Munro Reminiscences: On the Cuillin Ridge on my Munros and Tops walk 25 years ago.

 

On July 24, 1996, I was joined by two rock climber friends, Chris Ainsworth and Paul Riley, for the Cuillin Ridge section of my summer long Munros and Tops walk. Although I had done a little rock climbing many years earlier and had climbed most of the summits at least once before I knew I hadn't the confidence to tackle the Inaccessible Pinnacle or the Basteir Tooth solo.

Chris and Paul arrived with a good forecast for the next day but poor the day after so the plan was an early start and do as much of the ridge as possible before the weather changed. We were off by 6 a.m. Very early for me! The peaks were in cloud as we went up Sgurr nan Gillean, which had been the last Munro of my first round in 1981. 

In clearing weather we continued along the ridge, cutting below the difficult Bidein Druim nan Ramh as there are no Munros there, to the Inaccessible Pinnacle. The views from the summit of this rock tower were sensational, the sky now clear. 

By the time we reached the Bealach Mhic Choinnich clouds were rolling in and rain was starting to fall. It had been a brilliant day but after 16 1/2 hours and 14 summits it was time to go down. This turned out to be a very sensible decision as the storm that blew in was quite ferocious, battering the campsite where we were staying. The next day we went to the Sligachan Hotel for breakfast and stayed there for six hours watching the rain lashing the windows. The rest of the Cuillin would have to wait.

The pictures are from my book about the walk, The Munros and Tops (Mainstream).

A Few Days On The Isle of Skye

Rainbows and Rain and Wind

Rain and a strong north wind greeted me as I set off at dusk on the Am Mam track to Camasunary, a lovely bay in the midst of the mountains on the south coast of Skye. I saw little in the darkness as I climbed to the broad pass then descended more steeply to the seashore. Just one set of bright lights – red, white and green – hung mysteriously in the air far away. Only when I reached the beach did I realise they must belong to a boat moored out in the bay. A few weaker lights marked tents pitched on the wind-rustled grasses just above the shore. A cluster of them surrounded Camasunary bothy and there were lights inside. I found a pitch away from the others and wrestled against the wind to erect my tent, glad I’d brought a strong and stable, if heavy, geodesic dome that I knew would make less noise and shake less than lighter tents. The wind was not unexpected.

Rain on nylon is just as noisy whatever tent you have though and heavy bursts woke me several times during the night. Dawn came grey and wet. The grasses bent and swayed outside the tent. The sky was dark and heavy, the clouds sweeping over the summit of Sgurr na Stri, a rocky little 494 metre hill that rises steeply above Camasunary. The higher hills were hidden. Out of the tent I felt the full force of the cold north wind, stronger now than the night before. I checked the anemometer.  Some gusts were over 30mph. That’s when it starts to have a noticeable effect on walking. Higher up the wind would be much stronger. No hills today unless the wind lessened. 

The new Camasunary bothy. The old one can be seen far left.

 

The old white-washed bothy at the west end of the bay is one I’d stayed in many times in the past, though not for many years. Today it was occupied by a party who’d come in by sea, their kayaks pulled up on the grass above the beach. Although the surrounding area is owned by the John Muir Trust Camasunary itself isn’t and the owner wants the bothy for his private use. He didn’t want to deprive visitors of shelter though so he agreed that there should be a new bothy as a replacement and this was built in 2014 on the eastern side of the bay, about a kilometre from the old one. The approach to the new bothy is very boggy and the ground is marred by the deep ruts of vehicles. The stone-built, slate-roofed bothy looks a bit barn-like from the back as there are no windows on that side. Although complete it’s locked at present. Looking through the windows, which face the bay and will give a good view, it looked rather bare inside though I could see wooden bunks against the far wall. Like the old one the bothy will be maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association. I expect it’ll take a while for it to develop a character of it’s own.

Sgurr na Stri and Loch Scavaig

I wandered further along the south shore of Loch Scavaig on the rough and sometimes steep path that leads to the village of Elgol, where I would be in two days’ time, though not by foot. Ravens called overhead and down on the rocky shore oystercatchers piped shrilly and gulls and hooded crows scavenged amongst the debris, too much of which is plastic rubbish washed in from the sea. 

Back at the tent I sheltered inside and had hot soup for lunch. Outside the wind and rain hammered on. Turning away from the sea I headed into the wind and up the glen to Loch Creitheach. Wind-driven waves crashed on the shore. High above patches of blue appeared as the clouds finally tore apart. Rainbows were appearing as I returned to camp again. The rain continued to lash down. Combined with the wind this made photography difficult. Holding the camera steady was almost impossible even when lying or kneeling and keeping rain off the lens for long was completely impossible. Pictures were grabbed hastily.

Loch na Creitheach

The wind and rain were still beating down when I fell asleep that night but morning came with quiet and just light drizzle. The latter died away as I was packing up and the midges appeared, clouds of them rising out of the grass and enveloping me. Where was that wind now? Quickly shoving everything into the pack I set off briskly back up the Am Mam track, soon leaving the midges behind.

The Cuillin from Elgol

That evening I was in a meeting in Broadford with people from the John Muir Trust, this being the annual Trustees visit to a Trust property to see what’s happening on the ground and meet staff. The following morning dawned bright and sunny and we were off to Elgol for a meeting in the village hall, with just time to go down to the harbour for the classic and spectacular view of the Cuillin beforehand. 

The view from Am Mam

In the afternoon we escaped the indoors and visited Strathaird, one of the three adjoining estates the Trust owns on Skye. After looking round the lower farmland we took the Am Mam path that I’d now walked twice in the rain up to the pass and a wonderful view down to Camasunary and across to the Cuillin. If only it had been like this the previous two days! Returning to the road we were stopped by a magnificent sight. High above a golden eagle was circling with two ravens mobbing it. Just how big these eagles are was shown by the ravens, which looked small by comparison. The eagle seemed undisturbed by the two black would-be persecutors and just glided round in circles ignoring them. Eventually the ravens decided they’d had enough and flew off, as did the eagle shortly afterwards, heading towards Camasunary. Another eagle appeared in the distance but soon vanished. Golden eagles. A fine way to end a day on Skye.

Camping under a rainbow

Skye Sun, Skye Rain

A good weather forecast sent me off to the Isle of Skye at the end of last week. In August fine weather often means hazy conditions not conducive to sharp, clear pictures. However this forecast was for a mix of sunshine and showers with very clear air so if correct it sounded like an excellent opportunity to take some of the photos of the Cuillin that I need for various forthcoming books.

I considered camping at Sligachan or Glen Brittle, the two campsites that serve the Cuillin, but as soon as I saw the packed ranks of caravans, campavans and tents at the former I decided to head into the hills and camp wild. That evening I walked into Coire na Creiche and had a peaceful camp where the only sounds were the trickle of the burn and the gentle swish of the breeze, which was just strong enough to keep the midges down. At the head of the corrie the mountains glowed dark red in the setting sun. The wind faded during the night, allowing the midges to strike early the next morning. Breakfast in the tent and then a hurried packing meant I escaped with only a few minutes of irritation as clouds of them swarmed round my head and only a few bites where they found spots of skin I’d missed dousing with repellent.

Cutting round the shoulder of Sgurr Thuilm I was camped again within two hours, this time on a breezy site in Coire a’Ghreadaidh. Leaving camp I headed up little Coir’an Eich and onto the ridge of An Diollaid and then Sgurr na Banachdich. I stopped often to take photographs of the massive west face of Sgurr a’Ghreadaidh, which is well seen from this route. As I reached Sgurr na Banachdich great clouds poured up from the south-west, enveloping the peaks. Hoping these would be temporary I sat and ate lunch and stared into the greyness. Every so often the clouds would thin and part and there would be a flash of the bright blue of Loch Coruisk far below and the pinnacles and cliffs of peaks steep and dark against the pale clinging sky. Slowly the air cleared and just shreds of mist hung round the summits. Only Sgurr Alasdair, the highest peak in the Cuillin, remained cloud-capped, though all the peaks to the south stayed dark and dull under a sheet of high cloud. North and east though the sky was blue and the hills shone in the sunshine. I stayed on the summit ridge an hour taking pictures and watching the mountains. It was my first visit to the Cuillin in almost a year and I was, as always, amazed at how rocky and complex these remnants of ancient volcanoes are and how savage and contorted they look.

Back in camp I was able to sit outside and have some soup and coffee without the midges being much of a bother. In the evening I walked up Coire a’Ghreadaidh to the narrow notch of An Dorus. Again the evening light was lovely and the slanting light showed up the intricacies of the rocks. The great boiler plate slabs curving down from the upper corrie are magnificent and also make for easy walking, the rough gabbro very secure underfoot. I didn’t want to find a way through these slabs in the dark though so I went no further than An Dorus and returned to the tent just after sunset to be met with clouds of midges as the breeze went with the sun. A supper of ramen noodles was cooked in a closed porch and eaten in the tent.

After a few hours sleep I was woken by the hammer of heavy rain on the tent and the noise of wind shaking the nylon. Hoping it would pass I dozed for a few hours. It didn’t so I roused myself to the careful task of boiling water for a hot drink in the porch while the flysheet flapped and billowed in the wind. Outside the cloud was low on the hills and the burns roared and raced down the hillsides, fresh with white water. This time I packed inside the tent to avoid the weather not the midges. With no sign of a clearance I hiked out back to the car. The rain continued most of the way home. But the day on Sgurr na Banachdich was inspiring and invigorating.

Photo info: Camp in Coire a’Ghreadiadh. Canon EOS 450D, Canon EF-S 18-55mm IS@18mm, 1/125@F5.6, ISO 100, tripod, raw file converted to JPEG in Lightroom 2.4

A Few Days on Skye

The weather forecast said sunny, the midge forecast said negligible so I headed to the Isle of Skye for a few days wild camping and gabbro scrambling. The midges on Skye can be ferocious so it’s somewhere I usually avoid during summer. By late September they are usually calming down and I had that midge forecast to reassure me. Even so I packed repellent and mosquito coils. Arriving in early evening I walked down Glen Sligachan as the sky darkened on a clear evening with just a faint hint of chill in the air and not a murmur of wind. Entry into the wild was between the towering sentinels of Sgurr na Gillean and Marsco, two of the magnificent mountains of Skye. As the light faded the stars started to shine and soon I was walking under a spectacular sky, another sign of the coming autumn. There are no skies like this in summer; the sky never darkens enough for the Milky Way to stand out so brightly. Revelling in the dramatic night with the stars sparkling between the black silhouettes of the hills I walked without a light, just able to follow the faint, pale line of the thin, twisting path. I did need a headlamp to stumble through the bogs to the narrow strip of dry ground beside Loch na Creitheach where I camped for two nights.

The next day dawned grey and flat with no sign of the sun. The thick bank of cloud was just brushing the summits. I wandered up little Sgurr na Stri, one of the finest viewpoints in the whole of the Highlands, and stared down to Loch Scavaig and Loch Coruisk and up to the curving ramparts of the Cuillin, a familiar but always exciting ragged line of rock peaks. Tour boats from Elgol puttered around the head of Loch Scavaig. A kayaker paddled to an island on Loch Coruisk. The air was calm and everything was peaceful. Staying above Loch Coruisk I made a way over the rough terrain of the Druim nan Ramh, the going hard as the rock strata cut across the line of the ridge, making for many little ascents and descents. Right in the heart of the Cuillin Druim nan Ramh is another superb viewpoint, though little visited it seems as there’s no path. The mountains hung grey under the gloomy sky.

Back at camp I sat outside the tent contemplating the gently rippling waters of the loch and the huge mountains. Skye is marvellous whatever the weather. Then the midges arrived. In numbers and hungry. I cooked and ate in the tent with the doors zipped tight shut, glad it was midge proof, then read the evening away, unwilling to collect any more bites. The midge forecast could not have been less accurate. The midges were still waiting for me the next morning and the clouds were hiding the summits. I breakfasted in the tent then packed everything except the tent itself. Once outside I took the tent down, glad that this only took a few minutes, bundled into a pack pocket and headed back to Sligachan and the long drive home. The forecasts for sun and no midges were wrong but Skye had still worked its relaxing magic and I felt renewed and refreshed.

Photo info: Canon EOS 450D, Canon EF-S 18-55mm IS@42mm, f8@1/160, ISO 200, raw file converted to JPEG in DxO Optics Pro.