Mountains & lochs: a walk in the NW Highlands

Camp 3. Looking across Lochan Fada to Slioch

Early summer or late spring? The beginning of June in the Highlands it never seems sure. This year, with the month starting with a hot spell, it felt like summer as I set off from Kinlochewe on a four day trip into the splendid wilds of  Letterewe and Fisherfield. Even a fairly strong breeze didn't cool me down or stop sweat soaking my clothes. Across Loch Maree clouds swirled above the Torridon peaks. Lovely woods of oak, birch and more lined the edge of the loch, remnants of a once vast forest. Inside enclosures set up by the Letterewe estate young trees were springing up, a heartening return. Above the trees new bracken was pushing up through the dead brown stalks of last year and I had to search around for an area of grass to pitch my tent.

Camp 1. Above Loch Maree.

From Loch Maree I headed into the hills, at first on a track and then cross-country as I climbed Beinn Lair, a fine hill but one that is little visited and has no paths as it doesn't reach the magical Munro altitude. To the south rose the great rocky west face of Slioch, a Munro I was to circle round and which stood out in many views though I didn't go up it on this trip.

The west face of Slioch

The sky remained cloudy and the wind grew stronger as I traversed long Beinn Lair. I had thought of a high camp but darkening clouds and a few heavy drops of rain suggested a storm, though out west the sun was sending shafts of light through the grey pall, and I decided to descend to the Fionn Loch.

View out to the sea from Beinn Lair

The rain came to nothing and down at the loch the wind had dwindled to barely a flicker. I sat outside the tent late watching the sunset. I thought there might be midges but none appeared. I think it was too dry.

Sunset at the Fionn Loch

The red sky at dusk didn't presage a clearing of the clouds though and at dawn they were still dark and thick. The wind was still light though and the midges still absent. I sat outside for breakfast.

Camp 2. By the Fionn Loch.

Excellent old stalking paths led out of the glen and up stony slopes to the col between Ruadh Stac Mor and A'Mhaighdean, the latter reckoned the remotest Munro. Compared with the day before the walking was easy even though the terrain was steep and rocky. A path makes so much difference. There were other walkers about too. I had seen no one on Beinn Lair. Munros attract.

Ruadh Stac Mor from the slopes of A'Mhaighdean

I had the summit of A'Mhaighdean to myself though. along with a welcome burst of weak sunshine and a thinning of the clouds. The views were superb, rock ridges running out to the sea, lochs glistening between steep mountains that faded away into the hazy distance. 

View from A'Mhaighdean

The rugged rock mountain of A'Mhaighdean vanished as I descended the eastern slopes. On this side wide gentle boggy slopes stretch down to Lochan Fada. A path runs to the col with the next Munro, Beinn Tarsuinn, then it was cross-country down to the lochan (a lochan that is much bigger than many lochs), the hardest walking of the whole day. Paths make such a difference!

Camp 3. Lochan Fada, with Beinn Lair on the left.

I camped on dry grass beside a stony beach. Again there were no midges. It was much colder as the clouds faded away to give a bright dawn with a blud sky. The walking remained tough as I made my way along the pathless north side of Lochan Fada, all bog and tussocks and heather. I was relieved to reach the path at the east end of the loch and take this down Gleann Bianasdail back to Loch Maree. Slioch again dominated the view.

Slioch and Lochan Fada

The clouds rolled in again and twenty minutes before I reached the car it started raining. I didn't mind. I did mind however when the rain stopped just as I walked into the sheltered car park as clouds of midges erupted instantly. This wasn't going to be a midge-free trip after all.

Munros & Challenges: Looking Forward to 2019

Sgurr nan Gillean, final Munro on my first round in 1981

This year sees two significant events. The first in March is the 100th anniversary of the death of Sir Hugh Munro, compiler of the Tables of Scottish Mountains over 3000' high that are named after him. The second is the 40th anniversary of the TGO Challenge walk across the Highlands. Both the Munros and the Challenge have been entertwined in my life and have special meaning to me.

I started climbing the Munros after reading Hamish Brown's superb Hamish's Mountain Walk, about the first continuous trip over all of them. Inspired by this I set out in 1979 to hike the Munros in a series of long backpacking trips. Then in 1980 the then new magazine The Great Outdoors promoted a new challenge walk, a crossing of the Highlands from coast to coast, devised by the same Hamish Brown. I entered and undertook a route crossing 56 Munros, all of them first ascents. The Challenge and the Munros were now firmly connected in my mind.

Ben Hope, final Munro of my continuous round in 1996

I finished my first round of the Munros in 1981. In 1996 I undertook them again in a continuous walk and added all the subsidiary Tops. Will I complete them all again? Maybe. In fact I suspect I've probably done a third round. I have to confess my records are not up to date.

Camp on my 1996 Munros & Tops walk

I've completed the Challenge fourteen more times since that first one, always including some Munros along the way. Next May I'll be taking part in the fortieth one. I won't be repeating my 1980 route though. That year, for the only time, the Challenge was three weeks long. It's been two ever since. I don't think I could do in two weeks what took me three forty years ago. I am planning a shortened version of that route though. With plenty of Munros.

Camp on the TGO Challenge, 2007

In the meantime my first action of 2019, after toasting the New Year with a glass of Ardbeg whisky, was to fill in my application for membership of The Munro Society. I've been meaning to do this for several years. A hundred years after Munro's death seems an appropriate time to do so.