Mission accomplished...all the Munros finally ticked!
By Sean Kelly
At about 12.05pm on Thursday 7th August, in the company of several thousand midges... together with hail, driving sleet and wind, I finally grasped the summit cairn on the second slightly higher top of Ben Lui in the Crainlarich Hills. This was a journey that had started on a fine August day some 46 years back when I first traversed Meall Dearg on the Aonach Eagach ridge, in the company of Paul Chapman (son of the artist George Chapman of Monitor fame). At that time there were fewer than 100 who had climbed all the Munros, let alone the multitudes that today throng these hills in pursuit of this obsessive ambition.
I had 13 outstanding mountains to climb on this stravaig into the Highlands, and with the exception of Ben Lui and nearby satellite peak, Beinn a'Chleibh, they were all remote summits with demanding access problems. However this was somewhat eased by the judicious use of an old mountain bike, until leaky valves curtailed its use.
The holiday started at Braemar, in the company of Harold, my companion on many Munro sorties. Our first day involved a bikeride along the Geldie burn, and Geldie Lodge (a ruin) the starting point for An Sgarsoch and Carn an Fhidhleir. An excellent stalkers' path cut through the heather and easy ascent to the first summit of Carn an Fhidhleir. The fine morning had now given way to heavy clouds and a stiff breeze but relatively easy ground to the adjoining top of An Sgarsoch, and extensive views in all directions. A steep heather descent regained the stalkers' path and so to a good run down on the bikes back to Braemar, and evening meal at the Bistro. A 40km day!
Beinn Bhrotain and me have history as two failed attempts testify. Today however I could not blame the weather or faulty maps as we biked into Glen Dee and up past White Bridge to a small stable where we abandoned the bikes. Our way now went via Glen Geusachan a half hidden, dark forbidding glen lying deep within the recesses of the Cairngorms. A good path took up into this remote glen but soon evaporated to leave us toiling through long grass and heather. By now the weather had taken a turn for the worse as a steady rain was falling as we climbed slowly up to the outflow from Loch na Stuirteag, and hopefully easier going towards out first top, Monadh Mor to arrive some 6 hours after leaving the car.
The ground ahead was easy terrain and we made good time up and across to the sister peak of Beinn Bhrotain tipping the height scales in excess of 3,800 ft, a chance to reflect and photograph this very extensive panorama from its lofty summit. Even the sun put in an appearance as we descended south-east towards Carn Cloich-mhuilinn, now deleted from Munro's original list.
To reach the stalkers' path in Gleann na Muice it is necessary to actually wade two rivers. The crossing of the Abhainn Strath na Sealga via a shingle bank and boots hanging from my neck was delightful in the early morning sun, but the Abhainn Glenn na Muice was still in spate, and so I mistakenly opted to walk the trackless left bank of the river into the far recesses of the glen. Progress was extremely tedious in wet heather, bracken and peak-hagged terrain, and hopes of dry feet soon a distant memory. A stream issued from the small lochan sandwiched between Beinn a'Chlaidheimh and Sgurr Ban, a stiff 600 metre climb from the valley, but thankfully much better, drier ground. There was no sign of the others, and so I continued on over Sgurr Ban to the marvellous summit of Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair, clambering across a jumble of over-sized quartzite blocks. I briefly stopped for lunch and take in the wonderful panoramic view from this remote lofty perch. On the descent I encountered the only other person during my round, travelling in the opposite direction. A minor top, Meall Garbh, can be avoided on the right by a traversing path that eventually leads to Beinn Tarsuinn's sloping platform of a summit. Very imposing crags dropped steeply into Glenn na Muice and no sign of any way off the ridge.The Fisherfield Four had been reduced to three, because recent satellite mapping techniques had deleted Beinn a'Chlaidheimh to mere Corbett status. I had walked into Shenavell, a bothy situated in the heart of the Fisherfield Forrest and ideally located to access these remote peaks. However this particular year the midges were a serious problem and others staying at the bothy had head-nets much as bee-keepers. I just swatted and scratched. Crossing the Abhainn Strath na Sealga here can be problematic in damp weather, and Saturdays rain had swollen the streams so much so, that others who were hoping to cross to a good camping site, abandoned this option when their ski-pole failed to locate the river bottom. They thankfully retreated to the bothy as the rain eased and the pink of sunset gilded the tops of Beinn Dearg opposite, with promise of a much better day ahead.There are three ways into Ben Alder and all involve long approaches and a bothy base. Culra is an ideal setting, but has recently been found to contain asbestos and so is shortly to be demolished. The problem is easily solved by biking up to the bothy along initially a good track past Ben Alder Lodge and Loch Pattack to a small bridge below the bothy. This is an essentially flat ride of over 15km until the final very rocky climb up to the footbridge. A fine stalkers' path meanders alongside Loch a'Bhealaich Bheithe before a short ascent to the Bealach separating Ben Alder from its neighbour, Beinn Bheoil. I turned right and headed for the vast summit plateau (over 160 acres of ground above 1066mts) of Ben Alder. On the way I also encountered the highest loch in the highlands, Lochan a' Garbh Choire, which was capped with three feet of ice! Again, I luckily had another grand view from the summit. On my return to the bealach, looking back I saw two figures briefly on Ben Alder's distant summit, the only walkers I was to see all day. Indeed throughout the 10 days I only encountered others on Ben Lui, which was absolutely teeming in comparison. Once across the bealach, good going led to the shapely minor top of Sron Coire na h-Iolaire, perched magnificently above Loch Ericht. I continued northwards to the rounded summit of Beinn Bheoil, and an easy descent to the outward stalkers' track back to my bike at the footbridge. I was greeted by heavy rain and impressive rainbow as I contentedly pedalled back past Lock Ericht to the Rav at Dalwinnie.
Lurg Mhor is another very remote Munro, sitting deep within the Loch Monar estate. To attain its distant top, it is necessary to ascend a Corbett (Ben Tharsuinn) and another Munro, Bidein a'Choire Sheasgaich, and both again on the return. A day with over 6200 feet of climbing apart from the 29km of travel. In the morning a dramatic shock to discover a flat tyre when the bike was removed from the bike-rack atop the Rav. It was a five and a half km trudge up to the repaired wire bridge that spanned the Allt a'Chonais, but thankfully there was an excellent stalkers' path that led on to the Bealach Bernais.Time was pressing as I passed the furthest point of the walk after over six hours toil, and headed in the direction of a bealach and peat hags below A'Mhaighdean, before a right turn into the infant beginnings of Gleann na Muice, and still little evidence of any stalkers path. Five weary hours later I was back at Shenavell as the promised rain arrived. Shouldering my retrieved heavy sack, I climbed up the toilsome track that led back over An Teallach's boggy flank to Coire Hallie in a little under three hours. As it started to grow dark, and the rain and wind was felt, a minor scare when an unexpected lochan appeared below and no sign of the bulldozed track to Coire Hallie. Had I, like Munro, walked into the wrong valley? Panic ensues, until a quick reassuring glance at the map, and fifteen hours after setting out, I finally made the car, very wet, and somewhat worse for wear.
It was a beautiful day as I progressed along this superb range of hills, only annoyed that the bike fiasco had made me forget to pack my camera. I had thoughtfully taken lots of food and drink, and so stopped often to take in the view and refresh. Bidein a'Choire Sheasgaich (known by many as Cheesecake) was guarded by steep imposing cliffs, and no way forward seemed possible. However the solution was revealed by a series of small cairns that led this way and that, until eventually faced with a near vertical rock fissure streaming with water. It was resplendent in good clean sharp holds and allowed access to another rather dirty gully that pierced the upper cliffs. And so the way ahead over several bumps and small lochan to this fine summit, and Lurg Mhor ahead. A broad easy ridge finally gained this remote top and splendid views down to lonely Loch Monar. The adjoining Atterdale Estate owner wants to reintroduce the wolf to these hills to control deer numbers and overgrazing. Attaining the isolated top of Lurg Mhor could be a whole lot more exciting!
The final day saw me parking the Rav beside the River Lochy some 9km to the west of Tyndrum, and carefully negotiating the slippery stepping stones aided by ski-poles. The previous night in the hostel another walker warned me about the dreadful state of the path through the woods and now after a couple of days rain everything was dripping, mostly onto me. Previous attempts at climbing Ben Lui had been stopped by my failure to cross the Eas Dalmh that issued from the Fionn Choirein above. Today however I was in determined mood and ignored my previous course, and continued up the east path which led unexpectedly to a footbridge, not marked on the map. It gave easy access to a forest track, and another footbridge and marker cairn designating the required footpath into the Coire. It was a mud fest stumble all the way to the forest gate, and escape from the confines of the damp woods. Progress and my mood improved and I made good speed up this much improved path that debauched onto the high col separating Ben Lui and its sister peak of Beinn a'Chieibh. The hills were shrouded in mist with intermittent rain as I pushed on to the twin tops of Beinn a'Chieibh, which fortuitously cleared of cloud as I approached the true summit. Ben Lui still sported a cloud-cap as I retraced my footsteps back to the bealach and a daunting haul up to my final Munro. Now the weather did its worst as rain, hail and sleet battered against my waterproofs, and I just put one foot in front of the other, and pulled my hood tighter. Suddenly, my concentration was disturbed by a faint sound, rather like a dog barking from somewhere in the vicinity of the north west ridge. But I could see nothing. Head down and ever upwards into the thick mist that hid Ben Lui from view. The end arrived quite unexpectedly and a shapely rocky top with cairn revealed as the clouds parted for a few brief minutes. Others also arrived at the same time which was fortunate as I passed someone my camera for this rather special moment to be recorded, and then the dogs that I had faintly heard barking earlier, also arrived. 2 Springer Spaniels, what could be better or more appropriate. Everybody was shaking my hand and congratulations all round from those present. This was followed by 'What next?'
In fact, nearly everyone I have met since has uttered this phrase. There is no next. My intention was only to climb the Munros, as they are the major peaks that comprise the Scottish Highlands. They are in many ways the true original list, first defined by Hugh Munro in 1891. That is until the SMC decide to update what constitutes a Munro, yet again!
Click on the following link for a detailed account of my the other Munros and how it all began
