Autumn Storms in the Cairngorms on a four-night trip

Approaching Bod an Deamhain 

We should have been in Torridon. At least, that was the plan. A forecast of stormy weather had us deciding to shift the trip a few days forwards. The forecast shifted with us. Maybe Torridon wasn’t a good idea. The forecast looked a little less stormy in the Cairngorms. Also, there we had options for more sheltered routes than in Torridon, with more trees, more long glens. The Cairngorms it would be.

This was Tony Hobb’s annual autumn trip to the Highlands. Stormy weather was not unusual on these ventures though the previous year we’d had fairly benign conditions in Glen Affric. Two years before that however Storm Agnes caught us in the Eastern Cairngorms.

By the time we were setting off on this trip the forecast looked stormier in the Cairngorms. We weren’t going to escape it. Summits and plateaux seemed unwise. I planned a glens and passes route that would give us two nights out of the four in forests.

First camp, Glen Feshie

The walk down Glen Feshie was uneventful. It was early October and the autumn colours were just beginning. The glen was lovely and peaceful. We found a good site deep in the woods and had a pleasant first camp.

Glen Feshie

The next day we continued up the glen as the sky grew darker and the wind began to strengthen. The first spots of rain fell as we left the last trees. Jacket hoods went up and down as showers came and went. Autumn colours glowed. The twin waterfalls on the River Eidart, one wide, one thin, looked superb.

Eidart Bridge & Falls

Then it was onto the shallow watershed between the River Feshie and the Geldie Burn. This is bleak wide-open moorland with no shelter. The rain was hammering down now, stinging bare skin. Hoods stayed up. The strong gusty wind was hitting us from the side. We were thankful not to be walking into it. I felt tired but plodded on. There was nowhere for a comfortable camp.

Colour in the storm

A brief break in the clouds gave a brilliant rainbow, the only colour for several hours. The Geldie began to gently descend with slopes closing in on either side. We found a good, fairly sheltered site right by the burn. Exhausted I was soon out of wet clothes and into my sleeping bag. During the night I woke with a streaming nose and a headache. A cold! Damn! That explained my weariness.

Early morning at camp by the River Geldie

Dawn came with golden light and a feeling of warmth. The land glowed. The sun shone. Briefly. Within an hour the clouds had thickened and the glorious brightness had faded. 

Sunrise, River Geldie

We debated what to do. Crossing the high Lairig Ghru pass was still the shortest way back to the start so we decided to take the most direct route there rather than the longer one we’d originally planned. Commitments meant we hadn’t a spare day for me to sit out my cold here, something I would have done otherwise. I did not feel like walking far, or even at all.

In Glen Dee

Instead, we had a relatively short day and walked to the River Dee and then followed it into the mouth of the Lairig Ghru. The clouds raced overhead and swirled round the mountains. There were showers but no prolonged rain. The landscape became more dramatic as the mountains closed in, the great crags and slabs of Bod an Deamhain (the Devil’s Point) dominating the view. Tony found a couple of patches of grass Just big enough for the tents amongst the bogs, heather and tussocks. They made comfortable sites.

Camp in Glen Dee

Still feeling rough the next day I was slow to get ready and we had a late start. I was slow plodding up the path to the Lairig Ghru too. We passed the dark Pools of Dee in their stark boulder fields and reached the 835-metre summit of the pass just before dusk. The wind was gusty but not too strong and any showers were brief. We had, we thought, done the hardest part of the day. Now we just had to follow the path slowly down into the forest and find a sheltered camp site.

Braeriach from Glen Dee

We were wrong. The wind was ferocious, blasting down, funnelled through the narrow gap of the pass. Without trekking pole we’d have been knocked over, often. At times all we could do was brace ourselves with the poles and try and keep our feet until a gust eased. We were walking by headlamp with Tony’s dog Bella, who had no problem finding the path, leading the way. The terrain here is rocky. Being blown over was not a good idea. Caution and slowness were the only safe way to proceed.

Beside one of the Pools of Dee

Eventually we came out of the narrow gap and onto a better path. The wind was now merely fierce. It continued so down into the forest and we went further than we’d hoped before camping on a site we’d used before where the wind was a little less powerful. We were in fact only a few kilometres from the road. But there was no point going on. We needed to sleep before driving. It had been an exciting trip, a memorable trip, one to talk about in future. But I was glad it was over.

A Familiar Walk With A Difference: Sgor Gaoith & Meall Tionail

Meall Tionail with Meall Buidhe to the left

Sometimes revisiting a familiar place can bring something new, something that makes you think maybe you didn’t know the place as well as you thought after all. Such was the case on a late August walk from Glen Feshie to Sgor Gaoith. I’ve done this many times over the years. It’s one of my favourite Cairngorm walks and Sgor Gaoith one of my favourite Munros. I wasn’t expecting anything different.

Heather, pines, path

The heather on the lower slopes was startlingly bright, beautiful, rich and purple. The sky was overcast, the air was warm and humid. I was soon hot and sweat-soaked. It was a relief to leave the last trees and feel a slight breeze.

The sun breaks through

A late start had me arriving on the tops just before sunset. For a brief moment the sun broke through the clouds and cast pink rays over the land. Then the greyness returned and thickened as mist enshrouded me.

The mist was wet so I quickly pitched the tent on a site I knew well, collected water, and settled in for the night. Very soon the flysheet was dripping with condensation.

Camp

In the early hours the weather changed. I was woken by a breeze rustling the flysheet and flicking drops of moisture on my face. It felt cooler and I closed the inner tent door. Dawn came with a blue sky and a gusty wind.

The Allt Fuaran Diotach

Not far from camp the Allt Fuaran Diotach began its dramatic plunge down to Loch Eanaich far below. I took the narrow path that runs along the edge of the broken cliffs above the loch. This is a fine route with tremendous views of Sgor Gaoith ahead and across the loch to the massive bulk of Braeriach. 

View down to Loch Eanaich

The wind was very strong here, rushing up from the glen. It was pushing me away from the drop or I’d have moved to gentler terrain.

Sgor Gaoith

I could see walkers on the sharp point of Sgor Gaoith and more coming along the main path, which lay not far away. I joined them as my path and theirs merged just below the top. The wind was now ferocious. I didn’t stop but dropped down to the east to find a lunch spot where my water bottle wouldn’t be whisked away by the wind as soon as I put it down.

The ridge I'd never noticed before. Meall Tionail on the left.

Sitting here gazing at the extensive view over Glen Feshie I noticed a graceful curving ridge running from Meall Buidhe, a subsidiary top of Sgor Gaoith, to a little bump called Meall Tionail. I must have looked at this ridge every time I’d come this way but it had never made an impression. I’d never really seen it, never wondered what it was like. I did now. I’d planned, as always, on going over Meall Buidhe and onto Geal Charn, another subsidiary top once classified as a Munro, and then descending down to Glen Feshie. Now though I decided I’d go to Meall Tionail and see what it was like.

There’s a bit of a path over the stony ground to Meall Buidhe but none from there to Meall Tionail. The ridge, as I’d expected, was actually quite broad.  The graceful curve was an illusion. The terrain was rocky but the walking easy. A cairn decorated the summit. I sat here a while looking back at Meall Buidhe and Sgor Gaoith.

The summit of Meall Tionail. Sgor Gaoith in the distance.

Meall Tionail is a pleasant summit, a gentle rise at the end of a spur from Meall Buidhe. I doubt anyone comes here very often as it doesn’t reach Munro height. Many traverse its lower slopes though, as I had done the previous day, as a well-used path to Sgor Gaoith curves round it. Now I’d been up it and added a little to my knowledge of the area. There’s always so much more to learn.

From the summit I headed down steep, heather-clad slopes to join that path just above the forest.

I made a little video of the trip with much more about my camp.

A Windy Tent Test In The Cairngorms

 

Last month I had a short trip in the Cairngorms with a tent I was testing for the first time. The weather was windy and cloudy with a few showers, which was good for the test but the reason I didn't go any further than my camp spot. 

I did make a video about the tent and the stove system I used - Robens Alta Via 1 UL and Primus Lite Ultra .

I didn't write a blog post but I did take some photos showing the ever-changing and dramatic skies so here are some of them. They don't show the wind (the video does that) or that I took most of them braced against rocks, sheltering behind boulders, or lying down. It wasn't as nice a day as it looks!

Camp in Coire an Lochain

The lochan in Coire an Lochain

Clouds swirling round the Cairn Lochan cliffs

The wind rippling the surface of the smaller lochan in the corrie

The cloud descends on Cairn Lochan

Clouds above and below. View to Meall a' Bhuachaille

As I left clouds filled the corrie

View to a cloud-filled Coire an t- Sneachda with the end of the Fiacaill Coire an t-Sneachda on the right

Looking up to the Fiacaill Coire an t-Sneachda

Thirty years ago I walked over all the Munros and Tops

The first of 517. On Ben More on Mull, May 18.

Thirty years ago on May 18, 1996, I climbed Ben More on the Isle of Mull, the first summit on a walk over all the 517 Munros and Tops - mountains and subsidiary summits in the Scottish Highlands over 3,000 feet/914.4 metres in height. The walk ended 118 days later on Ben Hope, the northernmost Munro, after around 1770 miles/2850 km and some 575000 feet/175260 metres of ascent.

Champagne on Ben Hope with Chris Brasher. September 12.

I did the walk because I love long-distance walking and I love the Scottish Highlands. I’d wanted to do all the Munros on one walk since reading Hamish Brown’s superb account of the first ever such walk, Hamish’s Mountain Walk. Adding the Tops made the walk more interesting and challenging – especially in the planning. Whilst there were guidebooks to the Munros there were none to the Tops and, as I was to discover, few paths.

On Schiehallion. June 19.

This long-distance walk was different to others I’d done (and have done since). All previous walks had been linear ones with the option of varying the route according to the weather, the terrain, or just how I felt. As long as I walked the whole way between the start and finish I’d completed the walk. This time I’d committed myself to visiting 517 summits along the way. The walk would only be a success when I’d stood on every one. That meant my route looked like tangle of spaghetti thrown on the map, zigzagging in every direction.

Camp high on Stob Coire Easain. July 17.

Camping is an essential part of long-distance walking for me. I go to spend as much time in wild places as possible, to immerse myself in them, to feel I’m living there. Staying there at night is an essential part of this. My memories of the walk are as much about the camping as the walking.

Camp in upper Glen Tilt. June 21.

The weather was cool, wet, and windy, with rain at some point on 64 days. I was often in mist. Navigation required care (no GPS back then) and my compass was in regular use. Even so it was clear on 343 summits and only cloudy on 174.

Loch Nevis appears below the clouds on the descent from Sgurr na Ciche. August 1.

Sunny days came and went. Just once there were six in a row, during which I walked from Ben Alder to Ben Nevis, traversing the Grey Corries and the Mamores. 

Windy on Meall Ghaordaidh. June 4.

Whilst rain and mist weren't welcome it was very strong winds that caused problems, at times forcing me down from the summits. When I couldn't stand up it was time to retreat.

Escaping high winds under the Shelter Stone in the Cairngorms. July 4.

Bothies and shelters gave respite from the stormy weather in places and I used these on fourteen nights.

Above the clouds on Creag Leacach. June 25.

Some of my strongest memories are of days when the mists sank down into the glens and I was walking above them in sunshine and days when the skies cleared at dusk and the sky turned red and gold as the sun set.

After sunset on the Five Sisters of Kintail. August 11.

The weather meant I had fewer high mountain camps than I'd hoped, most being below 1000feet/300 metres. One of the few high ones came just four days from the finish when I camped not far from Seana Bhraigh and watched a spectacular sunset.

Sunset from a high camp. September 8.

The images here are scans from some of the images from the 60 rolls of transparency film I took during the walk.

After the walk I wrote a book, The Munros and Tops. It’s still in print if you’re interested in reading more about my adventure.

A few more camp pictures.

On the slopes of Carn Dearg, Ben Nevis in the distance. July 16.

Camp below Sgurr Choinnich Beag. July 18.

By Loch nan Eun. June 22.

I've made a little picture video about the walk:

A Walk And Camp On The Cairngorm Plateau In Mist, Snow, And Sun

Loch Avon

After weeks of changeable weather, the second half of April has seen day after day of fine weather. The first mountain camp of the year called and I climbed up to the Cairngorm Plateau. The sun was bright and warm but the east wind was chilly.

Snowfield crossing

There were still large snowfields and I took out my ice axe to ascend one. The snow was sugary on top but hard and icy underneath. I probably could have managed without the axe but the extra security was welcome.

Cloud camps Cairn Gorm

As I reached the Plateau I could see clouds building to the south. Ben Macdui was hidden in greyness and soon the mist settled on Cairn Gorm. Crossing Stob Coire an t-Sneachda I admired the cracked cornices hanging above its eponymous corrie.

Cornices on Stob Coire an t-Sneachda

My plan had been to descend to the Loch Avon basin and camp below the Shelter Stone, a favourite spot, where I should be out of the strongest winds. However, the start of the steep descent from Coire Domhain was banked up with snow. I couldn’t see how far this ran and thought it might be tricky going down it. There was only a breeze in the corrie too. Avoiding the snow for a high camp was appealing so I pitched the tent here.

A misty dawn

The mist soon blanketed the sky and filled the corrie. There would be no sunset. There was no sunrise either, just a gradual lightening revealing greyness all around. I wasn’t despondent though – this had been forecast and was meant to give way during the morning. And by the time I’d had breakfast and was out of the tent the sky was clearing.

Clearing skies

I set off in sunshine for the top of the steep slopes leading down to Loch Avon. This rocky rim gives spectacular views and I spent some time wandering around looking at the dark cliffs of Hell’s Lum, the Shelter Stone Crag, Carn Etchachan, and Stacan Dubha and down to deep blue Loch Avon. Great bands of snow lined the rocks. I could hear the rushing waters of the Garbh Uisge Mor and the Feith Buidhe crashing down.

Carn Etchachan & the Shelter Stone Crag

Whilst admiring the views I met mountain and wildlife guide Gary Hodgson of Tarmachan Mountaineering. Appropriately enough he was out looking for ptarmigan (a poor Anglicisation of the Gaelic tarmachan).

Feith Buidhe

Turning from the cliffs I followed the Feith Buidhe up to half-frozen Lochan Buidhe. Where free from snow the wide burn sparkled in the sunshine, rippling over golden-brown rocks and gravel.

Caution needed!

There were large deep snowfields too, often cracked and broken where they were sagging into the water. I made a large detour round one tributary to find a way across that didn’t seem likely to send me plunging through the snow into the water.

At the lochan I reached the main path to Ben Macdui trampled into the snow. I had thought of climbing the peak, now barely two kilometres away, but walking in the soft snow was hard work and the day was hot so I decided to forgo another visit to the summit.

The March Burn

I crossed the path to the headwaters of the March Burn, just before it tumbles down into the Lairig Ghru. Here it spreads out and forms a small shallow flowing lochan. Like the Feith Buidhe it was shining in the sun.

The Lairig Ghru

I left the glorious Cairngorm Plateau on the path across the west flank of Cairn Lochan to Miadan Creag an Leth-choin. Here the wind caught me, rushing up from the Lairig Ghru, fierce and cold. It then hurried me down the long ridge above Coire an Lochain.

Coire an Lochain

Huge snowfields plastered the slopes beneath the Cairn Lochan cliffs. Below the massive Great Slab I could see avalanche debris. The Slab itself was still snow-covered but cracks at the top suggested the snow would soon slide off.

Looking back to Cairn Lochan

As I descended and the wind lessened, I could see two skiers ahead of me, or rather two walkers carrying skis as there was little snow down here. I caught one of them up as she stopped to fill her water bottle at a stream crossing. She turned out to be Angela Oakley, author of a 1991 guidebook called Ski Touring In Scotland, of which I have an old well-worn copy. She and her husband had just skied Lurchers Gully on Nordic skis (her guide is about Nordic touring) and she said there was plenty of snow there. We’d met before at some ski event in the 1990s but I must admit I can’t remember this. We walked the last short distance back to the car park together and reminisced about ski touring in days gone by. A pleasant way to end a wonderful trip.

I made a little video about the trip.