A High Cairngorms Camp In The Wind

Sunset

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.

Strath Nethy

I made a little video of the trip

A brief video of a walk over Geal Charn in the Lochan na h-Earba region

 

A Heatwave Walk In A Doomed Landscape

Lochan na h-Earba

Hillwalking in a heatwave is hard work, especially carrying camping gear. The forecast was for a few days of clear skies and light winds when I planned the trip. After became a forecast for a heatwave I decided to go anyway and modify my plans if necessary.

I’d been planning to visit the Ardverikie area south of Loch Laggan since March when the Scottish Government granted permission (see here) for a huge pumped storage scheme that will drastically change this wild area. I wanted to see it again before it became a different and diminished place.

Foxgloves & the Abhainn Ghuibinn

I set off late, hoping to avoid the hottest part of the day. I don’t know if I did but it was certainly very hot, the air still and heavy. The land looked lush and green. Lines of red and white foxgloves edged the track. As long as I kept my place slow it was lovely walking.

Soon I reached Lochan na h-Earba under the walls of craggy Binnein Shuas, only 747 metres high but a rugged hill with a classic rock climb, Ardverikie Wall, on its cliffs. At the southern end of the lochan is a golden sandy beach, a lovely spot. A few tents dotted the grass at the sand’s edge. It is a grand place for wild camping.

Lochan na h-Earba

Lochan na h-Earba is a double lochan as the same name applies to the next lochan in this narrow glen between steep hills with just a half kilometre of flat land, Am Magh, between them. When the hydro comes this will disappear under the waters of a reservoir as the twin lochans become one with dams at both ends. That will be a sad day.

I considered joining the campers by the beach but there were still several hours of daylight left so I pushed on up a steepening stony path into Coire Pitridh and then to the Bealach Leamhain at almost 750 metres. Here I pitched my tent on rough ground that was probably boggy in wet weather. This night it was dry enough.

Loch a' Bhealaich Leamhain evening

Just beyond my camp I could look down on Loch a’ Bhealaich Leamhain, a jewel set between the steep rugged walls of two Munros, Beinn a’ Clachair and Geal Charn. This will be the upper loch of the hydro scheme, with a large dam at one end. Low sunlight lit the grasses on the bealach. The waters of the loch shimmered in the breeze. The sky and the hillsides glowed. A wild peaceful place. For now.

Bealach camp

I settled into my tent. The light wind kept off the midges for a while but died away as it grew dark. A few bites and I had the doors zipped shut, even though it was quite stuffy inside. The air did cool in the darkness though, dropping to 12°C, and I was able to sleep for several hours, until the rising sun woke me with brightness and a rapidly rising temperature.

Loch a; Bhealaich Leamhain morning

I wandered over to look at the loch again. The water was a deeper blue, undisturbed except for one little whisper of wind. The grasses glowing in the sunshine again but the slopes either side were shadowed. It felt an enchanted place.

By the time I set off the heat was building rapidly. A rough path took me up to the col between Creag Pitridh and Geal Charn. I had intended on climbing the former, another Munro, as it’s less than 100 metres above the col and just half a kilometre away before heading up Geal Charn but I was already feeling the effects of the heat and not quite enough sleep. A rest seemed much more attractive, especially as I found a shaded spot behind a boulder. It’s not often conditions are right for a nap outside during a summer’s day high in the Scottish hills, midges or the weather usually moving me on quickly. I was glad to take advantage of the opportunity.

Creag Pitridh

The rest lasted two hours, at least half of which I spent asleep. I felt rested and relaxed. So relaxed I could have stayed there all day. I wanted to climb Geal Charn though, or rather I wanted to descend Geal Charn. On the map I’d noticed a path marked on the north side of the hill that eventually curved down to Am Magh. I’d found no mention of it in any guidebook. Did it still exist? I wanted to find out. The situation looked excellent as it traversed across steep slopes high on side of remote Coire an Iubhair Mor.

Geal Charn

A steep stony path led up to the extensive plateau-like Geal Charn, a path not marked on the map, though it is well-used and described in every guidebook. As the path levels out the distinctive summit cone appears, its sides strewn with the pale stones that give the hill its name – Geal Charn meaning white hill.  On some maps it also has the alternative name Mullach Coire an Iubhair, the top of the corrie of the yew tree. I could see no trees in the corrie below nor did it seem likely that yew trees ever grew this high.  There’s a big well-built cairn and a circular trig point on the top. I rested here a while, enjoying the extensive view. In the sun my thermometer read 42°C. There was a breeze though, which took the edge off the heat.

Summit cairn and trig point

A short descent led to the steep edge of Coire an Iubhair Mor. I could see the path not far below and follow its snaking line across the corrie wall. It looked even better than on the map, and better still when walked. It’s well-constructed and wider than a walker’s path, made, I think, for ponies. In places it’s fading away, in other crumbling and narrow, but still easy to follow. The only tracks I saw were those of deer. Not far below a little lochan lay in the heart of the corrie.

Marvellous & neglected

I thought this path lovely and easily the best way up Geal Charn, which is an underrated hill. But I could see why the path was neglected. It’s on the wrong side of the hill for combining Geal Charn with Creag Pitridh and Beinn a ‘Clachair, the round of these three Munros being a standard route and recommended in every guidebook.

Looking back up the path to the rim of Coire an Iubhair Mor

Leaving the corrie rim the path ran down to the Allt a’ Mhaigh (Moy Burn). As I descended the breeze dropped away and the air became stifling. The clegs (horseflies) came out and I wasted precious energy slapping them away. Despite this and adding insect repellent to the sunscreen and sweat I was still bitten painfully a few times, smears of blood decorating my arms and legs.

Loch na h-Earba & Binnein Shios

Lower down the path faded away into boggy ground. I could see the north-easterly Lochan na h-Earba and craggy Binnein Shios, a companion to Binnein Shuas. Soon I was down on Am Magh and the estate track that runs along this long glen.

Am Magh & Lochan na h-Earba

Am Magh is another lovely peaceful place. There are a few trees here and many more on the flanks of the hills either side of the north-easterly lochan. If I’d been out for a second night I’d have camped here. As it was I tramped the track alongside the other lochan back to the golden beach and on to my car and the main road. The heat didn’t relent and I stopped regularly for water and a rest. I probably drank five times as much as usual on a day out. On the way home I heard that the temperature reached a record 32.2°C in Aviemore, which wasn’t far away.

Binnein Shuas & Loch na h-Earba

I’m glad I visited this area again. It’s how I shall remember it. If the hydro is constructed I doubt I’ll return.

There was a campaign against the hydro scheme. Parkswatch Scotland ran several excellent piece such as Free market landscape destruction by Nick Kempe and Shafting Ardverikie – the fate awaiting its lochs, corries, bens and fine old hill paths by David Jarmin. The last, which I only read after my walk, describes the Coire an Iubhair path.  The John Muir Trust made a formal objection too but all the campaigning was to no avail. A beautiful area of wild land is to be lost.

A video look at what's in my daypack

 

Rainbows, trees, & clouds: a walk over Geal-charn Mor

Rainbow over Loch Alvie

I wasn’t expecting rainbows to dominate a walk over Geal-charn Mor in the Monadh Liath hills. I thought it would be Brew Dog’s disastrous ‘Lost Forest’ tree-planting exercise that has resulted in long deer fences across the hills and masses of the new trees dying (see this Parkswatch Scotland post) that occupied my thoughts. However the weather took control with a series of stunning rainbows, dark rain squalls racing across the sky and a fierce chilling wind. This was not flaming June!

Cairn Gorm & Cairn Lochan

The day began with a walk up the bulldozed track called the Burma Road. The lower forest was lush and green with the birches newly in leaf. As I left the trees I looked back over the woods to rain squalls streaking across the Cairngorms.

Old pines

Across the glen a few old pines graced the skyline on Creag Ghleannain. Below them I could just see many newly planted little trees. Brew Dog is in the process of replacing those that have died, completely unnecessarily as those old pines are a seed source. Reduce the deer numbers and the forest will return naturally. Further up the glen lines of vehicle tracks marked the slopes high up. I couldn’t see if the new trees here were dead or alive.

By the time I reached the top of the track the wind was strong enough and the showers prolonged enough for my waterproof jacket. I took the well-worn footpath up Geal-charn Mor. Despite recent rain the usually muddy sections were dry.

Geal-charn Mor

A low curving wall of stones around the summit trig point gave some protection from the wind. Sitting inside this for a snack and a drink I noticed a small patch of light quite a way below me. At first I thought it was a spot of sunlight though there was a strange hazy luminescent quality to it that didn’t seem right. Watching as it slowly grew I began to see colours appearing and I realised I was looking down on the gently curved top of a rainbow. I can’t remember seeing anything like this before.

Looking down on a raibow

I returned down the path that descends to follow the Caochan Ruadh burn. This is much pleasanter than the Burma Road, a real hill path not a wide bulldozed vehicle road. I passed through a gate in a long deer fence and soon saw masses of little trees poking through the heather, each in a cleared area of mineral soil. I wonder how many will survive.

Cotton grass with rainbow

A few springs were sluggishly spreading water over the ground in places but it was still mostly dry and there was no danger of wet feet. Damper areas were covered with cotton grass, the fluffy white flowers bobbing in the wind. Rain squalls blasted past in a rush of wind, rainbows came and went. I watched the clouds streaming over Braeriach as I headed down towards Loch Alvie.

Loch Alvie

The final rainbow was a double one, the inner ring startlingly bright. I walked towards it for what seemed like hours, entranced. Then it faded into rain as I finished the what had been a more glorious walk than expected in wet fields and woods.

It rained

A Last Taste Of Winter In The Cairngorms?

Ben Macdui from Sron na Lairig

The warm dry weather of early April has given to colder conditions with snow on the hills. A wander up into the snow had me thinking it now felt more like December than July. But then, the Scottish weather is notoriously changeable.

Leaving the forest

My two-day walk took me through Rothiemurchus Forest into Gleann Einich and then up beside the roaring Beanaidh Bheag. The forecast was for a few showers at first and then a dry afternoon and evening. A little rain fell a few times as I walked through the pines but never enough to have me putting on waterproofs. So when a shower became a little heavier I assumed it too would quickly fade away so I just kept walking. It didn’t fade away and I was getting wet. On went the waterproof jacket though not yet overtrousers as the rain was coming straight down and my legs were still dry.

Rain!

The sky was grey and mist shrouded the tops of the hills. I could see snow below the ragged edges of the clouds. Leaving the trees I followed the track beside the rushing Am Beanaidh as the rain grew stronger. Reaching the Beanaidh Bheag I turned up beside this burn. There’s no path and I was soon walking though deep heather, sodden deep heather that quickly soaked my trousers. On with the overtrousers, not for dryness, it was too late for that, but for warmth as a cold breeze was chilling my legs.

Am Beanaidh

Above me steep slopes faded into a fringe of snow and mist. I had thought of heading up that way and camping in one of the magnificent northern corries of Braeriach. It didn’t seem an appealing idea now. I’d camp down here I decided. If I could find a dryish site. The tussocky ground oozed water everywhere. Two weeks before in the hot dry spell I’d camped in the Lairig Ghru, just two kilometres or so from here in a straight line, on a site that I thought would usually be sodden. It would be today.  

Camp in the morning

The tussocky ground oozed water everywhere. Eventually I spotted a flattish area not far from the burn. There were pools of water nearby but it seemed the best I was likely to find so I stopped and pitched the tent. This was the third trip in a row on which I was using a Hilleberg Akto and this was the third different Akto, a replacement for the one that suffered a broken pole on a trip back in March (see this post) and which had gone back to Hilleberg.

Morning view

Once I was in my sleeping bag in the tent the world looked a lot friendlier. A few hot drinks and it seemed positively benign. The rain ceased sometime during the night and I woke to see sunshine on Sgoran Dubh Mor and Sgor Gaoith on the far side of Gleann Einich. It would be a while before that sun reached camp, if it did at all, as big clouds were piling up to the east. I could see more of the hills though. To the north-west mist was rising from Rothiemurchus Forest.

Mist & cloud

There was no frost, the overnight low being 1.5°C. There was much condensation, the flysheet soaked inside, the outside covered in rain, and I had to be careful not to push the inner tent against the damp walls. It was a pleasant camp though and I was happy to stay a while, drinking coffee and mulling over which way to go. Although cloud still covered Braeriach it had risen quite a way and I could see more of the snow, which came down lower than I’d expected.

Drying time

The sun did reach camp but not for long as the clouds were thickening. I draped damp gear over guylines and trekking poles. Briefly, as light rain soon began.  I wondered how easy it would be to climb the slopes to Braeriach. I thought the snow was probably soft but I didn’t know that. I hadn’t brought an ice or crampons. If they were needed I’d have to turn back. Above camp a gentler broad ridge led up to Sron na Lairig, a subsidiary top of Braeriach. If I went that way I could then join the main route up Braeriach and take that to the summit or else just descend into the Lairig Ghru and then Rothiemurchus Forest. It seemed sensible to go that way so I did.

Coire Beanaidh

The snow was soft but higher up it was ankle to shin deep and progress was slow, especially as it was slippery in places, the wet snow sliding off wet rocks. An ice axe would have been no use but I was glad of my trekking poles. I’d probably have fallen over a few times without them.

Braeriach ridges

I’d never been up this ridge before – there’s no path and I doubt many come this way - and I enjoyed the excellent views across Coire Beanaidh to Braeriach. The clouds were dramatic now, towering up above the mountains. Just before the flat top of Sron na Lairig boot prints appeared. I was joining the popular way to Braeriach. A rough track had been made through the snow by a half dozen walkers or so. I could see no-one. There was a cold wind here and I donned my insulated jacket as I wandered round admiring the views to Ben Macdui and Braeriach. Up here it was wild and wintry. It felt wonderful!

Braeriach from Sron na Lairig

I was content enough with Sron na Lairig not to go further. I realised that if I went up Braeriach I wouldn’t be back down until well after dark. Heavy rain was forecast for later too. I hopes to be down before that arrived.

Across the Lairig Ghru to Cairn Lochan

The walk down the long Sron na Lairig north ridge above steep crags dropping into the Lairig Ghru was superb, the views breath-taking and spectacular. I hadn’t been this way for several years and I’d forgotten what it was like. I paused often to look down at the tiny narrow thread of the Lairig Ghru path far below. Walking, I had to keep an eye on the ground in front, as the snow was more slippery here as the terrain was rockier than the ridge I’d ascended. I skidded quite a few times.

Creag an Leth-choin

The snow faded away lower down the ridge. Two runners passed me. Soon I was down in the Lairig Ghru and walking out to Rothiemurchus Forest. On cue the rain began and I finished the walk back in waterproofs. I didn’t mind. I’d enjoyed this taste of winter, maybe the last until the first snows of the autumn.

Camp & Braeriach

A Sunny Walk Through The Lairig Ghru to An Garbh Choire

Camp in the Lairig Ghru below Sron na Lairig

Early April has been a time of warmth and sunshine. A few days ago I sat on the summit of Cairn Gorm, shirt sleeves rolled up, gazing at the golden-brown hills, the snow on which I’d camped less than three weeks before gone. It felt and looked more like July than April.

Summit of Cairn Gorm, April 9

As we approach the middle of the month the weather is changing though, the sunshine soon to be a memory. Snow is forecast for Cairn Gorm, rain for the glens.

During the hot weather I had one overnight trip. I’d looked down into rocky defile of the Lairig Ghru many times during the last few years but I hadn’t walked through this magnificent pass since a trip with Tony Hobbs in October 2022 when the weather was wet and windy. It was time I went back in more benign conditions.

Leaving the forest

As on the trip with Tony I started out in the wonderful Rothiemurchus Forest, slowly climbing through the magnificent old pines until these began to fade away and I could see the cut of the pass not far ahead. A late start meant as the steep sides began to close in I was soon in shade though the hills above glowed in the evening sun. A chill breeze blew down the pass between the craggy northern sentinels of Creag an Leth-choin and Sron na Lairig.

Creag an Leth-choin catching the late sun.

I camped just before darkness fell on a patch of rough grass between two arms of the stream that runs out of the Lairig, the summit of which wasn’t far above. The ground was dry though I guess it’s damp most of the year and not that good a place to camp. On this occasion it was fine.

The cold breeze kept me in the tent*. Thin clouds meant there was no starry sky so I had no incentive to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag.

Waiting for the sun

Dawn was chilly, the temperature down to -2.5°C. There was ice in my water bottles. The days might be hot but the nights were still cold. When I ventured out the ground was crunchy with frost. But high above the sun was brightening the hills. I thought how often I’d waited for sunshine and warmth to reach a cold camp, how many mornings had been like this. It must be hundreds. I’d relished every one. An early riser passed by on the path not far above the camp

An early morning walker passes by

The sunshine arrived just as I was starting to pack up, causing a delay as I took pictures of the camp in the new bright light and waited for the light dew on the tent to dry. Then It was hefting the pack and heading up to the boulder fields that lace the pass, making the walking awkward. This is a rough, rugged, hard place.

Sunshine!

Beyond the top of the pass there’s not much of a descent at first as the path, such as it is, wends a way past the three Pools of Dee, one of the sources of the river Dee. Once past the last of these dark waters, hemmed in by steep, stony slopes, the view opens out. The Allt na Lairig Ghru emerges from a boulder field and begins its race down the slopes. Soon it will join the Allt a’ Garbh Choire to form the infant river Dee.

A Pool of Dee

The main Lairig Ghru route keeps to the left of the stream. I was heading into An Garbh Choire though and took a less distinct path on the right that curves away from the Lairig Ghru and into the mouth of this huge corrie, one of the finest in the Cairngorms. Away down the glen I could see the silver thread of the young river Dee twisting between the steep dark slopes of Cairn a’ Mhaim and Bod an Deamhain (the Devil’s Point).

Sgurr a' Mhaim, Bod an Deamhain, & the River Dee

Soon my attention was seized by the huge spread of cliffs around An Garbh Choire. There was still much snow though not the usual amount for this time of year given that snow usually lingers here longer than anyone else. Shapely pointed Sgurr an Lochain Uaine, often overshadowed by higher neighbour Cairn Toul, stood out in the sunshine. On the other side of the corrie huge rock pinnacles rose out of the smaller Coire Bhrocain to the summit of Braeriach.

Sgor an Lochain Uaine & An Garbh Choire

I sat on a rock and admired the tremendous view. The sun was hot. I looked at the steep stony slopes leading up to Coire Bhrocain. I planned going up those and then on to Braeriach. It looked hard work in this heat with a big pack. Maybe a snack and some water would energise me. It didn’t. I was just happy to sit here and absorb the wild beauty all around.

Back through the Lairig Ghru

Eventually I conceded that I didn’t have the desire to climb further. This was enough. I’d retrace my steps back through the Lairig Ghru, no hardship as it’s such a fine route and the light and shadows and views would be different.

Looking back to Creag an Leth-choin from the top of the forest

Notes:

During the walk I took some little videos which I put together for my YouTube channel. My last post has the link to this. I am still learning how to make passable videos!

The Hilleberg Akto in the Lairig Ghru

*The tent was my original 30-year-old Hilleberg Akto, which I’d used on my continuous round of the Munros and Tops in 1996. I was using it for the first time in many, many years as it’s the 30^th anniversary of its launch. It performed faultlessly.