Before the predicted ‘changeable’ weather arrived with high
winds and rain, ending weeks of mostly windless dryness and heat I decided on a
high camp on the slopes of Bynack More, a stony Munro lying across the deep
trench of Strath Nethy from Cairn Gorm.
Clouds
The walk-in through wooded Ryvoan Pass and round the tip of
Cairn Gorm’s long north ridge to the footbridge over the River Nethy was in the
now familiar hot, humid, sticky conditions. The forest was lovely though, as it
always is. An intermittent breeze blowing down Strath Nethy encouraged me to
hope there would a more constant one higher up to keep off the midges. I needn’t
have been concerned! The sky was cloudier than I’d expected and the conflicting
masses and layers suggested turmoil and the change to come.
Bynack More. The path I took can just be seen right of centre.
My pace slowed as I headed up the Lairig an Laoigh path to
the featureless plateau that makes up the northern end of Bynack More. Leaving
that path for the well-trodden one that runs directly up the north ridge to the
summit I noticed a dark line cutting across the western slopes of the hill into
Coire Dubh between Bynack More and its subsidiary Top, Bynack Beg. It looked
very like a path. I must have seen this on my many previous ascents but it had never
really attracted my attention. This time it did and I decided to go and have a
look.
The path into Coire Dubh with the main route in the background.
The line didn’t quite join the main ascent route but was visible
not far away. Once I reached it I found a clear narrow path that curved round
the hillside into the upper corrie. Here it faded away on the gentler terrain,
which looked like it would be boggy in wet weather. There was no difficulty in
continuing up the slopes to the col between the two Bynacks though. I thought
it a pleasant route and a nice alternative to the standard ascent.
Rather than continue the short distance to the summit of
Bynack More I contoured south to the headwaters of the Allt a’ Choire Dheirg
where I planned on camping. If there was water, that is. The ground was parched,
the burn in Coire Dubh had been dry. If there was no water I might have to descend
to find some.
I was delighted to see the burn was flowing and I soon found
a flattish spot not far away for the tent. The clouds were thicker and lower
now, shrouding Cairn Gorm, so I decided to leave the summit of Bynack More for
the dawn, when it was forecast to be clear. Settling into the tent I soon had
the stove on. A gusty wind kept off any midges.
A colourful dusk
The clouds began to break up at dusk, making for a colourful
sunset that had me leaving the tent to enjoy it fully. The wind was stronger
now and the air chilly.
A beautiful morning. You can't see the wind!
Overnight the wind continued to increase, big gusts waking
me at times. By dawn they were powerful enough to make walking into them hard
work. I decided to forego Bynack More’s summit and head for Bynack Beg with the
wind at my back and then descend. The sky was blue and the early sunshine
beautiful though and I was glad to be here.
Cairn Gorm from Bynack Beg
On Bynack Beg I sheltered behind the summit rocks in order
to hold the camera steady. The wind was even stronger here. The way was down
now though, on the loose gravel path on the steep north-east ridge and into
Strath Nethy.
Distant reindeer
Enlargement from the photo above
Distant movement on the horizon caught my attention. A line
of walkers heading for Bynack More? Something didn’t look right for that. I looked
through the telephoto end of the zoom lens on my camera. It was the Cairngorm
reindeer herd heading purposefully somewhere.
The steep descent into Strath Nethy
As I dropped into Strath Nethy the wind only lessened slightly.
I felt it was chasing me down. It continued doing so all along the strath and
back through Ryvoan Pass and was still buffeting me when I was back in Aviemore
for a late lunch. It had been a good trip but I was glad I’d come down early.
“A pointless and distant top -Stob Lochan nan Cnapan (Tom
Dubh)”
Irvine ButterfieldThe High Mountains of Britain and
Ireland
When Irvine Butterfield wrote his excellent book in the 1980s 918-metre Tom Dubh was listed as a
subsidiary Top of Braeriach in Munro’s Tables. A glance at the map shows that
this doesn’t make much sense as Tom Dubh is some 6 kilometres from Braeriach’s
summit but just two kilometres from Monadh Mor. The latter is now, sensibly,
given as its parent Munro. To include it in a walk over Braeriach and its other Tops would mean a long diversion and is probably the reason for Butterfield's comment. It can easily be included in an ascent of Monadh Mor from Glen Feshie.
Recently I went this way and had a delightful camp on Tom Dubh, which
Butterfield also describes as “the most meaningless 3000 ft ‘top’ in all
Britain”, sitting outside my tent in the sunshine looking at the extensive
views. It’s a gentle, innocuous hill situated far out on the Moine Mhor
(Great Moss), that huge high-level boggy plateau between Glen Feshie and the higher
Braeriach – Cairn Toul hills. Irvine Butterfield wasn’t impressed with the
Moine Mhor either – “the ultimate in desolate wilderness, a landscape so
featureless that it almost defies man’s ability to use map and compass” and “perhaps
the most psychologically intimidating walk in Britain”. I think he had a rough day here!
Remembering Butterfield’s words as I sat on Tom Dubh I briefly
considered whether hills can have a point or meaning. They can’t, of course.
They just are. We ascribe those attributes. They are not innate. I guess to some
peak baggers Tom Dubh is irritating due to the effort needed to reach it but
that’s nothing to do with the hill itself.
Loch nan Cnapan
The name of this inoffensive little hill means dark or black
(dubh) knoll or hillock (tom). It’s not particularly darker than other bumps up
here though but knoll is appropriate. With the other name, Stob Lochan nan
Cnapan, it’s the second half that makes sense as the hill rises just to the south
of the loch. Stob is puzzling though as it means a stick or post and anything
less like a post than wide, flat-topped, easy-angled Tom Dubh is hard to imagine.
Tom Lochan nan Cnapan would make most sense.
Why such a minor hill has two names also seems strange.
Neither has been around very long in fact and if it wasn’t for Sir Hugh Munro
compiling his list it may have remained a nameless bump on the Moine Mhor. In
the original 1891 Tables it’s just called Top above Lochan nan Cnapan. It becomes
Stob Lochan nan Cnapan in the 1921 revision and then Tom Dubh sixty years later
in 1981. All this time it was listed as a Top of Braeriach, only being
transferred to Monadh Mor in 1997. That’s quite a history for such an inconspicuous
hill! (Information from Robin N. Campbell’s invaluable The Munroist’s
Companion).
View across the Moine Mhor to Sgor Gaoith
I find the Moine Mhor and its hills fascinating and beautiful.
I’ve camped on it many times in summer and winter. I’ve crossed it in mist,
snow, and rain. It’s vast complex tangle of little stony ridges, mossy hollows,
dark pools, peat bogs, and burns running in every direction, rimmed by higher hills
is a wonderland of wild nature. In poor visibility navigation can be
challenging, especially as walking in anything resembling a straight line is
difficult once away from the bulldozed roads that mar the western side.
The welcome spring at the top of the climb from Glen Feshie
On this latest trip there were no problems with
route-finding. The risks lay in sunburn and dehydration. I toiled up from Glen
Feshie on a hot humid August day, thankful to stop for water where the path
crosses the burn running out of Coire Brocair and then much higher up at the
bright bubbling spring that is one of the headwaters of the Allt Fhearnagan. On
some trips I pass these by. This time I drank deeply from both.
A light breeze provided a little relief from the sweltering
heat as I crossed the Moine Mhor to Loch nan Cnapan. After weeks of little rain
the ground was parched. Keeping my feet dry up here was an unusual experience,
especially in trail shoes. The moor was a wash of golden brown in the sunshine.
Close to there were flowers, yellow tormentil, patches of purple heather, the
spiky lilac blue devil’s bit scabious in drier places, yellow buttercups by the
burns, orange bog asphodel in still damp hollows.
View to Sgor Gaoith from the camp above Loch nan Cnapan
As Loch nan Cnapan came into view the breeze dropped.
Pausing to gaze down at the blue water in its shallow bowl I felt the brush of
the first midges. I searched round for a rise on which to camp in the hope the
breeze might recur. I found a rather rough grassy spot on a bump with a light
breeze and a good view of pointed Sgor Gaoith. I pitched my shelter and went
down to the loch for water. Back at camp the breeze had faded away and I soon
had a mosquito coil burning in the doorway while I made supper. Then I zipped
myself into the insect netting inner tent for the night.
The heat builds at the camp above Loch nan Cnapan
Dawn came with condensation and more midges. The night had
been clear. My shelter was soaked inside and out. Soon, though, the sun was
shining strongly and the temperature soaring, driving away the midges and
drying the nylon. The heat was already hammering down. My plan had been to go
up Braeriach and Cairn Toul and then camp below the latter. But the thought of
sweating up the long slopes to the summits with a full pack under the blazing
sun didn’t seem appealing. I could have left the camp and just gone with a day
load but the site had proved damper, bumpier and midgier than I’d hoped so I
did want to move it.
Just a kilometre away rose the gentle swell of Tom Dubh. It
would probably be drier up there and more likely to catch any breeze. I could then climb Monadh Mor, a hill I hadn’t
been on for many years. That seemed a much easier option than Braeriach with less
ascent and less distance. So to Tom Dubh and Monadh Mor I would go
Camp on Tom Dubh
First I hauled my gear out onto the grass for packing. It’s
always nice not have to do this inside a small tent. Then I rounded Loch nan
Cnapan, ambled up Tom Dubh, and set up camp again, this time on a dry grassy
site that caught a breeze from the south. It was further to water but I would
need to go that way to Monadh Mor and could fill my containers on the way back.
After a leisurely lunch in the sunshine I packed a few items
and set off for Monadh Mor. Having planned on carrying a full pack each day I’d
brought a shelter that pitched with trekking poles. Now I had to do without
them, which was interesting on rough ground. Still, I thought, it’s useful to
know I can still manage without them.
I got wet feet fording the Allt Luineag, which was deeper
than I expected given the lack of rain, but in this heat that didn’t matter and
my shoes soon dried on the slopes of Monadh Mor, Looking back I could see a
small green tent pitched beside the river, the only other camp I saw. It was
probably less than half a kilometre from my tent but out of sight.
View down Glen Geusachan from Monadh Mor
Monadh Mor – big hill – has an almost three-kilometre-long
wide and stony summit ridge that gives excellent views. The best, I think, are
a little east of the summit cairn where steeper slopes descend into upper Glen
Geusachan. Either side of this wide glen lie the steep rocky slopes of Bod an Deamhain
and Beinn Bhrotain while beyond the foot of the glen is the lower Lairig Ghru
with Sgurr a’Mhaim rising above it.
Beinn Bhrotain from Monadh Mor
A party of three passed me as I approached the summit cairn
then as I sat having a snack two dogs rushed up. In the distance I could see
their owner slowly approaching. Having established I was friendly one of the
dogs dropped a stone at my feet and crouched down, looking hopeful. I dutifully
through the stone. Both dogs raced after it. We played this game for some time
until their owner finished his sandwich and decided it was time to move on.
Cairn Toul from Tom Dubh
They were returning to Deeside and so still had a long walk
ahead of them. I had no need to hurry, being only an hour or so from camp. I
took my time wandering back down. Back on Tom Dubh I ambled about the flat
summit admiring the views. It is, I decided, a lovely hill. I was camped on the
south side of the hill overlooking the long glen of the River Eidart, a fine
remote place itself. A welcome breeze was blowing up from the depths The low
evening sun lit up Cairn Toul. The sense of peace and silence was overwhelming.
Sun & heat
Once during the night I woke to see stars. There was
condensation again at daybreak but not as much. The sun hit sooner here than at
my first camp and the tent was unbearably hot by 7 a.m. I had breakfast
outside, not something it’s often possible to do up here, at least not
comfortably. A gentle breeze kept off the midges. I was happy to just sit here
in the sunshine and absorb the beauty and wildness but eventually I did pack up
and wander back across the Moine Mhor, fill up my water bottles at the spring,
and descend the long stony track in the furnace of Glen Feshie.
Earlier in the year I wrote a post about the Hilleberg Akto as this little tent is thirty this year. That piece had stories and pictures from my many years of using it. Now I've made a little video showing how I pitch it and what I like about it.
Sunday Afternoon Ultra Adventure Hat & Vallon Daytripper sunglasses
Summer's not over. August may have started cool and windy here in the Highlands but hot weather is forecast. There's a heat warning for much of England with temperatures forecast to climb above 30C. Here in the Cairngorms it's meant to be the lower 20s Celsius, which is quite hot enough for me.
Ombraz Refugio sunglasses & Columbia Skien Valley Hooded Jacket
This year I've been trying out various items designed for sun and insect protection and comparing them with my favourites. Today I gathered them together and made a little YouTube video.
The photos with this piece show some of the items I discuss in the video. They were all taken this year except for the Midge Specs one which is from last year.
Tentree Juniper Altitude Hat & Vallon Daytripper sunglasses
Storm Loris blasted through yesterday with record-high wind speeds for the time of year. Storms in August are not unusual but they're normally not like this severe.
While the storm raged I went outside very briefly and shot a few seconds of video with my phone. Rain was lashing down and the trees were thrashing wildly. I certainly wasn't go into the woods or even very near them. Watching the storm from inside seemed wise and I was soon back indoors.
Unlike many people, some not too far away, we didn't lose power and we weren't affected by road and rail closures as we'd no plans to go anywhere, having been following the build-up to the storm for several days. So a combination of luck and planning meant Loris didn't affect us.
In fact the biggest shock was this morning when I woke up. It was unnervingly quiet. No wind in the chimney, no rain rattling the window. Just silence.
In fact it was quite windy. Just normally windy though. It felt safe to venture into the woods so I went out for a walk to see what damage Loris had wrought. It was less than I'd expected. Plenty of twigs and dead branches everywhere of course but not that many fallen trees. Most of the latter were at two corners of the woods vulnerable to winds and where trees had come down in previous storms.
At one of these spots the wind was still fierce and I recorded another little video, again having difficulty holding the phone still.
The weather looks unsettled the next few days but not abnormally stormy. The second half of August looks like it might be fine. I hope so. I have a walk planned.
On a perfect summer's day with sunshine, clear views, and beautiful colours - the landscape glowed - I went to visit the less -well known of the two Huntly's Cave in the area, which lies in a short but rugged ravine. Although not far from home I'd only been there once before, three years ago as described here.
A glorious day
The shallow ravine, the Uaigh Mhor, containing the cave was as awkward to walk up as I remembered - a tangle of juniper bushes, boulders, and heather. The cave is a slot in the boulders facing up the ravine and I went past it without seeing it until I looked back. One of the lords of Huntly may have hidden here in the 1640s though the other, bigger, Huntly's Cave is the more likely location. This cave is small and uncomfortable. You'd have to be desperate to stay here for long though on this hot day it was nice and cool.
Looking out
By the time I was returning home the sky was clouding over. Rain is forecast. It's needed. The ground is still very dry. Then the day after tomorrow Storm Floris arrives and there's a warning of very strong winds.
