Tough Terrain On The North Side Of Meall a' Bhuachaille

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.

Overcast sky above the col

A Change of Plan

Cairn Lochan from the ascent of Meall a' Bhuachaille

Sleety rain slid down the windscreen. High above dark clouds hid the mountains. The car rocked as gusts of wind blasted into it. Did I want to venture out into this and slog up into the wet greyness? A few moments thought told me I did not. The forecast hadn’t suggested this. I restarted the car and drove back down the winding road to park in the forest.

I still wanted to go up into the hills. Meall a’ Bhuachaille, some 400 metres lower than my original aim, the Cairngorm Plateau, seemed a good choice. I needn’t be above the trees for long and the summit might be below the clouds.

As I set out along the track through Ryvoan Pass I soon overheated. The temperature was below zero but down here there was no wind. Hat, fleece, and gloves were removed and the many zips on my smock undone for ventilation. It was the first time I’d worn the Paramo Aspira 360° Smock as it had only arrived for testing a few days earlier. As my walk was now going to be shorter than planned I decided I’d make a little video about the smock, ideally on the summit. It would have to be with my phone as I hadn’t brought a tripod and I knew I couldn’t hold my camera steady at arm’s length for very long.

An Lochan Uaine

With all the zips undone the smock was perfect for keeping me warm but not too hot in the woods. There was no snow left – it had thawed in a warmer spell a week or so before and none had fallen here when the weather turned colder again – but An Lochan Uaine was frozen, the ice green and white, cracked and refrozen, dotted with stones and sticks, white air bubbles below the surface.

Just before Ryvoan Bothy I was passed by a man on an electric mountain bike. Soon afterwards I passed him as he’d stopped to push the bike up a steeper section of track. “Not very fit”, he said. At the bothy there were more bikes plus rucksacks outside. I turned up the path to Meall a’ Bhuachaille, soon meeting two walkers descending. I saw no-one else until the summit.

Looking down to Ryvoan Bothy

The ascent was accompanied by a slow adjustment in my clothing as the wind increased with the height. Soon the smock zips were closed. Then a hat went on, then, close to the top now and the wind savage, the hood went up and gloves were donned.

Lurchers Gully 

These changes involved a few stops, which were welcome both because I’m not that fit myself at present and because it gave me more time to watch the complex cloud structures racing across the sky above stark snow-spattered hills. A dramatic, sombre, cold, almost cruel-looking landscape drained of colour, any beauty harsh and hard. A landscape I love, whatever its moods. Whatever my moods.

Windy on the summit!

The summit provided little protection, the wind swirling round the cairn and the low rock walls that make a crude shelter. They’re designed to keep off the prevailing south-west wind, not this bitter blast from the south-east. I made an attempt at a video but soon realised the wind was too strong and cold. Two young men appeared, commented on the wind and the steepness of the ascent, and soon headed down.

Sgor Gaoith from the descent

Following them I soon dropped out of the worst of the wind. The clothing changes were reversed. Once in the woods I found a log to sit on and recorded a video about the smock, which you can see on YouTube. Any shakiness is due to me not the wind!  

All Quiet Before Storm Eowyn

The summit of Meall a' Bhuachaille

The first named storm of 2025, Storm Eowyn (love the Tolkien reference!), is due to arrive late tomorrow with very strong winds, rain and snow. Of course we had a big storm early in January that brought masses of snow and bitter cold but apparently that wasn't stormy enough to have a name. 

Before Eowyn arrives I decided it was time for my first hill of the year, an old favourite, Meall a'Bhuachaille. A bit later than usual this year for a variety of boring but pressing reasons. The day was calm and cloudy as I set off through the forest to the Ryvoan Pass and Lochan Uaine. Occasional shafts of sunshine pierced the greyness and lit up strips of trees or hillside but mostly the light flattening shroud stayed in place. 

View from Ryvoan Bothy

Lochan Uaine was rich and green, living up to its name, the only ripples on the water coming from swimmers, canine and human. Smoke was pouring from the chimney at Ryvoan Bothy. There was almost a clearance to the east with sunlight on the side of Carn Bheadhair, the clouds almost lifting from the top, and patches of hazy blue sky. It didn't last and when I looked back from the lower path on Meall a' Bhuachaille the brightness had gone and the cloud was locked firmly on the summit.

Into the mist

Big black bags lined the long path up Meall a' Bhuachaille, bags full of rocks and gravel. The path, steep in places and well-used, is being repaired. As the trees thinned out I reached the mist and was soon enveloped. Soon damp too as it was quite wet.

The dark summit cairn appeared. I stopped for a drink and a snack. No need to shelter. There was no wind.  Chilly enough to don hat and jacket though, the temperature just 1C. There were skims of ice and tiny tendrils of frost on the stones. 

A brief view from the summit

Then a golden glow appeared out to the west as the setting sun cut briefly below the clouds. A shoulder of mountain appeared then vanished. it was a welcome touch of colour before I was off down to the woods, finishing the walk by headlamp. 

With this first hill the year feels like it has really begun. Now to see what Storm Eowyn brings.

Spring Arrives: Ryvoan Pass & Meall a' Bhuachaille

Some years spring creeps in so gradually it’s hard to say when it has begun. This year spring has arrived with startling speed. One day the end of winter was still dragging on. The next the sun was hot and winter felt long gone. April was mostly grey, wet, and windy. The snowdrops in the garden lingered most of the month. The buds on the trees appeared to be making no progress. Then May arrived with sunshine and brightness. The world had changed. So fast! It was hard to adapt. I still had winter gear – snowshoes, ice axe, crampons – in the car. Winter boots littered the porch. Suddenly all redundant. Until the autumn.

A favourite spring walk called. Well, it’s a favourite anytime, but especially in spring and autumn when the woods are glorious. Ryvoan Pass and Meall a’ Bhuachaille never fail to delight.

Still not trusting the sunshine I set off in a windshirt. It was in the pack in less than ten minutes and never reappeared. A t-shirt was enough. And dark glasses and a sunhat. In the trees it was hot.

The birches were just coming into leaf and starting to glow green. The stars of wood anemones lined the path. An Lochain Uaine was pretty but, for once, rather bland. Higher up, as the trees began to thin out, I heard a bird singing. A pause and I spotted it, a willow warbler, tiny and olive green, perched, appropriately, on a young willow shoot. Another summer visitor soon showed itself, though silent. A handsome stonechat perched atop a young pine.

More willow warblers sang as I approached Ryvoan Bothy, which is being renovated by the Mountain Bothies Association. The corrugated iron porch that has been there for decades was gone. It will be replaced. Inside all was the same.

The paths were a surprise. I had forgotten they could be dusty. I’d grown used to sodden ground and mud. I was wearing trail shoes for the first time since last summer and had assumed they would get wet but it would be warm enough for that not to matter. They were to stay dry all day.

The climb up Meall a’ Bhuachaille felt hard work in the heat. Having cursed the endless winds all winter I welcomed the breeze higher up. Across Ryvoan Pass Cairn Gorm and the Northern Corries still sported strips of snow, though far less than usual at this time of year.

From the summit I could see the mountains fading into a hazy distance, the light more like high summer than early spring. The sky had clouded over as I climbed. Now the clouds began to break, bright and dappled as the sun cutting through them.

As soon as I reached the first trees I heard a willow warbler and spotted another stonechat. There were wood anemones again too, even more profuse than earlier.

To the right of the path a large area of spruce had been recently felled, the ground covered with pale stumps. The skeletons of long dead pines rose into the air, presumably ones left when the plantation was created. The plantation on the other side of the past was felled quite a few years ago and now has thickets of young birch and a few young pines springing up as it recovers. I noticed that regenerating spruce had recently been cut down here.

For a short distance the path runs in a corridor of scattered trees with the felled areas either side. In the decades to come this land should recover and become a natural forest again.

Soon I was into the dark confines of the mature forest and back in the glen. My spring walk was over. I thought of willow warblers, stonechats, and wood anemones, three symbols of the new season for this year.

Meall a' Bhuchaille in the snow on the first day of December

View to Cairn Gorm & The Northern Corries

December begins and the land is white. After the snow that fell at the end of November the temperature dropped and it’s been below freezing ever since. Winter is here. Dense fog sometimes fills the air. Sometimes the sun shines bright, casting an illusion of warmth.

My recuperation from the operation (non-serious but essential) in early November I decided on a longer hill walk than the short local one I did ten days ago. Since then I have stuck to little walks without a pack in the fields and woods by my house. A long winter day out with a full winter pack was probably unwise so I decided on an afternoon walk through Ryvoan Pass and over Meall a’Bhuachaille. I never need an excuse to do this lovely walk!

After sunset on Meall a' Bhuachaille

With snow down to glen level I still took an ice axe along with micro spikes rather than heavier crampons. The snow shovel stayed at home too. My pack still weighed 8kg. I hoped it wasn’t too much.

An Lochan Uaine

Last time I did this walk, back in October, the autumn colours were at their height. Now the trees are thick with snow. As there’s been no wind it has stuck to the trees, bending the branches and creating weird and wonderful ethereal shapes. An Lochan Uaine (the Green Lochan) was blue rather than green, reflecting the sky. Many people were here, enjoying the winter beauty. The air was cold but calm.

Approaching the summit

Beyond the lochan I met few others. Once I started up Meall a’Bhuachaille I met no-one until the summit, where a solitary walker was enjoying the sunset.

Mist fills Strathspey

Across Glenmore Cairn Gorm and the Northern Corries were catching the last of the setting sun. Drifting clouds were turning pink and orange. Looking the other way I could see mist filling Strathspey. From up here it looked impressive. Driving home slowly through it later on it didn’t seem so attractive.

Keeping warm

The summit was bitterly cold, a light breeze numbing exposed skin. I was very glad of the down jacket I’d brought. Out to the west I could see mist beginning to form in the glens.

Loch Morlich

Across silvery Loch Morlich the silent woods and hills were pale and grey below the orange horizon. On the descent I was glad of my trekking poles as the snow was slippery in places, especially lower down where it was thinner and slid easily off the stone steps of the path. I didn’t need my micro spikes or ice axe but I might have done.

Jupiter

I reached the forest as the bright spot of the planet Jupiter appeared above the shoulder of Meall a’Bhuachaille. The last light had gone now and I finished the walk by the light of my headlamp in the dark forest. It had been a glorious walk.

Before Storm Babet: A Walk Through Ryvoan Pass And Over Meall a' Bhuachaille

View across Ryvoan Pass to Cairn Lochan

Two weeks ago I was in the Eastern Cairngorms bivvying outside a shooting lodge to shelter from very strong winds as Storm Agnes approached. The next day I was camped in a forest after crossing the hills on an equally windy day. That evening the rain began, rain that was to last the next two and a half days and bring floods to eastern Scotland. With Tony Hobbs I walked through the start of these floods. (See this post for the story of the whole trip).

Now Storm Babet has arrived and again there is flooding in Eastern Scotland along with very strong winds. This time I’m at home. Here we’ve had a day of rain, winds strong enough to blow you sideways, and one power cut, which thankfully only lasted just over an hour. Others are not so lucky. The storm is forecast to last another two days.

An Lochan Uaine

Before the storm blew in I went on a favourite walk through Ryvoan Pass and over Meall a’ Bhuachaille. I love this walk at any time of the year but the autumn colours make it even more special than usual. The day started out sunny and warm. Thin high clouds drifted over the sky later on but the air remained warm. There was no breeze. The contrast with the two big storms was immense. The same world but so, so different.

Blaeberry autumn colour. It's not just trees!

The track to An Lochan Uaine and Ryvoan Bothy was busy with families and cyclists (it’s the Scottish school holidays), all enjoying the sunshine and the beautiful landscape. The reflections in the lochan were gently rippled by an almost undetectable breeze.

At Ryvoan Bothy I met Paul and Helen Webster of Walk Highlands, also intent on a good walk before the storm arrived. I followed them up Meall a’ Bhuachaille as thin clouds started to form. 

Clouds & smoke

Away to the south-east there was an unusual double-layer of low clouds. When I posted pictures of these on social media I had a reply from Steve Carver (@landethics) saying “looks like smoke from muirburn coming up against a boundary layer and flattening out as it moves downwind”. I had wondered if some of it might be smoke but wasn’t sure as I couldn’t see the source. Thanks Steve!

Muirburn

Away to the north on the moors above Grantown-on-Spey there was no doubt that muirburn was happening with great plumes of smoke rising into the sky as heather moorland was burnt for the sake of grouse shooting, destroying all other life.

Ryvoan Pass

As I climbed higher I could see back down to An Lochan Uaine and Ryvoan Pass, as always looking far narrower and enclosed from up here than it feels when walking through it. Further west across Glenmore and Rothiemurchus Forest the cliffs of Cairn Lochan were spattered with snow. And everywhere the yellow and gold of autumn birches shone against the green of the pines.

Paul and Helen Webster on Meall a' Bhuachaille

Paul and Helen were just leaving the summit as I arrived. Not far from the top a couple were pitching a tent, a lovely site in good weather. I sat by the summit cairn for a while absorbing the view and feeling peaceful and calm.

On Meall a' Bhuachaille

To the west I could see along Strathspey all the way to Ben Nevis, the distant hills in layers of different shades. For once I’d taken my big zoom lens up a hill. It was worth it just to photograph this view. I can’t decide whether it looks better in colour or black-and-white so I’m posting both.

That view stayed with me for most of the descent, only disappearing when I reached the first trees. Soon this always fine walk was over. I’ll be back.

Back in the forest

Meall a'Bhuachaille, forest regeneration, and the power of photography

View over Ryvoan Bothy from the lower slopes of Meall a'Bhuachaille, April 2004

Visiting the same locations year after year you can’t help but notice changes. How great these are may not be apparent though. I’ve walked through Ryvoan Pass and climbed Meall a’Bhuachaille in the Cairngorms several times every year for over thirty years. It’s a great hill for a half day, for bad weather, to show other people the area. The views are superb, and the walk takes you from the forest to a bare summit, a journey through the Cairngorms in miniature.

View over Ryvoan Bothy from the lower slopes of Meall a'Bhuachaille, June 2023

One of the many joys I find in this walk is seeing the regeneration of the forest, seeing the trees spreading and advancing across the landscape. This year I went up Meall a’Bhuachaille on the last day of June, a muggy day with mist and drizzle. The land was green and lush. I took photographs as usual, mostly as a record as the light was flat and hazy. Such record shots can be significant though.

Back home I was looking for an old image on my computer when I came on ones of an ascent of Meall a’Bhuachaille in 2004. I was immediately struck by how bare the landscape looked. Where were all the trees? I hadn’t realised just how much had changed, just how much the forest had spread. The photographs are a powerful record of this.

Looking over the plantation to Loch Morlich, July 2007

Looking through other photographs I found ones showing the large plantation that lay south of the mountain, the bare ground after the plantation was felled, and, from my recent trip, the regeneration now springing up. The land has gone from a dense regimented tree farm to bare ground to a new forest in a little over a decade.

The felled plantation visible in the centre of the image. Note the block of pines left standing. April 2013.

Felling may have removed the mature spruce trees of the plantation, but their seeds of course remained and many young spruce trees are springing up. However there are pines, birch, rowan, and juniper as well. The new forest won’t be the same as the old pine forest that was there before the spruce, but it will be a far more diverse, natural forest than the plantation.

Regeneration on the site of the plantation around the block of pines. June 2023

Photographs convey all this far more than words or charts or facts and figures. The changes are clearly visible. I’m glad I’ve always taken photos even when conditions weren’t promising. I just wish I’d taken more.

Another view over Ryvoan Bothy, April 2004

Similar view to the one above, June 2023