Fifty years ago Chris Bonington led the first expedition to climb the South West Face of Everest, a phenomenal achievement. A year later he published his account of the ascent, also a phenomenal achievement, given the time scale. I'm in awe of the skill and commitment needed on the mountain - I've done just enough low level snow and ice climbing to have at least a bit of a grasp of what's involved - and as a writer myself impressed at Bonington's ability to produce such a good book so quickly.
I first read Everest The Hard Way in 1977. I still have the copy I bought - it's pictured above - but I hadn't looked at it in many years. Back then I hadn't done any mountaineering at all and was still a fairly inexperienced backpacker. The world of Himalayan climbing seemed incredible. I marvelled at the dangers, effort, and sheer determination involved. I couldn't imagine how anyone did this.
Reading the anniversary edition of the book - a fine hardback - I'm also impressed at the complex organisation needed for the expedition to succeed, in itself a phenomenal achievement by Chris Bonington. So much planning, so many decisions, so much to keep track of, so much to co-ordinate. The section on this in the appendices is just mind-blowing! Detailed formulas for loads and rest rates, charts for movement on the mountain, and more. An incredible amount of work.
Back in 1977 I read the book as a gripping adventure story. I suspect the organisational side went over my head - I wanted to know about the actual climbing, the excitement, the danger, the camping, the near misses, the disasters. And that is still the heart of the book and thrillingly told. Now though I can admire the writing skill as well, the way Bonington tells the story, the way he weaves in excerpts from the diaries and writings of members of the team, including criticism of himself at times, and makes the book about them all.
This is a mountaineering classic about one of the most significant ascents in climbing history. I'm glad I've read it again and I certainly recommend it to anyone interested in excellent outdoor literature.
View across Strathspey to the Cairngorms from the Burma Road
Brew Dog’s ‘Lost Forest’, aka the Kinrara Estate, is no
more. Last month it was sold to Oxygen Conservation. Brew Dog’s disastrous
attempt at estate management is over. Will Oxygen Conservation be any better? That
remains to be seen. So far all it has done is put up an attractive video and
some nice pictures on its website
along with some fine-sounding words.
Nick Kempe of Parkswatch Scotland, who has done detailed
analyses of Brew Dog’s botched scheme, doesn’t have any faith in Oxygen
Conservation being much, if any, better, as he says here.
I hope he’s wrong but fear he’s right. Brew Dog started with fine words too.
What is needed is some detailed planning.
A comfortable camp in wind and rain
I go walking at Kinrara regularly as it’s not that far away
and I’ve written a number of posts about my trips, the most recent being in June,
and have looked at what Brew Dog has done to the land. My most recent trip, and
the first since Oxygen Conservation took over, was an overnight one on a wet
and windy late autumn weekend. Just a month after the new owners took over I
wasn’t expecting to see any changes.
Autumn colours along the lower Burma Road
There was still much colour in the trees along the lower
reaches of the glen as I walked up the estate track known as the Burma Road.
Higher up, as the scattered old pines grew fewer, the scene was one of boggy
heather moorland. In places I could see tiny planted pines poking up. More dominant
were the long high fences Brew Dog has erected to keep deer out of the new
trees and the many new and ugly muddy bulldozed tracks.
Not so pretty
At the crest of the road rain began. I descended towards the
River Dulnain intent on stopping at the first reasonable site for a tent I
found. This proved to be by the Allt Fionnaich (the stream of clear water).
Soon I was inside my little shelter drinking warming hot chocolate. Outside the
sky was grey, the cloud low over the hills.
A windy morning
I woke once during the night. A bright moon shone into the
tent and there were stars. It didn’t last. At dawn the sky was a sheet of
dullness. A wind rattled the tent, flicking condensation off the flysheet. I
had thought of heading over Geal-charn Mor, at 824-metres the highest hill in
the area, but the clouds wrapping the summit didn’t look attractive and the
wind would be much stronger up there so I decided on a lower hill, a minor bump
called Cnoc Beag (appropriately, it means ‘little knoll’. At 528-metres it’s
actually lower than the top of the Burma Road at 690-metres, which I crossed
twice, so that was the high point of the walk.
The old track up Cnoc Beag with the River Dulnain in the distance
The Burma Road led across the lower slopes of the hill. I
left it for an old track up the broad north-east ridge that was fading into the
heather and hadn’t seen a vehicle in a long time. To the side I could see unnatural-looking
lines of disturbed earth where trees had been planted and a long fence that
looked as though it would cut across my path just beyond where the track ended.
It did but there was a gate. Before BrewDog put up these fences – which wouldn’t
be needed if deer numbers were reduced - one of the joys of the area was the
vast open space where you could wander at will. This was especially so when
there was snow as it was superb for ski touring.
Plantings & fence
The fences didn’t appear to be keeping out the deer anyway.
I had heard stags roaring earlier. Once through the gate and on the same side
of the fence as the plantings I saw four hinds and noted many droppings and
tracks. Maybe somebody left a gate open. (I didn’t!)
A welcome gate
Not far beyond the fence I hope to pick up a path shown on
the map as running from the River Dulnain and across the steep northern slopes
of Geal-charn Mor to the high point of the Burma Road. I did find the path but
it was just an indentation in the heather and soon vanished into boggy ground.
Heavy rain started falling. The wind grew stronger. The going was slow and
rough, all tussocks and holes. Eventually I gave up trying to follow the line
of the path and took a direct route to the Burma Road. There were some streams
to ford. My feet were soaked anyway.
The faint line of the 'path' before it disappeared completely
Relieved to reach the smooth road I speeded up and soon felt
warmer. As I crossed the high point four runners came up towards me, the only
people I saw all trip. One was in shorts. Just the sight made me shiver.
Back to the view across Strathspey to the cloud-capped Cairngorms
Lower down I could again gaze across colourful bracken and
woods to dramatic clouds swirling round the Cairngorms.
I made a little video of the trip. Much shorter than I intended due to the wind and rain.
Kinrara is Oxygen Conservation’s second estate in
Strathspey. Earlier in the year it bought the Dorback Estate further to the
north-east, where there is another Geal Charn. I went for a walk
there in March. I must go back to see what, if anything, Oxygen
Conservation has done.
The December issue of TGO is out now. I've some gear reviews this month. Firstly a detailed look at the Primus Micron III stove. Then a review of the Rab Neutrino Pro 700 sleeping bag, which I tested extensively last winter, as Lucy Wallace did with the Mammut Women's Perform Down Bag -10C. Lastly there's a mats feature in which I review 3 mats as does Steph Wetherall.
Also in the gear pages James Roddie reviews six 2-person and group tents, Fiona Russell tests the Compressport Full Legs Recovery 2.0 tights, and Kirsty Pallas praises her indestructible Patagonia R1 fleece in The Long Review.
Gear also features in a big photo essay by Max Leonard and Henry Iddon based on their book Mountain Style, which is wonderful and highly recommended (disclaimer: I did write the Intro).
In other big features Hanna Lindon takes a stroll through 4 billion years of geology in the British hills and Isa Taylor discovers a network of trails in the Sierra de la Serrella not far from Alicante.
The annual Winters Skills Special returns this month with advice and tips from Glenmore Lodge.
In shorter pieces Nadia Shaikh honours the red fox, I review Nicola Hardy's Peak Bagging Munros Volume 1, conservationist Dave Sexton describes his life, Jim Perrin revisits Moelfre in the Rhinogydd, and Juls Stodel writes about modern mountain legends and stories.
In Wild Walks the writers describe favourite winter hill walks. Roger Butler goes up Gleouraich and Spidean Mialach in the West Highlands. Ian Battersby covers two walks in the North Pennines, Collier Law and Fatherley Hill and then Burnhope Hill. Vivenne Crow has a pair too, over in the Lake District - High Raise via Greenup Gill and Stybarrow Dodd. Also in the Lakes James Forrest does the Newlands Round and Norman Hadley climbs Helvellyn and Catsye Cam.
As we enter the darkest part of the year a headlamp or torch
becomes an even more important part of a walker’s equipment. ‘Even more’ because
I think one is essential at any time, though in high summer a tiny one may
suffice. But once there are more hours of dark than light then the chances of
needing artificial light grow greatly. Walks may start or, more usually in my
case, finish in the dark. On overnight trips I often make camp in the dark and
then start the day in the dark, at least as far as coffee and breakfast goes.
Choosing a headlamp or torch from the myriad available can
be difficult. I think there are a couple of heavily promoted features that
don’t help. In fact they can be misleading. These are power, measured in
lumens, and battery life. More lumens, more light! This must be good, mustn’t
it? With many headlamps the answer is no. How many lumens do you actually need.
Is lighting up the whole mountainside necessary? I think 100 to 400 lumens is
ample for hillwalking.
Power and battery life are related. Look at the battery life
for the highest lumens and it’s usually short, sometimes very short. If you
want your light to last it’s best not to use that setting, except for the
occasional brief moment when you really need to see far ahead.
Conversely some headlamps are promoted as having very long
battery life. And they do, as long as you’re happy with light that barely
illuminates the inside of a tent.
The Petzl Iko Core
With any headlamp it’s best to check the details and ignore
the headline promotion. How long should the battery last at different power
settings. How many lumens does the setting with the longest battery life
actually provide. I think anything under 20 lumens is only suitable for
close-up use such as in a tent. Under 10 lumens isn’t even adequate for that.
The light might last 100 hours but that’s not helpful if you can’t see much. At
the other end of the spectrum a light with 750 lumens of more is great for
seeing everything but if the battery only lasts an hour at this setting you’d
better not need it for long.
I think that the best setting is in the middle, which may be
boring for promotional purposes but makes sense for actual use. That’s around
100 to 300 lumens , which gives a battery life with the lights I review here of
3 to 19 hours. The difference is due to the battery capacity. Higher capacity batteries
last longer but mean heavier headlamps.
Whilst headlamps that only run on non-rechargeable batteries
are still available most now have rechargeable ones, including all those
reviewed. Some can also run on non-rechargeables, which can be useful.
Carrying a power bank to recharge headlamps makes sense on overnight
and longer trips. I also carry two headlamps. It’s much easier to swap them
over if a battery fails than change batteries or attach a charger. Also, when
camping, one can be used to light the tent while you wander off to take photographs
of the camp under the stars.
There are a myriad headlamps and torches available. Here I’m
going to review two I’ve been testing recently and take a briefer look at five
that have been my most used in recent years.
Notes: All weights are with batteries and from my digital
scales. Battery life is from the brands specifications. My usage suggests these
are roughly accurate.
If you buy from the Amazon links I receive 2-5%
commission. Clicking then finding your own items within 24 hours also helps but
with a much smaller commission. Every click helps! Thank you if you do purchase
something via one of my links.
This little torch has reminded me that handheld ones do have
some advantages over headlamps. In particular it’s easy to point the light in
any direction you want. Walking in the woods I’ve also rediscovered that a
light held at waist level gives better depth of field than one on your head. The
last is not that significant – I’ve walked with a headlamp in rough terrain
many, many times, but it is there. And of course you can always hold a headlamp
in your hand. It doesn’t have to be on your head.
The P5R is 125mm long and fits comfortably in my hand. It
weighs 100g, which is on the weighty side for a small torch. It does feel
sturdy however and is made from 75% recycled aluminium. It’s also dust and
water resistant.
It’s powered by a rechargeable battery that can be replaced
with an AA battery if necessary. The battery can be recharged in situ via a
concealed USB-C port.
The headline power output is 750 lumens. However this is a boost
mode intended for short bursts of light only. The highest other power setting
is 350 lumens and that only lasts an hour. Mid power of 100 lumens lasts 4
hours and low power of 25 lumens for 20 hours. Mid power is the one I’ve used
most.
There are just two controls, which makes it simple to use. Button
presses cycle through the power settings while a twist of the lamp housing
changes the beam from spot to flood and back. The latter is stepless so you can
have anything between the two.
I’ve enjoyed using the P5R for short local walks when I’m
not using trekking poles and I’m not going to be out in the dark for many
hours. I wouldn’t use it in place of a headlamp though or for long winter night
walks. It is quite expensive for a small torch, but it should last well.
Silva’s latest headlamp is small and light and has an
unusual design. Rather than the lamp and battery pack tilting forward together,
as on most headlamps, just the lamp tilts via hinges attached to the base of
the battery pack. This has the advantage that it doesn’t pull the headband down.
The lamp clicks onto the battery to form a complete unit. To separate them a
thin bar on the lamp has to be pushed forward. This is easy enough in the light
with warm hands but I found it awkward in the dark with cold hands and almost
impossible with gloves on.
The Seek 450 has a rechargeable battery with s USB-C port. In the 450 lumen maximum power mode it lasts 3
hours, in the medium 200 lumen mode 6 hours, and in the super-low 10 lumen mode
90 hours. The last is just about usable for reading in a tent. The medium mode
is the most useful and fine for walking in the dark and pitching a tent.
The Seek has what Silva call Intelligent Light, which means
a combined spot and flood beam. Using it is simple. A series of presses cycles
through the three modes with a longer one switching it off. There’s a red light
too, turned on with a long press when the light is off.
The Seek is lightweight at 72g. It’s made from recycled
plastic. The stretch headband is wider and more comfortable than many. It has
strips of grippy material inside that help stop it slipping and is easily
adjustable with two low-profile buckles.
I think this is a good little headlamp for most purposes. I
just wish it was easier to tilt the lamp.
My favourite headlamp for the last few years but not because
of the actual light, which is okay but nothing special, but because of the
headband, which is by far the most comfortable I’ve ever used. It’s thin and
flexible, sits on the head without needing to be too tight, and adjusts to
hoods and hats without any alteration. I think it’s brilliant! The Iko Core
also balances well as the battery is at the back. The latter is Petzl’s
rechargeable Core battery. Three AAA batteries can also be used.
The lamp unit is tiny. There are just three settings, low,
standard, and maximum. No flood or spot option, no red light, neither of which
I miss. The low mode isn’t much use as it’s just 6 lumens, though it does last
100 hours, so effectively there are just two modes. The standard one is 100
lumens, just adequate for most uses. It lasts 9 hours, which is good. The brightest
mode is 500 lumens. This lasts 2.5 hours. I wish there was a 200 lumens setting
between standard and high. Overall the battery life is okay. The Iko Core
weighs 81g.
This is the headlamp I use on trips where I expect to need a
bright light for many hours. At 250 lumens it lasts 19 hours, at 500 lumens 7
hours. This is excellent, especially as the Storm only weighs 102g. It’s also
quite compact. There are flood and spot options plus red, green, and blue
lights. Two buttons cycle through the options, one of which is a little small
for use with gloves, my only complaint about this headlamp.
The damage to my headlamp occurred when it touched a hot stove. Plastic melts. Keep it away from hot things! Luckily I pulled it away quickly and it still works fine.
Petzl’s reactive lighting adjusts the intensity and spread
of the beam depending on where you look. This works really well with the Swift
RL and means that battery life depends on how you use it. The maximum burn time
gives 10-70 hours at 18-100 lumens, the standard setting gives 25 to 275 lumens
and lasts 7 to 45 hours. I mostly use the first, switching to the second if I
need a brighter light. The most powerful setting goes from 30 to an extremely
bright 1100 lumens, with a run time of 2 to 35 hours. I’ve only used this to
see what it was like!
I really like reactive lighting. It’s great not having to use
buttons. I think I should use this headlamp more! It weighs 104g and is compact
and comfortable to wear.
This serves the opposite purpose to the Storm. It’s the
headlamp I take when I don’t expect to need one or for short periods of time. It’s
tiny and very light at 35g. It still has a maximum output of 200 lumens but
this only lasts 2 hours. At 100 lumens the battery lasts 3 hours. This is fine
for high summer when there aren’t many hours of darkness.
A lighter version of the Storm, the 71g Spot has better than
average battery life, lasting 8 hours at 200 lumens and 4 hours at the maximum
400 lumens. It has the same buttons as the Storm, and so the same difficulty
with gloves on, plus the same spot and flood modes.
I’ve also made a video about these lights.
You can find more detailed reviews by myself and others of
some of these lights plus others on the TGO website.
A few months ago I was interviewed by Feargus Cooney for this YouTube channel. We discussed getting into wilderness travel in the 1970’s, safety concerns, what the word and the idea of ‘wilderness’ actually means, rewilding, native forests, outdoor influencers and safety and various other subjects.
Glen Affric in autumn is glorious. Actually, Glen Affric is
always glorious, but it’s especially so in autumn due to the colours of the trees
and grasses. Mists often drift round the peaks and the sun is lower than in
summer, giving wonderful side lighting.
View along Glen Affric at the start
This year my autumn visit
was a three-night trip in the company of Tony Hobbs and his dog Bella. Starting late one
afternoon we walked along the Affric Kintail Way for a few kilometres until we
found a grassy spot to camp just as it grew dark. The sky was overcast but the
colours of the birches were deep and rich.
Tony in the undergrowth
The sky was still cloudy at dawn but there were hints of
blue and bursts of sunshine as we started up the steep narrow overgrown path beside
the rushing waters of the Allt Garbh. At times the dense undergrowth of
bracken, heather and saplings gave the ascent a jungle-like feel.
Out in the open
The sky began to clear as we climbed out of the trees and the
views opened up. The light was lovely. It didn’t last though and the sky was
overcast again as we turned into the upper glen. Our intended hill for the day,
Aonach Shasuinn, was shrouded in dark cloud and the steep climb into the clag
didn’t look appealing. Staying in the light seemed more attractive so we
continued up the glen, hoping to find somewhere to camp at its head.
Bursts of sunshine
We didn’t get that far. The path became an estate track, the
estate track disintegrated into a boggy mess. Somewhere I tweaked a calf muscle
and was limping painfully so when Tony pointed to a large flat grassy area down
by the river and thought we should camp there I didn’t disagree and we were
soon pitching our tents.
Relaxing in camp
There was no wind and it wasn’t very cold so we sat outside
watching the clouds and the hills and listening to stags roaring on the
hillsides, the sound of autumn. The night was chilly though, the temperature
falling to just below freezing, as it had the night before.
Red sky in the morning
Dawn came with a fiery sky but by the time we were packing
up it was overcast again, the tops hidden. Rather than continue up to the head
of the glen we decided to make a rising traverse to the low point on the ridge
that lay above our camp. The way up was rough, steep, and boggy, and not good
for my sore calf so I was glad when we reached the top. It was enough climbing
for me for the day.
Bella & Tony on the tough ascent
A cold breeze swept the ridge so we dropped down a little
way searching for somewhere calm and not too boggy to sit for a while,
eventually settling on a lovely, dry, gently sloping, striped rock. The view
out over Glen Affric to the big hills on the far side was spectacular even
though the clouds remained down on the tops.
We recorded a little video chat while
we were there.
Not far from our rock we picked up a steep path that led
down into Glen Affric. This path was ingeniously designed, zigzagging across
the slope, and curving round little cliffs, to take the sting out of what could
be a challenging descent. I love paths like this! They feel almost a natural
part of the landscape, fitting into its shape and contours. They’re hard to see
from any distance and leave as little mark as it’s possible for a path to do.
Tony on the path down
My delight in the path distracted me from my sore calf and
as we descended further distraction came from the skies clearing to cast a
wonderful light over the mountains, the glen, and the lochs. It was
magnificent.
Clearing skies, glowing landscape
The lower section of the path was muddy and slippery and I
had to concentrate or my feet rather than the views. Even so without my
trekking poles I’d have been on my backside a few times. Once we reached the
wide track of the Affric Kintail Way the tough walking was over and we could
admire the autumn colours.
Glen Affric from the lower part of the descent
We had hoped to camp soon after reaching the glen but found
nowhere suitable until we were back where we’d been two nights before. It was a
good site so we were happy to stay here again.
Last morning
Overnight the weather changed, a change we knew was
forecast. I was woken in the dark by rain rattling on the tent. It was still
coming down at dawn. The pressure had fallen 18mb since the previous morning.
The temperature had been 1°C at 1.30 a.m. An hour later it was 4°, by dawn 7°. A rapid change.
Packing up in the rain
We packed up and walked back to the car in the rain. The
colours of the woods were still wonderful, the clouds wreathing the summits
mysterious. We hadn’t climbed the hills we had intended but that wasn’t the
real reason we were there. Immersing ourselves in nature and experiencing the
beauty of Glen Affric in autumn was what mattered and we had done that.
The November issue of TGO sees the start of a new gear spot in conjunction with Nikwax in which reviewers describe their long-term gear favourites and how they care for them to ensure they last. I begin the series with some favourite boots, Brasher Hillmasters, now over twelve years old and still going strong.
Also in the gear pages David Lintern reviews the Jottnar Asger HS fleece and Steph Wetherell reviews the Osprey Tempest 33 Extended Fit Pack. In comparative reviews Pete Macfarlane reviews four stoves, Kirsty Pallas and Alex Roddie review three midlayers each, and Steph Wetherell and James Roddie three pairs of three-season gloves each.
The opening spread is a wonderful photo by Lizzie Shepherd of twisted birch trees in autumn in Inshriach in the Cairngorms.
In the main features Norman Hadley tells an astonishing tale of a navigational error on the Cairngorm Plateau in winter. Five artists, writers and musicians talk about the ways they take inspiration from the outdoors. Phoebe Smith climbs Mt.Kinabalu on Borneo and learns about its place in the culture of the indigenous Dusan people.
This issue is 2025's TGO Challenge one and there are stories of this years event from many participants.
In the skills section Alex Roddie sharpens up his map and compass skills on an Austrian Alpine Club - organised course in Eryri.
In the regular columns Nadia Shaikh describes hoar frost in On The Lookout; Stew Hume reviews And So I Run by Jamie Doward; Sunny Huang, who recently completed her second round of all 1124 UK hills on the Scottish Mountaineering Club register, describes her extraordinary life; Jim Perrin covers the Fiacaill Couloir, a winter climb in the Cairngorms, as his Mountain Portrait; and Juls Stobel gives advice on how to get teenagers into hillwalking in Uphill Struggles.
Wild Walks covers short trails and sections of longer trails that can be walked in a day or less. in Scotland Stefan Durkacz walks the Dava Way from Grantown-on-Spey to Forres. Vivienne Crow walks the Great Whin Sill in Northumberland, where the Pennine Way and Hadrian's Wall Path unite. In the North York Moors Ian Battersby walks Cringle Moor and Round Hill on the Cleveland Way. Over in the Lake District James Forrest goes from Rosthwaite to Grasmere on the Coast to Coast path while in Wales Andrew Galloway goes from Llanfairfechan to Conwy on the North Wales Path. Further south in Herefordshire Roger Butler climbs Bradnor Hill and Herrock Hill on the Offa's Dyke Path. Finally way down in Sussex Alex Roddie visits Cuckmere Haven and Seven Sisters on the South Downs Way.
Camp in the pines, Meall a' Bhuachaille in the distance
Meall a’Bhuachaille is a familiar hill that I climb several
times a year. It’s ideal for a half-day walk. It’s great for taking up visitors
who don’t have enough time for a full day out. It’s excellent when the higher
Cairngorms look unpleasantly stormy. The views from the summit are excellent.
The walk-in past An Lochain Uaine through the woods of Ryvoan Pass is lovely.
However although it is a familiar hill there’s a side I didn’t
know, a side I’d never even visited, the north side facing Abernethy Forest. I’ve
seen this from afar, looked across it from the track from Ryvoan Pass to Nethy
Bridge. Long brown heathery slopes split by burns. Moderately steep in places.
Not much sign of trees. Untracked. Like many other hillsides in fact. Not
exciting, nothing outstanding. But what was it actually like to be there, to
walk there? Places are always more individual, more interesting when you set
foot on them.
An Lochan Uaine
So on a late September day I finally decided it was time to
go and have a look. The forecast was for showers and a gusty wind with maybe
some sunshine, which sounded fine for a walk that didn’t go very high, though I
thought I might finish on Meall a’ Buachaille itself. Walking through Ryvoan
Pass the air was warm and humid, my jacket soon in the pack. An Lochan Uaine
was blue, white, and green, reflecting sky, clouds and trees. The water was
still low despite some recent rain.
Lochan a' Chait
Leaving the thicker forest I soon caught the wind, though it
wasn’t very cold. The clouds began to clear. At Lochan a’Chait reeds were
bending in the breeze. Across the water the tops at the end of Cairn Gorm’s
north ridge, Mam Suim and Stac na h-Iolaire, and beyond them higher Bynack More
glowed in the afternoon sun.
A squall in the distance
I’d spotted a faint path on the map that led north-east from the main track in the direction I wanted
to go, at least at first. This turned out to be a narrow trod, easily missed,
leading through deep vegetation. A sign warned that there were cattle here,
brought in by the RSPB, whose land this is, to help break up the ground and
trample the heather so more varied vegetation can grow.
Stone walls & Bynack More
I followed the old path past the low stone walls of a former
shieling to more stone walls on a low rise amongst big old larch trees. There
had been several buildings here at one time. Cattle were grazing nearby. A
touch of rain fell. I could see squalls in the distance and twice short bits of
rainbows. The evening light was glorious.
A touch of rainbow
Beyond the old settlement the path became indistinct and
hard to follow and the walking was much harder as I waded through thick deep
heather and bunches of tall reeds. I headed towards the Allt Mullach, the
stream that ran down from the col between Meall a’Bhuachaille and Creagan Gorm,
hoping to camp at the point where the slopes started to steepen. The terrain
did not look promising though, very rough with big tussocks and dense
vegetation. Walking became even harder. Progress slowed.
Another touch of rainbow
An old rough ATV track appeared and made the going easier
for a while. I reached the Allt Mullach. There was nowhere for a half-decent
camp. Going up meant steeper ground so I followed the burn down to a small rise
with a scattering of old pines. The four hundred metres or so took me half an
hour. There were young trees amongst the big ones. This grove is renewing itself.
It took a while wandering amongst the pines before I found a
small mossy spot that looked just big enough. In wetter times it would probably
be too boggy for a camp but it would do for this night. I pitched the tent just
as the light faded.
Relaxing in camp
The wind dropped and the clouds cleared. The temperature
fell to zero. There was dew on the flysheet and condensation inside at dawn. The
sun soon warmed the tent and I moved outside to sit in the bright light and
enjoy the quiet of the trees over a mug of coffee. I’d slept well and this was a
peaceful relaxing spot. Beyond the pines I could mist in Strathspey. It looked grey and damp down there.
Mist in Strathspey
Moving on was not relaxing though. It was tough and arduous.
I headed back beside the little stream and up the slopes towards the col. In
places remnants of old ATV tracks eased the walking but mostly it was a thrash
through deep heather and reeds with tussocks and deep holes everywhere. Some of
the vegetation was chest deep. At one point the tips of reeds were pricking my
chin. I could rarely see where I was putting my feet. Terrain doesn’t come much
tougher than this.
The clouds begin to close in over Meall a' Bhuachaille
There were a few old birches on the hillside and rather more
tiny saplings just poking through the heather. Now grazing pressure has been removed
the forest is slowly returning.
A grizzled old birch
The early morning sun soon faded as thick grey clouds moved
in from the west. At the col the wind was strong. I wouldn’t go up Meall a’ Bhuachaille.
Instead I followed the path down to Glenmore, relishing the sudden ease of
walking. I’d experienced the north side of Meall a’ Bhuachaille closely and
enjoyed solitude in an area few people go despite its nearness to popular
places. It had been a good trip.
