come with us too - babies were carried up Beinn na Lap, and toddlers legs marched up Meall nan Tarmachan (though they didn't do the ridge!). Happily all three of them are now good walkers, the middle one also having an ML certificate too.

As the years wore on, my walk highlands Munro map was turning steadily blue - each mountain coloured red for "not yet climbed" changing to blue signifying "climbed". Peter walked with me for a few years before 'retiring', Cruachan, and Creag Meagaidh were highights. There came a point when there were about fifty left when I thought, that if I stopped just reclimbing my favourite ones again and again (Lochnagar, Meall nan Tarmachan, Breariach, Ben Vorlich) but ticked off new ones - then I could actually do this. My wife bought me a trip with a guide up the Inn Pinn - and joined me on it. We then bought a tent and managed to get in and do some really remote ones like Lurg Mor, or Meall Lundaidh. Our friend and neighbour Christine was often with us on these trips, and was a great encouragement in pressing on with the task - just as she had done, having completed her first round a couple of years ago.

Cruach Ardrain seems like a strange choice for the final one, which probably requires some explanation. You see, it wasn't ever the plan. Many years ago Roy and I had attempted Cruach Àrdrain and Beinn Tulaichean, but had failed to locate the true summit of Ardrain in appalling conditions. Although we had done 95% of the walk, it was left unfinished, lurking in the corner of my Munro map for almost twenty years. When the possibility of completetion arose, it seemed sensible to leave it to last for two reasons. First, it is close to Perth so I could invite a load of friends to join me for the last one. And second - I liked the symmetry of doing my first (Stob Binninen) and final (Cruach Ardrain) from the same car park. 

So on Saturday, eighteen of us met at the Inverlochlairig car park - which was full to the brim with vehicles. We marched the length of the road to the farm, went North up the track before turning west into the climb. It was a slow walk - a couple of folks had "come out of retirement!" for my last Murno  and hand't been up for years - bit it meant it was very sociable. People from school, university, church and neighbours - most of whom didn't know each other; all took to the hill together. It was a scorcher of a day too - and needless to say the views were magic! 

The reascent of Beinn Tulaichean lead to an obvious descent to a bealach and a good pull up onto Cruach Ardrain. It was interesting to see where Roy and I had gone wrong all those years before - and how easy navigation is in the sunshine. My pals lined up and saw me over the line on the final summit. My son produced a bottle of single malt whisky and a load of cups which were shared out eagerly. Happy, happy memories. 

We dropped back to the bealach, and turned down into the glen to avoid the reascent of Beinn Tulachean. The guide books and website all say that these hills are largely unpathed. However, I suspect that is changing fast as there are obvious trails worn through the landscape which pretty closely follow the WalkHighlands GPX file of the suggested route.

Back at the car we said farewell to those who couldn't come back to ours, and headed for home to light BBQ, and sink a celebratory pint. We were also joined that night by many other friends who have been involved in the hills with me over the years but for a host of reasons couldn't do the walk. A special mention goes to Dorcas and Anya, Kevin's wife and one of his daughters whose presence meant that Kevin was definitely not fogotten at my final Munro celebration.

Munro bagging is a curious pastime as it is both pointless and wonderful. Pointless because the 3000ft/914m demarcation has no basis in anything relevent. It is arbitrary and inconsequential. The best Corbetts are better than the worst Munros! The reclassifications of the hills which made my first paper Munro-map obsolete only increase the sense that this pastime is a more than a little random. It is though also wonderful. Munro bagging has taken me to wonderful places, made me climb things I never would have found. It has taken me to parts of Scotland which I never would have been to, which I now love. It has been a shared passion with others which had led to great memories, wonderful days, and friendships. It's really great.  

Maoile Lunndaidh

It was the ever-entertaining Muriel Grey who used to say on The Munro Show, "This hill features a particularly long walk-in - and you know what that means!" She would then be met with a chorus from off-screen, "A LONG WALK OUT!" Maoile Lunndaidh would more than qualify for inclusion in that little panto-style catch-phrase exchange.

In the good company of my only wife and our only daughter, and with the MET Office promising a lovely day, we parked at the forestry car park opposite the Craig level-crossing over the Kyle of Lochalsh railway line. The yellow signs just along the road saying "Gerry's Hostel" brought back a flood of nostalgia and emotion, great times spent there with the legendary Rogers-character and the late, great Kevin McPhee. It also meant I was certain we were at the correct level crossing, so after breakfast and several runs of coffee through the AeroPress, we took to the track.

Once over the railway-line the rough private road swings left and runs parallel to the railway for a mile before swinging southwards into the wild. As long as you carefully avoid taking the wrong turning, (there are many forestry tracks) it's possible to cover the ground pretty fast, and soon we were amongst high peaks - far from the sound of traffic - and filling our water bottles by the old rope bridge, and again remembering standing at this very spot with Ian and Kev. On that occasion we headed SW, up to the Bealach Bearnais and scaled Sgùrr Chòinnich and Sgùrr a' Chaorachain - but on this trip the route took us eastwards towards the lonely holiday let at Glenuaig Lodge.

Before the end of the 4x4 track, just after a small wooded area, we easterly struck across the bog - and had to walk upstream a couple of hundred metres, as the recommended route on Walk Highlands brought us to a deep, wide swamp of a river. Eventually we found a place where we could cross unscathed and regained our bearing over a large peaty-hump which eventually lead down to a second river to cross. This one was a  delight, we stumbled into a little dell with a gorgeous waterfall and plenty of places to cross - and refill our bottles.

Soon we'd begin the real ascent of Maoile Lunndaidh, which is rough, pathless, steep and unrelenting. We attacked this in dry-weather, and were glad of it - imagining it wet and slippery doesn't bear thinking about. Grass gave way to heather, which gave way to stones, and after 850m the gradient relented a bit too - and views started to pop-out in all directions. Hill-banter on such occasions is somewhat formulaic- but no less enjoyable for that! It goes like this:

a) "Wow, look at the view!"
b) "Wonderful, isn't it- what do you think we're looking at?"
c) "Not sure, I'll get the compass out.... So if that's due South we're looking at Beinn (insert name) there,which means that the one next to it must be "Meall na (insert name) and beyond those the (insert name) group".
a) "Yeah, Beinn (insert name), do you remember the day we climbed that and (insert reminiscence #1)"
b)  "Like when we were in the (insert name) Group with (insert names) and (insert reminiscence #2)
c) etc
a) repeat 

I'm not mocking, merely observing my own behaviour! And the views here provided huge potential for this conversational cycle. An Teallach with Mark, The Fisherfields with Andy, Slioch with the old church walking club, and more... Maoile Lunndaiadh was a hill I had a planned to climb with Kevin, had he lived. In fact we'd sat in the kitchen at Gerry's Lodge with a huge mound of post-walk pasta and few bottles of beer and planned it out. I wonder if that was part of my reluctance to ever go and climb it. Thankfully, as it should be my penultimate Munro in my first round, my wife persuded me to stop procrastinating and just climb the thing!

Once on the summit ridge, whch is spacious and affords massive views in every direction, the brutal climb is soon forgotten and the stroll to the summit across springy grass and mosses, is like walking on air. Posing for the obligatory cairn-photo, we met two guys who were the only other people we saw all day - who took a family photo of us and did hill banter for a while. (see above)

The descent off the hill is far easier than the way up - heading down Northwards until a watercourse is found, then staying on its' left hand side, avoiding a steep gorge brought us down to the lovely dell and the waterfall which marked our way up. Once again bottles were filled, photos taken and a rest enjoyed before we embarked on the aforementioned "LONG WALK OUT!"

Maoile Lunndaidh is a slog, but as it is such a fine slog, I didn't mind at all! We landed back at the car in plenty of time to get back to the pub for food, and slink back early to our tent - where we all fell deeply asleep very quickly. 

I do like my job - but a day off in the hills every so often isn't bad either!

Back around the Ring of Steall

On a glorious Summer's day, my wife and I drove North - our target for the day, The Mamores. In the classic TV series, "The Munro Show, Muriel Gray said that these are her favourite hills in the whole of Scotland, and I can see why. It's been almost a quarter of century since I walked around the Ring of Steall, and it was my wife's first trip there. We spent a while trying to work out when I'd been there before, and the clue was that in the photos from that day was one Dr Harvey, a Kiwi who worked with my wife for a year at Perth Royal Infirmary in 1998! I probably agree with the redoubtable Ms Gray about these hills, they are really magnificent, with great sculpted ridges, lush glens, incredible views of moors, mountains, glens, lochs, the sea, and rivers and waterfalls - with great access up Glen Nevis and great stalkers paths from glen to peak. I mean really, other than the midgies which lurk in Glen Nevis, these hills are heavenly!

We took the traditional route around the Ring of Steall, parking at the end of the Glen Nevis road, and going through the Nevis Gorge and over the rope bridge at the Grey Mare's Tail before taking  the stalkers path up to An Gearanach - the first Munro of the day and the start of 'the ring'. The four  Munros (it was five, when I first climbed it) form a ring, the last of which lies over the 'devil's ridge' a wonderful little gnarly ridge with a bad step in its centre.

Our problem was carrying enough fluid for a long day in a drought. I carried (and used 4 litres, and my wife 3), and yet still when we reached the River Nevis we were really thristy - it was sweltering. It has been so dry that the air had a whiff of smoke, from big fires burning near Spean Bridge and at Glen Affric.

Last time we made a navigational error on descent, and came down far too far to the east, and over terribly steep ground. This time I was careful to head us NW off Sgurr a Mhaim towards Polldubh. this took us to a delightful riverside track back towards the car, via a footbridge.

The saga of my Munro bagging continues - I still haven't got round to doing the last two I need to complete, but have got further into taking my wife around my favourite walks. This surely is really one of the best - ridge walking at its absolute finest, Breathtaking and wonderful!

Glorious Knoydart

It is many years since I have ventured into that most special of Scottish peninsulas: Knoydart. Even the name Knoydart is enticing, and the glory of the scenery, the remoteness and emptiness of the hills and the romance of the history of the estate and community stir the heart!

My first trip there was with a church walking group, and we trecked in from Kinloch Hourn to Barrisdale Bay. Our weekend of hillclimbing was cut short by truly awful weather, lack of visibility and magnetic variations in the rock which made our compasses freak-out alarmingly. My second visit was a lot better, camping at Inverie Bay with my younger son, completing the Knoydart Munros despite battling mixed weather and midgies the size of hedgehogs...

This third visit was very different. This time my wife was with me (her first trip there), and we came in via Mallaig and the ferry to Inverie. Just getting to Mallaig proved to be something of an ordeal. A wide load was being moved across Scotland and we got stuck behind it's glacial progress from near Laggan Wolftrax all the way to Spean Bridge - which took over two and half hours!! They stibbornly refused to ever stop to allow the queues to pass and made us miss our ferry - which was very irritating! Thankfully there was space on a later ferry and the tea room had our fish and chips ready when we eventually arrived in Inverie. A load of our friends and neighbours were in Knoydart too, doing a big round of all three of its Munros, camping first at Inverie then at high level near Mam Barrisdale. We had hoped to join them, but I have hurt my neck and the physio advised against carrying an exped pack and not sleeping with proper pillows. So we opted for the b&b and to just doing one Munro.

So early on the Saturday morning we set off from 'The Gathering' and followed the track past the campsite and up the Inverie River towards the Loch an Dubh Lochain with our sights set on Ladhar Beinn. Before the loch we struck northwards up a 400 metre nightmare of a climb. Steep, overgown, wet, slippery and deep in bracken and brambles - it really was unpleasant. However it allowed for access to the high ridges which would prove to be such inspiring company for the rest of the day. Sadly there wasn't enough time to turn westwards from the low point on the ridge (Mam Suidheig) to climb Sgurr Coire Choinichean, the wonderful Corbett which stands over Inverie - so we turned eastwards and followed the many rises and falls of the Aonach Sgoilte.

 

With sun splitting the skies, the vast bulk of Ladhar Beinn across the corrie and mountains in every direction, it was one of the most incredible ridge walks I have ever done. In decent weather the ridges of Knoydart's great hills are simply unbeatable. Sgurr na Ciche looked suitably majestic inland, Ben Nevis away to the South is always distinctive, and out across the glistening Sound of Sleat, the Black Cuillin of Sky filled the horizon. Stunning!

At the unnamed top at 849m we stopped for a well deserved food and drink break. We could see a group which looked like our friends high up on Ladhar Beinn's summit ridge, working their way along it's rocky and bony finale. The ridge from where we sat, to where they were was steep, bouldery and involved so many great losses of gained height that Ladhar Beinn seemed to be a mountain that you had to climb twice to get up it! My wife doesn't especially enjoy scrambling (though she has done the Inn Pinn!) and didn't relish the couple of scrambly bits of Ladhar Beinn's south west ridge, but bashed up it anyway.

I couldn't help but remeber the appalling weather the last time I walked that ridge over twenty years

ago. This time, the conditions were perfect. The sun blazed (and we carefelly rationed our water supplies) while a gentle breeze blew to control the midgies. The summit of Ladhar Beinn, not only provides one of the greatest views of the West of Scotland's wild places, mountains, lochs, bays, seam glens and islands (and therefore the world's!) but must be the only place from which you can see the whole of the Knoydart penninsula from Loch Nevis to Loch Hourn. All the way in fact from heaven to hell.

We sat up there for ages - it was absolutely stunning. It was one of the finest views either of us had ever seen. In his song, "Knoydart", John Lees sang:

Knoydart mends a broken heart
Heals a tortured soul
Brings new life to tired minds
And brightens eyes that look upon
Sky, nothing but blue sky all around
Sky, nothing but blue sky
Feel the silence calling all around
All around 

The 'nothing but blue skies' line had previously jarred a little, as on my first visit here we couldn't see our feet through ther mist. But now, I understood what he meant! Marvellous.

We had a table booked at The Gathering in Inverie with our friends at 6:30, so we reluctantly had to leave Ladhar Beinn's summit - and continued down the NW ridge to the coll An Diollaid. There we turned southwest down a steep, but straightforward descent down to the floor of the glen, where a bridge in the woods, crossed the river and led to a track which took us back to Inverie. With time to spare we wandered to The Old Forge, to find it was closed for rennovations, but all our friends were sitting on the grsass by the bay - with drinks from the adjacent shop. So we joined them there before a wonderful dinner at The Gathering.

After that we just had the boat ride back to Mallaig tolook forward to the next morning. The end to an absolutelu fantastic weekend.  

Sgùrr Mòr (Loch Quoich)

Sgùrr Mòr (Loch Quoich) - the bit in the brackets distinguishes it from its namesake in Torridon's Beinn Alligin mountain, or it's almost namesake in the Fannichs, is a hard hill to get to! Apparrently it wasn't always such a difficult hill to access but became more cut-off after the completion of the Glenn Garry hydro-electrcitiy scheme which was commissioned in the 1950s and completed in 1962. It was the Loch Quoich dam which massively raised the levels of the loch, and extended its boundaries into several adjoining glens which buried the access routes under millions gallons of peaty water. The result is that access from the Loch Quoich side is now only for those who have a boat, and are willing to paddle accross the loch in search of the Northen ridges of Sgùrr Mòr.

The rest of us have to approach Sgùrr Mòr (Loch Quoich) from the south. That means driving the length of Loch Arkaig, and walking into Glen Dessary, then climbing over the Feath a Chicheannais pass into Glen Kingie, over which Sgurr Mor lies on its far side. Given the fact that the pass between the two glens has only an indistinct path, and is very boggy in places, and the road to the head of Loch Arkaig is long, narrow, steep, single-tracked with grass growing down the middle, and liable to be blocked with inexperienced camper-van drivers; it doesn't sound all that appealing. In fact nothing could be further from the truth - the road from the Commando Memorial out to Loch Arkaig is absolutely magnificent and every mile brings another surprise and delight.

Near the road end, there are countless spots for camping near the car - and my wife and I used one of these for a couple of nights to bring Sgurr Mor within easier reach. When the sun shines, and the wind blows - I can't think of a finer place to camp. It is stunningly beautiful, and very quiet. When the rain starts, there are few places to shelter, and when the wind stops and the midges rise from the heather like a dabolical plague sent to overthrow humanity; there is nothing to do but run!

So we ran, from our little camping spot, to the end of the public road at the car park and on into Glen Dessary. I'd walked further in Glen Dessary on my last visit to these hills, many years ago when I'd been on my way out to Sgurr na Ciche on the edge of Knoydart. This time though we took a northward turn at Glendessary farm and up over the peaty, wet and pathless pass into Glen Kingie. This glen is quite remarkable - a very remote and lonely glen, with no roads, tracks, or buildings other than the truly 'off the grid' bothy at Kinbreak.

Walking books are divided about the best way up to Sgurr Mor from the southern route into Glen Kingie. While they all agree that the delightful River Kingie must be forded (difficult in spate!) there they part company. Some books recommend following the stalkers path to the head of the glen, then up the long SE/NW ridge to the summit. Others suggest attacking the hill directly up it's steep, green sides - reaching the ridge just east of the summit. We took the latter option - and it was a brute of a climb, but which seemed to get us to within a few hundred feet of the summit in great time. 

The entire day we were there Sgurr Mor's summit remained hidden in a cloud that we we ascended into and descended out of. As there was nothing to see at high level, we abandonded our plans to walk the long stalkers path back to the head of the glen and instead descended from it from west of the summit, and followed a similar line to that which we had ascended. That brought us back to the refreshing waters of the Kingie - and the long slog back over rhe peaty pass, to the walk out along Glen Dessary to the camping spot. A big meal later and a glass of wine, was making for a pleasant evening by the lochside, until the rain arrived to dampen our spirits, and caused a retreat to the tent, relieved that I had also brought a good book for the trip! I finsished Sherry Turkle's, "Alone Together" before crawling into my sleeping bag. 

At last, I have also climbed a new Munro. All the climbs I have completed over the past year or so seem to have been repeats! With only two to do to complete the list, it becomes harder to actually get them done. I have only Maoile Lunndaidh and Cruach Ardrain left on my list - and so my thoughts have been turning to what I will do when I have completed the task. I could take up crochet!

Or I could seriously start bagging Corbetts. What is far more likely is that I'll do most of the Munros again with my wife. She didn't used to really like big hill days and when the kids were small she was more than content to send me off to the hills for the day. In the last three years she's got really into hillwalking and has raced to 76 Munros in no time at all. I've already made a list of favourite hills I've love to revisit with her.... Beinn Alligin, The Ring of Steall, The Buachaille, Cairntoul, Ladhar Beinn, and more. Perhaps (in the words of the Average White Band!), it might be a case of "Let's Go Round Again!"  

Return to Carn Dearg

Ah, the Monadliath! These great miles of undulating high country, of wide sculpted hills which somehow lack the 'superstar' status of the Cairngorms. No one seems to write books about these hills, or eulogise them in poetry, no Big Grey Men have chased eminent professors off their slopes, or developers pushed engineered paths or ski tows into their corries. There isn't a cafe for miles.

If you want to walk in the middle of the great interior of the Highlands, and not meet a soul, head to the Monadliath! They are hills which seem to smell of faded glory, where the clearances seem to have only happened recently and glens lie silent, where once there was life. Unlike the florishing of tourist mecca's, or what Alfred Wainwright called "the fleshpots of Aviemore", empty ruins with cold hearths exposed to the Monadliath sky sit here, West of the A9.

My wife has rarely ventured into these hills, and so with a free day to enjoy we drove to Netwonmore and up Glen Road to the little car park and walked West. Our destination was Carn Dearg, which my memory assured me was the finest of the Monadliath hills. Little seemed to have changed up Glen Banchor since I last walked these paths a decade ago. Glen Banchor looked the same, the hills looked the same and only the ruined cottages in the empty glens showed the passing of time.

It's a good old trudge northwards up the Allt Fionndrigh on a track which then climbs over into Gleann Ballach, which gives access in turn to the western flanks of Carn Dearg. The ridge from Carn Ban to Carn Dearg (945) to Carn Macoul is probably the closest thing to a ridge walk in this part of the world, and the views down into Loch Dubh below Carn Dearg's western flanks is particuarly lovely. We dropped down westwards from the ridge to intersect the path that goes up to the lochan - a path which it must be said is clearer on the OS Map than on the ground!

This led us down Gleann Lochain and into Glen Banchor for our walk back to the car. Strangely for the end of May, the temperature dropped dramatically as we walked back, past a ruined cottage and along by the charming river to the car and to home. The busyness and noise of the A9, with its buses, trucks and average speed cameras seemed to come from a different century to lonely Gleann Lochain. 

Carn Dearg is not Lochnagar, or the Buachaille, or Cairngorm - and is all the better for it. If you want to walk all day, from a free car park - and enjoy complete solitude, then the Monadliath awaits! 

Return to Meall Chuaich

It's well over twenty years since I have been up this rather neglected Munro. After the experience I had back then, it's perhaps surprising that I ever went back at all! While I have three Munros left to do to complete my round, they are all in awkward places requiring overnight stays and so I never seem to quite manage to get up to the far north to do them! On the other hand, my wife is up to around 75 hills ticked off on her list, which means that there are always loads to choose from, within easy reach of our home in Perth. To be honest, we often just reclimb old favourites, and I could have completed the munros a long time ago if I hadn't been up Bern Vorlich at Loch Earn countless times, for example! 

Picking hills to re-ascend is interesting because the ones that grab my attention are those in two extreme categories; the first are memories of incredible days which I would love to relive (like climbing Beinn Alligin in blazing sunshine with the (long-since emigrated) Percy Cowpat. The other extreme are hills on which the weather was so dreadful that I saw nothing, and got cold, wet and grumpy. These hills, it seems to me, should be given an opportunity to redeem themselves for they cannot be held responsible for the weather!

Meall Chuaich (spellings of this hill vary, the OS maps render it differently on the 1:50000 and 1:25000 sheets), is worth reclimbing for the latter of these two reasons. It was before my oldest son was born that I climbed this hill, with David - a pal from Dundee days. He was optimisic that the abysmal forecast was too pessimistic and that we'd get a clear hour or two.... but his optimism was entirely misplaced. His wide didn't join us that daym because she was suffering from plantar fasciitis, and had by far the better day back home nursing her sore foot! We bagan our day cheerfully enough, but spent the latter half of it wrapped up in thermal layers and Goretex, trudging wearily through driving rain. Strangely I don't remember much else about Meall Cuaich! The last I heard, David had emigrated to work somewhere in the Middle East. I'm not saying that the weather was what drove him from the Highlands of Scotland, but perhaps that day in Meall Chuaich was the final straw. 

At the start of this year's walking, my wife and I have been out and about in Perthshire, enjoying some of the lower hills like Birnam and Obney. We especially like the silence, lonliness and wide views from Obney Hill, and had been up that the day before. But she's keen to get Munro-ing again, so a re-visit to Meall Chuaich was in order for me - and an easy start to the year's +3000footer's.

The Dalwhinnie Distillery is a famous landmark on the A9, where the Laggan Road from the West Coast meets the main North-South route. Apparently the distilling tradition here goes back centuries to a time when drovers would trade cattle in these parts. The international drinks conglomerate Diageo continue some of that tradition today, although malting and bottling isn't done here anymore. However a dram of Dalwhinnie 15yo Single Malt is a very acceptable way to end a day in the hills. Light, heathery and honeyed, Dalwhinnie was the malt that converted me into being a whisky drinker when I was young. My first taste of malt whisky was a neat Oban - and I couldn't understand why people liked it at all. Now, I can't imagine not loving the tongue-warming smokiness of a fine malt.

The route up Meall Chuaich begins just after the famous distillery. The highways people have recently taken to numbering the layby's which is very helpful and to start this particular walk you want #94 on the South bound side btw. Many years ago while climbing the two other Munros on the east side of the Drumochter Pass, I had a navigational nightmare which began because I started in the wrong layby and nothing made any sense! According to my very old OS map, I was to start by a phone box - which I did. But either the OS made a rare mistake, or BT had moved their phone! Either way, it was only when I got to the top and surveyed the whole scene that the problem became obvious and the dilemma solved!

No such problems faced us starting at Layby #94, and walking a hundred yards North and taking the bulldozed track east into the moors, and turning left and following the concrete hydro-aqueduct up the glen, almost to the foot of the hill. Despite having to scrape ice from the car in Perth, the sun was shining and warming the earth as we walked past the turbine house and up towards the dam. Heather fires were burning in various parts of the landscape, and there were plenty of grouse running about in the heather too. 

Turning right just before the dam and loch, we turned east again and followed the track to a bridge over the river after which a footpath struck steeply into the sides of the hill. It's quite a hard pull up in places, but the views open up, and up and up - in all directions as you ascend. Hillwalking books are somewhat dismissive of the merits of Meall Chuaich as a hill, but all rightly note that the views it provides are impressive. After a long slog, and few bogs to hop, a large flat topped hill is reached, capped by a massive cairn - which was hard to find in poor visibility last time but was visible from miles away this!

The gleaming white distillery was clearly visible to the SW, in front of a wonderful view down Loch Erivcht into the Ben Alder group of mountains - still clearly snow-capped. Then, the magnificent Creag Meagaidh on the Laggan Rd looked massive, and it's famous "window" still holding a lot of snow and looking very hard to climb. The villages of Kingussie and Newtonmore mark the route of the A9 North, and the Monadliath Hills looks great from up there too. Only when you reach the summit do the central Cairngorm Mountains come into view. Being a thousand foot or more higher than the other hills, these high plateaus still had a look of Arctic tundra about them. 

With a chill wind picking up, after the obligatory summit photos (including a nice one of my wife and I, taken by the only walker we set eyes on all day), we headed back the way we came, Once out of the wind, down by a locked bothy, we finished the flask of hot coffee and tore into the huge slab of Fruit and Nut we'd got left from our lunch - before the hour long walk back alongside the aqueduct.

To kick off a year in the bigger hills, this was a wonderful start! 4 hours of walking, a good workout on the climb, and views to savour for a long time. The aim for the year for me, is to do some (if not all) of the elusive three munros I have left. My wife hopes to get from 75 up to 100. With the kids now being self-sufficient, its easier to get away to the hills together than it ever was. I just wish I had the knees I had when I was 30!

The Strathfarrar Quartet

There is really is something wonderful about the vast area of wild land that lies between Inverness and Kyle of Lochalsh. The roads, and railway lines don't take a direct route between these two places, but splay to the North and South - leaving a huge area with no East-West route, containing great lochs (Affric, Mullardoch and Monar) interspersed with ridges of mountains in chains, with complex Gaelic names. Years ago we relied on Sorley MacLean's contributions to The Munro Show, that terrific little TV show about hillwalking presented by the equally terrific little Muriel Gray - to pronounce and translate the hill names. Now we have walkhighlands, and the little arrow you can press to achieve the same result.

Glen Affric can be driven down a bit, Mullardoch is blocked by a vast dam, and Glen Strathfarrar is all within a private estate - who only let a few cars drive down every day. When we arrived at 8:30AM a small queue was already forming in the little carpark, as there is a strict limit of 25 cars/day allowed in. I asked the woman at the gate if there was anywhere I should park in the glen (ie to avoid getting in anyone's way) she bluntly replied, "If you don't know where you are going, don't come!" Interesting!

The glen is uttserly beautiful. I suppose I resented the gate and the rigmarol and not being able to make an early start and get up onto the ridges before the sun got really hot! Nevertheless, my wife and I found a lay-by just after Loch Beannacharan and took the path North into the hills. The path is wet and slimy, once the track ends, but it curves N/E and leads all the way to the summit of Sgurr na Ruaidhe (the Peak of redness). In escalating temperatures - and with heavy packs, this was a gruelling ascent! We were carrying too much kit for the weather - but after our misadventures on Lurg Mohr the previous day, we weren't taling any chances!

Once on the first peak, what opens out in front of the walker is a magnificent lofty walk over four wonderful peaks, four of which claim Munro status. On a clear day no real navigation is required, the hills in front of you look exactly as they ought to, on the OS map! Paths are not clear though, especially across boulder-fields where it would be easy to get lost in bad weather. We didn't face that obstacle however - but the threat of dehydration and sunburn! Sgurr Fuar-thuill, Sgurr a'Choire Ghlais, Carn nan Gobhar are a great walk, with the highest peak, Sgurr a'Choire Ghlais, being the finest of them.

The fact that the wretched gate closes at 8PM in June meant that we couldn't hang around on the tops for long but had to keep moving - a little frustrating on such a beautiful day! Beyond the final munro a good stalkers path leads off the ridge and all the way back to the glen floor and a very long wakl back along the tarmac road to the car.

At which point it occured to us that the wretched gat emight not have been so bad after all. Open access would have meant a stream of cars, picknickers, litter and noise. As it was, we had the place to ourselves. The day was a long, hot slog - but sitting with boots off, at the car, brewing up a good coffee on the Aeropress - was a grand feeling indeed!

Lurg Mhòr and Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich, from Attadale via Bendronaig Lodge

As Munroing expeditions in Scotland go - this is one of the most awkward. Not because it contains any technical scrambles, unfordable rivers or somme-like bogs; but because it is just so far from the road. we did the traditional route, from Attadale where the entrance to the gardens contains a walkers car park, all the way to the lonely Bendronaig lodge. The rather brutal looking bulldozed track makes for speedy access to the hills too.

"Never leave your ruacksack at the bealach!" were words I wished that I had heeded on our first evening. After pitching our tents on a lovely grassy platform by the river we went for a quick blast round the two Munros in glorious weather. Heading east to the loch, then turning North up to the bealach between the two hills we dumped our packs at the bealach and took minimal gear to the top. Big mistake! Tired from lugging big packs all the way into the wild we were perhaps a little too keen to shed weight. We were caught first by hail, then by rain which lashed us constantly.

The rest of the walk back to the tents was a bit miserable. I got really cold, but thankfully my walking companions threw hot food and coffee down me and sent me to my sleeping bag!

The next morning we had a wonderful walk out in glorious weather - pleased to have gained these remotest of summits. But also thinking we might have learned a lesson about mountain safety. And my wife is right - I need a warmer sleeping bag.

Gairich

On the south side of Loch Quoich lies the wonderful mountain of Gairich. Last week we were on North side of the loch from where it looks irresistible - and so went back this weekend to have a crack it it!

There's plenty of parking around the Loch Quoich dam (spelt Loch Cuaich on many maps) and access to these hills from the dam itself, where a footpath leads over the great concrete wall. Once over the all, an obvious footpath leads southwards into the boggy margins of the loch. Every Muro I have left seems to have some obstacle of difficulty, and horrible reports of people wading through, or sinking into soggy peat hags has been the reason that I have never done this hill! In practice however, though it was very damp in places - at no opint was it impassible or even that difficult. Progress over the soggy-miles was slower than on the engineered paths through the Cairngorms, for example.

Although the path is soggy in places there is a least a path, which a forest where several paths meet - and from which one takes to the long East Ridge of Gairich. It clims steadily over several miles, with the steep cliffs of the summit looking ominously as they range into view ahead. As these cmoe closer it is hard to picture which way to go up, however when you get the foot of the final pull up, it becomes obvious. A path goes straight ahead, which zig-zags up the face, before turning in to a series of exposed terracesm and then a couple of srambles onto a surprisngly broad summit, from which the views are exhilirating. Knoydart, Dessary, South Glenshiel, and more!

The ascent took 2 and a half hours. The route back is the same as the way up but took slightly longer as it was wet and slippy in places. It's a wonderful drive in and out of the Glen too!