Sherwood Forest

Saturday 17th November 2007

This year I decided that I wanted to do more walks than in previous winters when I have tended to vegetate and put on weight. I am always desperate for the spring when I can get back out and enjoy myself, well not this year. With no more holidays until Christmas Saturdays are my only opportunity for fun so whenever the weather forecast is favourable I am going out for a walk, however I am not going far. I find it frustrating when the time spent driving to a walk is longer than I actually spend walking (plus with the soaring price of petrol it’s not cheap). To prevent this I have drawn a circle on a map, centred on my home town, with a radius of 50 miles and declared that I’ll only do walks within that area. The walk I did in Dove Dale a couple of weeks ago was just inside this circle, even though the actually driving distance was 60 miles. This walk was a similar distance away but unlike Dove Dale it was in an area I had never actually been before: Sherwood Forest.

I find it amazing that I was never taken to this area as a child whereas the Peak District was done to death, so with bright sunshine forecast I set off early and I was in the village of Edwinstowe for 9.30 and heading towards the Major Oak. Robin Hood supposedly hid under this tree, but I had never visited it, so I now corrected this oversight in my upbringing by heading straight for the Major Oak, passing many other old oak trees on the way. The vast majority of trees in this country are not very old, so to be passing these huge, old trees was a humbling experience, but none of them compared with the sight of the Major Oak when I arrived. Forget about Robin Hood as it is silly to think this particular tree has had any association with the outlaw, even if he actually existed, but this is still a huge, really impressive looking tree that deserves all the attention bestowed on it even without it’s supposed legendary history. All trees are special, but this one commands special treatment for its great age, regal poise and majesty, and it’s sheer enormity.

With reluctance I left the Major Oak and headed through the forest joining a bridlepath as it proceeded northwards and entered Budby South Forest. With hindsight I should have stayed within the country park, as instead I was passing an army training ground on an old track through a wilderness with few trees. I was fenced in and couldn’t really enjoy the open scenery, even though it was amazing to see such unspoilt country in Nottinghamshire of all places. On returning back to the edge of the forest I walked along a cycle way to Hazel Gap and there I followed the Robin Hood Way into Duncan Wood and along Freeboard Lane until I reached the A614. During this time the sun had come out, as promised, and revealed a lovely day to be out walking, but unfortunately it wouldn’t last. Heading north for a short distance I rejoined the Robin Hood Way and entered Clumber Park, a National Trust property that is apparently a popular tourist attraction (even though I'd never heard of it).

Dropping down to a minor road I crossed a ford and entered Hardwick Village coming up to the picturesque Clumber Lake. I really wish I had taken my camera (no batteries - the picture of the Major Tree above was taken off the internet) as the views across the lake were stunning with the sunlight sparkling off the lake and with a wide sweep of trees on the other side. Following the Robin Hood Way, I walked around the edge of the lake through the trees and towards the visitor centre. Along the way the skies clouded over and as I was having lunch it even rained; the sunny weather that I'd been hoping for hadn’t lasted very long. Quickly departing from the depressing tourist trap I continued along the lake shore as far as Clumber Bridge where, on the other side, I found a narrow path through the trees and continued my walk beside the lake that was now little more than a river. At Carburton Bridge I plunged into the trees again and joined the Carburton Border track on the edge of the park, and at a sign on the right that said “Welbeck Estate, No Public Access” I turned onto the forest track. In Scotland such signs wouldn’t be allowed as there is a right to roam anywhere, but in England and Wales this is not the case, and I think it is shameful. Technically I was trespassing on this track, but I was only passing through, and what harm was I doing? It’s silly. Crossing a road I followed a bridlepath through the woodland in the rest of the Welbeck Estate back to the Hazel Gap.

Rejoining the Robin Hood Way again, I walked through the Gleadthorpe Plantation, over the River Meden, and back into the Sherwood Forest Country Park. Walking beside Busby South Forest, which I had been through earlier, I went to the Centre Tree (whatever that is) and turning left I made straight for the Major Oak again. After another look at this majestic oak tree I followed the bridlepaths back into Edwinstowe just as the light was failing. This was a long walk, but I can’t help being a little disappointed by it. I had passed through an awful lot of woodland and once the weather had greyed my enthusiasm dimmed with it. I think it was maybe too long a walk with too little variation in my surroundings. It may be alright to walk for 7 or 8 hours over mountains but woodland gets a little monotonous for that long with nothing to see but trees all day.

High Level Round of Dove Dale

Saturday 3rd November 2007

With the autumn well advanced all mountain walking was now on hold until the spring (I don't like really walking in the winter as the weather can get really bad this time of the year, however, I just don’t have any holidays left till Christmas), but I can still go for easy walks that are not far from where I live and the Peak District is always good for an easy walk. I got this walk from the Walking Britain website which is a good source of easy walks (well, easy for me) and is more importantly, free. The walk started from the big car park near Thorpe Cloud which I have previously vigorously avoided, mainly because you have to pay (but it was only £2 so what was the fuss about?). During previous visits to the area I have parked in the free car park on the other side of Thorpe despite needing to climb back over the hill at the end of the walk. Thankfully that wasn’t necessary for this walk.

Right at the start of the walk I climbed Thorpe Cloud, which is something I have not done on almost all my previous visits to the area, in fact I had been up Thorpe Cloud only once before and that was over twenty years ago when I was a child. The route I now took though was much rougher than the one I’d taken all those years ago as after crossing the footbridge I headed straight up the hill on the edge of the steep ridge. The rocks under foot were very slippery which made the going rather perilous and at the summit (if one can use such a word for a hill less than 1000 feet high) the rocks were very slippery so traversing the summit ridge was also rather tricky but this was easy compared with the descent.

There is a clear path straight down to the stepping stones that is very steep and rocky and in the damp weather it was almost lethal. Despite my utmost care I slid down the hill and at one point I slipped over; I’m sure most of the time the path is fine but on this day not only me but everyone else was finding it very difficult. I must say I was wearing old walking boots that I'd not worn since they split at the heel while on the Isle of Arran last Easter (and for some reason hadn’t thrown out). I was trying to see whether they were worth keeping and it could be said that the sole has actually worn out giving me no grip at all on the wet rocks (but did they ever?). At the end of the walk both my feet were soaked and not just from the slit at the back, so the boots are now in the dustbin.

Eventually I did manage to get down the hill to the famous Stepping Stones in Dove Dale and after a hop across, and back again, I proceeded along the valley. Soon I left the crowds behind and took a path up the eastern side of the valley onto a clear, but narrow path high above the valley floor. On reading the route description I had assumed I would be staying on the main path until I got to the Lover’s Leap and I only really took this narrow path because it looked more interesting. Re-reading the description it appears I was going the right way, but this path did not go to Lover’s Leap, which I believe is lower down near the bottom of the valley. My path came out onto open grassland and petered out high above Lover’s Leap, and certainly did not start at Lover’s Leap.

After admiring the view up and down the valley I headed further up the hillside towards Moor Barn which was clearly visible. As I approached the barn the gloomy, damp weather decided it had had enough and the clouds broke to reveal a lovely, sunny day for the rest of the walk. A concessionary path, signposted to Tissington, now materialised despite not being on the map so I followed this past the barn and on to a right of way (just as the description said) which I followed north through many grassy fields. I’ve got to say I didn’t find this section of the walk particularly interesting as walking through fields holds no interest for me. I prefer wild, uncultivated country where man's interference has been kept to a minimum.

Eventually I reached Shining Tor with its outstanding views of Dove Dale both north and south where I just had to stop and admire the views, so I also had my lunch. Onward I descended into Milldale where the crowds were so thick I quickly escaped up a path that was marked as dangerous. I think I would have taken this path even if it wasn’t on my route since the look of it was just too tempting to ignore. A steep tricky ascent carried me high out of the village before slowly descending back down into the valley heading south on the western side of the river, the opposite side from all the crowds. The path became very tricky when approached the river and would obviously be impassable following heavy rain, but I had no such problems on this walk as I gingerly made my way south.

Upon reaching Hall Dale the path improved and half way to Ilam Rock I left the valley bottom to climb steeply up the hillside. The route description I was following said that I would reach the Rock before climbing and the map seemed to agree, but that is maybe no longer the case as the path zigzagged steeply up the hillside on a manufactured path to the edge of the wood. There now followed an enjoyable walk just inside the wood high above the valley that all too soon ended at a gate that led me out of the wood. Again the map seemed to be incorrect as it claims the path descends steeply into the wood at this point, but instead the path maintained a level course below a farm track just above the tree line before swinging around Air Cottage and joining the farm track.

Arriving at Ilamtops Farm the route description claimed I would now see a signed right of way, but I saw none and when I followed the route indicated on the map I came across a locked gate. Firm in my conviction that I was going the right way I climbed this gate and proceeded on to Bunster Hill, and again I had to climb over a fence to get onto the Access Land. Give me Open Country any day. Passing over several tumuli I eyed the narrow grassy ridge of Bunster Hill and greedily decided that I would go over the eastern ridge to savour its delights. Oh dear. The southern ridge would have been better idea because the eastern ridge has a bit of a flaw as there is no route down from the end. Near the bottom the ridge widens before ending in rocky cliffs with bramble-filled sheer slopes. Of course all this still didn’t stop me and when I'd decided that I’d gone far enough I tried to descend the extremely steep bramble-filled south-eastern slopes. Why do I do this to myself? Eventually I made my way across the slopes (any direct descent was impossible) to the easier, though still very steep, south-western slopes. Descent was now quick and relatively easy with the car park only a short distance away. This was a good and even rather tricky walk, which shows that even the Peak District can throw up some challenges.

Miller’s Dale and Monsal Dale

Monday 8th October 2007

With a day off work, instead of walking in some far off place, I had visited my brother and sister over the weekend, then with a day to fill before going to a concert in Nottingham I decided to go for a walk in the Peak District, to the place of many walks from my childhood and beyond. There are few places in the Peaks I haven’t been so I didn’t try to find one of those places, instead I did a nostalgic walk in an area much visited in my childhood, though little since. I parked at the Lees Bottom car park on the A6 in Monsal Dale, which I remember using before when I walked to the start of the Monsal Trail at Wye Dale and then walked all the way to Monsal Head. My plans now were a little more modest. Crossing the road I took a path through the trees climbing steeply up the hillside onto a tongue of land that separates Taddington Dale and Monsal Dale. Passing through Brushfield Hough I reached a byway and turned left to walk through the lower, middle and top farms of Brushfield. Continuing along the byway I climbed above High Dale and passing over the headland I descended through a nature reserve into Miller’s Dale.

Now my childhood memories came flooding back as the view of the valley below with Ravenstor Youth Hostel also visible evoked memories of walking in the Peak District as a child that must have kindled my love of walking now. Dropping down the hill I reached the Monsal Trail, an old railway line that once ran between Matlock and Buxton. Crossing the line I took the path down to Litton Mill, which I remember as being a derelict, eerie place, but has now been transformed into luxury apartments. However, I don’t think the air of the place has been improved as to me it still feels oppressive. Beyond the old mill the character of the scenery improved drastically as man's oppression was replaced by a delightful walk through the fantastically narrow Miller’s Dale. The river trickling by, with low cliffs either side of the valley through dense woodland gave me a very satisfying and pleasurable feeling that added to the nostalgia that I have about walking through this valley; Miller’s Dale is a wonderful place that will always have a special place in my memories.

Eventually the river widened and the valley opened out into Water-cum-Jolly Dale, a glorious place, before I reached Cressbrook Mill, which although a nicer place than Litton Mill has also been turned into luxury apartments. Beating a hasty retreat I climbed back up to the railway line that had been inaccessible as it passed through closed tunnels (they were opened in 2011). Continuing along the Monsal Trail I passed the site of Monsal Dale Station and over Monsal Viaduct, which is an iconic picture of the line. Beyond the viaduct I climbed up to Monsal Head and took a look at the panoramic views of the valley as it sweeps around the corner. Descending from Monsal Head I took a path through the wood down into Monsal Dale and across the river by a footbridge. All that now remained for me was to have a pleasing walk through Monsal Dale, which is wider than Miller’s Dale and not as thrilling but still enjoyable and took me back to my car. This walk shows that one doesn’t really need to go up a mountain to have a thoroughly enjoyable walk.

Gowbarrow Fell

Saturday 15th September 2007

Once again during my journey, this time back from Scotland, I stopped off in the Lake District for a rest and a walk. I picked a fell that is not far from Penrith so gave me easy access from the motorway and is very popular, but few of the people who park in the large National Trust car park at Park Brow Foot actually go to the summit. I defied convention by actually going to the top of Gowbarrow Fell, and started by heading from Park Brow Foot on a path that heads away from the beck across the southern flanks of the fell overlooking Ullswater. Unfortunately the weather was poor, overcast and with the highest fells under cloud, but that was having little effect on my appreciation of the surroundings. Veering left I took a path that climbs the fellside to the south-eastern corner of the fell and the top of Yew Crag. After surveying my surroundings from the cairn at the top of the crag for a while, I headed off along the northern flanks of the fell. This was proving to be a fabulous walk as the path hugged the side of the bracken-covered fell gradually gaining height. I passed the ruins of an old shooting hut and turned west towards the summit crossing wetter ground until I reached the summit crag. Climbing atop this rocky outcrop I arrived at the trig point and the summit to tremendous views all around me, and despite the full car park no one else was there. With time progressing I missed out Wainwright's recommended descent over Green Hill and took a direct course down the fell to the river. I had a feeling that was where everyone else would be.

Descending steeply through the wet bracken I eventually reached a path that follows the river high above the narrow valley. Turning right I climbed up the path for a short distance before dropping steeply down to the river where I began to see where all the people were. Crossing a bridge I had a look at a fabulous gorge in the river and a waterfall, High Force, which I'd never seen before. It was really picturesque and I took loads of pictures as I slowly walked down beside the river, but there still didn't seem enough people to explain the full car park. Of course there was an obvious answer to that question which was answered when I reached another gully with an even larger waterfall: Aira Force. This was where everyone was, beside probably the best, most spectacular waterfall in the Lake District, and rightly the most popular. I have been there before but it is still an amazing sight and one that merited many pictures. Unfortunately my time was almost up in the car park and I had my niece's first birthday party to go to. Heading back to my car I reflected on what has been another great holiday. If only I didn't have to go back to work.

Stob Ghabhar

Friday 14th September 2007

My last walk of the holiday had variable weather from heavy rain at times to bright sunshine at other times and clear blue skies. I was walking in the Black Mount, a group of hills that I had walked past while doing the West Highland Way three years ago and yearned to be at the top of them rather than below. This was my chance to achieve that desire, but unfortunately I was only able to do half the Munros in the Black Mount, so the others will have to wait for another day. For this walk I parked at the Victoria Bridge car park near Bridge of Orchy and immediately I was plagued by midges. I'd been lucky this year with midges having not seen any on Skye in July and obviously none at Easter. It's surprising that I'd not previously experienced any on this holiday, but they were about to make amends. Quickly I finished getting ready and rushed off across Victoria Bridge as I tried to outpace the 'Wee beasties,' but whenever I stopped they resumed their attack.

Walking beside the river Abhainn Shira on a landrover track I reached a mountaineer's hut where a path headed up the hillside and a board detailed the restrictions in place due to deer stalking. It also surprised me that it had taken until now for deer stalking to cause a problem for me, but now it was severely restricting my movements. Taking a note of the details I headed up the, at times, boggy path beside the Allt Toaig enduring intermittent rain as I ascended. After a while I turned off to the right and climbed an even boggier path towards Stob a' Choire Odhair, and eventually, after a long walk across the broad top, I reached the summit where I was rewarded with amazing views over Rannoch Moor that was a awe-inspiring. The top of this Munro is a perfect place to view this huge marsh-land in all it's glory.

Turning my back on the moor I headed off the hilltop and descended the rocky western ridge to the bealach with Stob Ghabhar. At this point I had a look at Ralph Storer's book to check my route and discovered that I was supposed to cross the corrie to my right and then climb the ridge opposite. But this was not covered on the routes allowed due to deer stalking. Taking a look around me I thought "What the hell...", and headed off across the top of Coire Dhearbhadh. The pathless wet traverse took me across the Allt Coire Dhearbhadh and then suddenly I stopped dead. High above me on the ridge I was about to climb up was a small pack of deer. I suddenly felt incredibly guilty for they were all running away from me down the valley. When they had gone, and with enormous trepidation, I started climbing the ridge to the spot where the deer had been. All I really wanted was to get off this part of the hillside that I was not supposed to be on.

At the top of the ridge, at Aisre nan Each, I had my lunch while gazing out over Rannoch Moor seeing successive rain showers passing over the huge bog. As I ended my lunch the rain came upon me and fell heavily as I climbed the grass and rock ridge to the top of Sròn nan Giubhas. Just as I was hoping the rain was going to be as short lived as the previous showers I noticed blue skies to the north and hoped the rain would soon end, but that wasn't all. The blue skies that I had glimpsed were just a foretaste of what was to come. As I arrived on the wide summit plateau the sun came out turning everything into a very nice day with clear views across to all the mountains around me, including Ben Nevis on the horizon. Skirting around the top of the corrie with Coirein Lochain twinkling below I climbed up to the summit of Stob Ghabhar.

Once at the summit I was amazed by the stunning views that I could see all around me of mountains in all directions except across Rannoch Moor. The best views were to the north encompassing some of the highest and best looking mountains in the country, especially those around Glen Coe and Glen Nevis. I was mesmerised and couldn't help thinking that this was my last mountain of the year. I went home the next day and I would not get to see views like this again till next year. I didn't want to leave, but eventually, and with great reluctance, I left the summit and descended the narrow ridge eastwards. This ridge is called Aonach Eagach and even though it is nowhere near as bad as it's Glen Coe namesake I was still rather nervous as I crossed the short narrow ridge. At a 991m top I decided that I would spurn Storer's route down the widening ridge of Aonach Eagach in favour of the clear footpath north to the bealach.

I dropped very steeply down the rocky hillside until eventually, and with a bit of relief, I got to the bottom where I followed the path across the bealach. Halfway across I dropped south off the wide ridge onto an extremely muddy path that was an utter nightmare to negotiate. As I approached the point where I had left this path earlier the conditions underfoot improved and from there on I was able to enjoy the descent in the sunshine as I returned back down beside the Allt Toaig and later the Abhainn Shira. At first, this walk seemed like it was going to be really bad, due to the weather, but actually turned out to have some of the best weather of the holiday. I went home the next day with some regret as I had had a great time on this holiday doing some fantastic walks, though only when the weather was at its best, like at the end of this walk.

Buachialle Etive Mór

Thursday 13th September 2007

My original intention for this walk had been to go up the Black Mount, but that would require a lot of time and I was too slow setting off due to repeated trips to the shop (and a slow breakfast), soinstead I decided to do my planned walk for the next day: the Buachialle Etive Mór. I went up the wee Buachialle last year, but I'd never been to the top of the great gatekeeper for Glen Coe. Driving up from Crianlarich I parked at the car park just beyond Altnafeadh on the southern side of the road and walked beside the road to Altnafeadh taking the path opposite past Lagangarbh cottage and up into Coire na Tulaich.

This was a fabulous climb up a rocky, narrow corrie following a series of steps that intermittently followed the stream through stunning rock scenery that was awe-inspiring; I was enjoying every moment until I reached the scree. This seemed to go on forever and was very difficult for me to get a grip and left me having to walk on all fours with my hands on the stones for additional grip. Eventually I somehow managed to get up to more solid rocks and scrambled all the way up to the top. From there I had a tiring walk across a rocky terrain fighting against the wind to the summit of Buachialle Etive Mór, also known as Stob Dearg. I had fabulous views, despite the strong wind and overcast sky, but it wasn't clear which of the three small tops were the Munro. I think it was the middle top, and I think my Harvey map agreed with me though it's hard to tell. Whichever it was I went across to the end of the short summit ridge and looked out over the bleak Rannoch Moor in awe of my surroundings.

Coming down from the Munro I walked along the ridge over the 902m top and up to Stob na Doire. At 1011 metres it really deserves to be a Munro and it certainly looks like one, but it has not been afforded that honour. As consolation I had lunch on the top before continuing my traverse of the ridge descending steeply to the lowest point on the ridge (at 825m) and then climbed once more up to the top of Stob Coire Altruim. This top justly does not deserve to be a Munro as with barely any descent I walked to the end of the ridge and the second Munro of Buachialle Etive Mór, Stob na Bròige. With the entire length of the mountain completed I doubled back on myself, minimizing re-ascent by traversing the grassy southern slopes of Stob Coire Altruim, until I reached the top of Coire Altruim where I took the path down into the corrie, steeply at first and later scrambling beside the cascading stream.

This was a great walk down and I enjoyed every wonderful moment, but unfortunately it didn't last very long and soon I was crossing the River Coupall where I joined the path through Lairig Gartain and waded through bog after bog. My new boots were getting quite a testing, but that wasn't all. Before I reached the road it started raining, light at first but then heavier and heavier. With bog and rain to contend with I was relieved when I finally reached my car. Despite the way this walk ended I had a great time. The weather, even though it was still windy, was great and afforded me with amazing views across the densest area of Munros in Scotland. I could only hope the next day's venture onto the Black Mount would be as favourable.

Ben Ledi

Wednesday 12th September 2007

I only went up a Corbett on this walk because I had other plans for the morning; I visited the distillery at Glenturret, now bastardised as the Famous Grouse Experience. They seemed more interested in their blend than in the actual malt making process, and when I tasted the blend I was not impressed. It left a sour taste in my mouth, but when I tried the blend of just malts (no cheap grain whisky), it tasted quite good. Though that may have been the Highland Park in it, which I love. With my head full of the drams of whisky I headed off to the Trossachs to see what the fuss there was all about. My original intention had been to go up both Ben Venue and Ben Ledi today but after my visit to the distillery one of these had to go. I had decided that I would go up Ben Venue because it is more celebrated, despite being smaller and is right next to the Trossachs (whatever they are). In the event the road to the Trossachs was closed so instead of taking a long diversion I decided to go up Ben Ledi.

After parking beside an old railway line, south of Loch Lubnaig, I walked along the old line, now a cycle track, for a kilometre until I reached a sign that said "Ben Ledi". Surmising that this may just be the right way I headed off along the path climbing through Stank Burn Glen along manufactured gravelly paths into the corrie at the head of the valley. Despite the name and the heavy forestation this was quite a lovely place and I stopped to enjoy the surroundings and had my lunch while sitting on a large rock. On with my walk, the gravel path ended at a fence as the path continued on the other side across grass (and mud) up to the top of Bealach nan Corp. Onward up the grassy hillside I plunged into the clouds and later into rain. Except for on Monday, I had endured clouds at the top of every summit I'd visited in Scotland on this holiday so far.

Reaching the summit ridge I walked along what I'm sure would have been a delightful ridge in clear weather, but I was not so blessed. Eventually I arrived at the summit where there is a trig point, a shallow cairn and a little distance away was a metal cross marking a memorial to a mountain rescuer who was killed on Ben More. The conditions discouraged a prolonged stay so I left south-east along the ridge and descended over Meall Odhar and down below the clouds. Despite the rain stopping, the view, although extensive, was not great (perhaps it was just the poor light) as Ben Ledi lies near the Highland fault and everything I could see southwards was lowland, including a wind farm. The fabled Trossachs were shrouded in dark clouds and could not be seen clearly. Following the path, I turned left and dropped steeply down below Creag Gorm re-entering the forestry land and descended further beside the Corriechrombie burn plunging into the woodland back down to the road and my car. This was not a great walk, although it would have been helped by better weather, but it was too short to be really satisfying.

Ben Vorlich and Stuc a'Chroin

Tuesday 11th September 2007

The weather on this walk was a little mixed. In most places the day was rather sunny and pleasant, but a dark cloud hung over the mountain that refused to budge and cast a very grim shadow over the whole day. I parked near the bridge over the Ardvorlich Burn and proceeded along a track beside the burn that passes Ardvorlich House and up Glen Vorlich. The track climbed the steep valley up to a bridge over the Allt a'Coire Buidhe and from there a footpath led me up into the corrie. As I climbed ever higher on the path I gained the north ridge of Ben Vorlich and continued up onto the cloud-covered summit. It had been quite a struggle for me to climb that steep unrelenting ridge but that was all forgotten as I walked between the summit cairn and the trig point, but which was the actual Munro? Harvey reveals that it's the trig point.

Onward from Ben Vorlich I followed a path beside a line of rusting metal posts south-west off the mountain and down to Bealach an Dubh Choirein. In the patchy cloud I could see Stuc a'Chroin ahead of me with a big cliff barring my way. I was looking forward to the scramble up, so I was rather disappointed with the path that I was following as it went off to the left around the side of the cliff. Later, when I read Ralph Storer's account of a walk up these mountains, he describes a clear path scrambling up the cliff. Where has that gone? I almost feel cheated by the path that I followed as I would have enjoyed a scramble up that cliff-face. The path I did follow went up a wide gully behind the north top climbing steeply but easing the work through zigzags whenever possible. Once on top I walked south through the mist to the summit cairn where I had my lunch.

Having got rather cold during lunch I buttoned up and headed back to the north top spurning the clear descent path. After a look at the memorial on the at the north top I climbed down the large boulders to the obvious westerly descent path. Following this path down the north-western ridge I descended steeply into the top of Coire Fuadarach. At the bottom of the steep slope I took a fainter path that skirts around the top of the corrie past the bealach and across the western slopes of Ben Vorlich. Over the north-western ridge of Ben Vorlich I crossed the northern slopes of the mountain to rejoin the ascent path. My descent path was cleverly engineered to minimize reascent as I bypassed Ben Vorlich and avoided the rocky traverse of Bealach an Dubh Choirein.

Once back on the main path and away from Ben Vorlich the sun came out. I had seen distant valleys bathed in sunshine while I was sat under a dark cloud but now that I was free of Ben Vorlich's grip I was able to enjoy the sunshine for myself, so I had a lovely, sunny walk back down to the shore of Loch Earn and my waiting car. I have to say I don't think this was a great walk, as it seemed to be lacking something, maybe it was the lack of sunshine or good views, or maybe it was the lack of a good scramble up Stuc a'Chroin. But it was still an enjoyable walk.

The Tarmachan Ridge and Ben Lawers (again)

Monday 10th September 2007

The weather on this walk was much better than on the day before with bright sunshine and clear views from every mountain, unfortunately the wind was still quite strong, but you can't have everything. Starting from the Ben Lawers Visitor Centre I walked up the road for a bit to a track on the left that went over a burn and across the mountainside, soon I left the track and took a path that climbed the hillside. Just beyond a 923m top the path descended slightly before climbing steeply up the hill until eventually gaining the wind swept summit of Meall nan Tarmachan, the only Munro on the ridge.

Now began a fantastic traverse of this undulating and ever changing ridge. The clear path cunningly negotiated the many twists and turns and avoided unnecessary hilltops while steering a course for the successive prominent tops on the ridge. First on the list was probably the best, Meall Garbh, a tiny pinnacle-like summit that looked insurmountable from a distance. Beyond the summit was a narrow rocky ridge that was rather hairy in the strong wind, followed by a short scramble down a small cliff face. Next on the list was Beinn nan Eachan, which was tame in comparison, and that was followed by Creag na Caillich, but it wasn't the tops that was the appeal of this walk as the ridge itself was superb. All too soon I was at the end and descending the last top to a final treat: a path that skirted around the top of high cliffs along a narrow ledge. I enjoy paths like this, but even I found this one rather hair-raising.

Dropping down into a corrie I followed a path across somewhat boggy ground to a weir on the Allt Coire Fionn Lairige from where a clear path led me monotonously and eventually all the way across the hillside to the track that I had used on the outward journey and back to the Visitor Centre. There I had my lunch while sitting in my car and decided that since it was still early (2pm) I would go up the two Munros near the Visitor Centre, but not Ben Lawers itself as I'd already done that the day before. So setting off once again I walked along the tourist path towards Ben Lawers through the picturesque ravine of the Burn of Edramucky. This fenced off area shows what happens when you keep sheep off the hills and it looks so much better for it. Hillsides grazed by sheep are bland and dull whereas this area was full of colourful heather, bracken and young trees and is what mountainsides are supposed to look like. Damn sheep!

Leaving the enclosure I took the right-hand path that zigzagged steeply up the hillside onto the south ridge of Beinn Ghlas. The climb continued up the increasingly rocky terrain into the face of the increasingly strong wind until finally I made it up to the summit. Looking across at its neighbour, Meall Corranach, I was struck by the lack of a path up the tricky terrain from the col and by the rather dull appearance of its grassy top in comparison to the fabulous mountain I was on. I was reluctant to make the traverse and then my eyes strayed to Ben Lawers that was clear under the blue skies with a tremendous ridge to it from where I was. Without a moment's hesitation I started dashing down the ridge towards Ben Lawers before I could change my mind!

A steep rocky path brought me up to the summit that I had previously visited only 25 hours before, but the change in the weather was unbelievable. Instead of inhospitable conditions I had amazing views all around me including towards the three Munros that I had walked over the day before, and below was Lochan nan Cat, at the bottom of the corrie that I'd walked around then. I'd hardly got a view of them then but now they could be clearly seen. Another thing I noticed was that since the day before the wind had moved to a northerly from the westerly direction that I'd had then, and seemed to be slightly weaker, though not by much. After taking loads of pictures and enjoying myself no-end I left the summit and dropped back down to the col, where I took the smaller, lower path that bypasses Beinn Ghlas going through the bealach with Meall Corranach on my right, though I still had no desire to go up the grassy Munro. The rest of the walk down Coire Odhar was a breeze and as I passed through the enclosure once again I reflected on how much I was enjoying the descent. The pleasant scenery, the sunshine and the satisfaction of a great day's walk were really uplifting. 

Ben Lawers

Sunday 9th September 2007

The first walk in Scotland of my holiday was up one of the highest mountains in Scotland, Ben Lawers, which at 1214m it is just shy of four thousand feet, unfortunately the weather was rather poor with low cloud all day and exceptionally strong winds, especially at the top of the ridge. I parked at the Ben Lawers Hotel in Lawers by Loch Tay and started the walk by taking a path beside the Lawers Burn. After crossing a deer fence into the Ben Lawers National Nature Reserve the day's prospect could be seen ahead of me with long grassy slopes leading up to the high summits, hidden in clouds, on both sides of the valley, with a burn gradually veering to the left. A round of this corrie was going to be quite an undertaking, especially in this weather.

My first target was Meall Greigh on the right, so leaving the main path where it started to drop down towards the burn, I took a small path that gradually climbed the hillside away from the burn, with views of Loch Tay behind me. On reaching a stream I crossed and climbed beside it up the hill, continuing beyond the head of the stream to the top of the ridge where I found a path that led me up to the summit of my first Munro of the day, Meall Greigh. By now the wind had really picked up and it was a challenge to continue into the wind passing over the north-western top and down some very muddy ground to the bealach.

Ahead of me was the steep hillside of Meall Garbh rising into the clouds, so with grim determination I started the steep climb. At least I was sheltered behind the mountain from the strong winds, but if only that could have lasted! Eventually I reached the summit ridge, into the wind, but which top was the Munro? In the clouds I had no way of knowing as I proceeded along the undulating top; at one point I passed a cairn, but was it the summit? The path continued across a depression and rose to another cairn, and I think this one was probably the Munro but my Harvey map indicated that the actual top was at the end of the summit ridge and that didn't have a cairn. Despairing, I stopped in some shelter and had my lunch.

Even in the shelter it was very cold and I found myself rushing lunch towards the end so I could get moving again and warm up. With hindsight maybe I should have put my fleece on? Venturing back out onto the ridge I was immediately struck by a wind that became almost unbearable as I tried to make my way down from the summit. The wind continued unabated as I dropped down to the col and at times I was reduced to a crawl as I tried to minimise the impact of the wind. It's disturbing how much high winds can affect your vision: everything was blurred and even shaky as if my eye balls were being blown around in their sockets! All in all this descent was astonishingly tricky; I was relieved when I had crossed the bealach and was sheltered from the winds by the great cliffs below An Stùc.

Unfortunately these 'great cliffs' now had to be climbed, but the path continued it's well-designed route and weaved up the cliff-face. Half way up I was presented with a problem: the path seemed to split in two. Go right up a steep scramble or left around the corner, assuming that led anywhere. Of course I took the right-hand path because I had no idea where the left-hand path went. The scramble in the damp blowy weather conditions was quite hair-raising but I clung on (for dear life) and frantically searched for a hand-hold until I eventually managed to get up to the top of An Stùc. This time there was no doubt as to the location of the Munro with its small summit and a single top adorned by a cairn, where even the wind had slackened. Formerly An Stùc wasn't a Munro but when a reassessment gave it the same height as Meall Greigh there was no way of deciding which was the Munro and which was merely a top, so now both are Munros although really they are a twin Munro: two Munros on one mountain.

Descending to the bealach I withstood the wind and began to climb up to the Munro top, Creag an Fhithich, but I couldn't even stand at the summit because the wind was so bad. It was horrendous, and so at this point I decided that things were getting so grim I had no choice but to take my baseball cap off... Really it's surprising I hadn't done so earlier, but the hood on my cagoule is not very good. Without my cap the hood began sliding down over my eyes, which makes climbing a mountain a little difficult (!). Besides this I did find the wind a lot easier to cope with despite being no weaker, and so I was able to quickly climb up to my ultimate goal of the day: Ben Lawers.

Sheltered behind the summit rock, the conditions almost seemed benign but when I attempted to get up to the summit plinth I could barely stand. While at the summit I took a GPS reading and noted that this was my highest point of the year although it was exaggerating the reading at 1220 metres but it's still a tremendous height that would take a long time for me to descend. Heading off eastwards along a fabulous narrow ridge I slowly descended and came off the rocky ridge onto broad grassy slopes slowly plunging down the hillside. When I came out of the clouds I checked my GPS and was surprised to discover that I was still at 1000 metres. I felt like I should be much lower, but of course the scale of Ben Lawers puts the Lakeland Fells to shame.

Dropping further down the steep grassy slopes I eventually reached boggy ground at the foot of the slope, however traversing the bog proved to be not too troublesome. On reaching a burn I crossed it and joined a thin path on the far bank that I followed down to a weir where I recrossed the burn onto a clear path that I followed downstream until eventually I crossed it again to join my outward path that took me back down to the road. This day was really all about the wind on the exposed parts of the path. While in the shelter it was an ordinary cloud-covered walk, which frankly I would have preferred. It started to drizzle as I descended by the burn but that failed to dampen my enthusiasm for what was a great walk in real mountain scenery in very real mountain weather.

High Street and Kidsty Pike

Saturday 8th September 2007

This walk was at the start of a week spent in Scotland, and for a change I had driven up there, but to break the journey on my way to Scotland into two manageable trips I had stopped off to do this walk in the Lake District, though I didn't really need much of an excuse. Leaving the motorway at Junction 39 I headed across to Haweswater and parked at Mardale Head, which was filling up very quickly in the good weather. Setting off along the path I walked beside the reservoir shoreline to the Rigg, a conifer wood at the foot of the Long Stile ridge. From the bottom of the ridge I started the walk up, first on the northern side of the wall and then I crossed over to the other side joining the path which I followed all the way up to High Street.

I previously did this walk in December 05, when the weather was much worse than for this walk, I couldn't see anything from the ridge and suffered severe windchill at the summit. Now I was treated to clear blue skies and great views of all the nearby fells. (The fells further into the park were shrouded in mist, but I wasn't so afflicted on this eastern edge of the park.) The great views were complimented by a great rugged path that climbed up the ridge while minimizing unnecessary descents as it passes the Swine, Heron, and Eagle Crags, and finally up Rough Crag. The scrambly path then descended to Caspel Gate before I began to make the fun climb up Long Stile onto High Street.

I must say I didn't really get the most enjoyment from the ascent as it was just too hot which was making the going more tiring than would be expected, but once the summit plateau was gained the heat no longer bothered me and I was able to enjoy myself again. I walked south along the cliff top looking over the picturesque Blea Water and settled down to my lunch. With the stunning eastern views before me and the populous summit a good distance behind me I was really able to enjoy the solitude and scenery as I ate. When I had finished I climbed up to the crowded summit of High Street and after taking a look at the western views shrouded in low clouds returned to the eastern edge in haste.

Walking along the edge of the High Street plateau I descended to the straits of Riggindale gazing into the isolated valley as I went. Veering right I took the path at the head of Riggindale Beck and followed the Coast-to-Coast route bypassing Rampsgill Head as it heads towards Kidsty Pike. Two previous times I have been here and spurned Kidsty Pike because it had looked so insignificant from Rampsgill Head, but it's a Wainwright so I incorporated the top into this walk as I headed back down to Haweswater. It does feel like a proper fell with a good summit peak, it's just not worth making an effort for on its own. I think it's really Rampsgill Head that isn't a proper fell, but unfortunately it's bigger than Kidsty Pike, so let's just face it, these fells are just all wrong.

My descent from Kidsty Pike passed over grass before going through the fascinating collection of rocky knolls called Kidsty Howes. I had great fun hopping from one top to another with the views of Haweswater below opening up with every step. Once through I dropped steeply down to the bottom of the valley crossing Riggindale Beck and climbed back up to the top of The Rigg. Returning to the car park I prepared for another long drive that took me into Scotland, past Glasgow and Stirling and into Killin. It's a long way to drive after doing a tough walk and I don't think I'll be in a hurry to do it again.

Moel Siabod take three

Tuesday 28th August 2007

For the final day of this holiday I returned to a walk that I had done twice before, and both times failing to go up the Daear Ddu ridge, south of Moel Siabod, that was my intended route. The first time, in 2004, I went up a scree slope next to the ridge and the second time, two years ago in the rain, I went up the grassy slope beyond the ridge. I was hoping that this would be third time lucky. Moel Siabod is a lonely mountain with only one good line of approach, that from Pont Cyfyng, so once again I parked just over the bridge and set off up the steep road for Moel Siabod.

Continuing on the track towards the imposing mountain ahead I turned off towards the left flank and to a picturesque lake. The good path continued through an eerie, disused quarry, past slag heaps and a dark flooded pit, before climbing over a rise and down to Llyn y Foel. This was where my choices on my previous visits varied as the path splits before the descent to the lake. The right-hand path hugs the edge of the hillside heading towards the corner formed by the hillside and the ridge, and this was the path I took the first time I did this walk. The second time I went left around the lake, just as a group ahead of me were doing now, but this time I went straight ahead just to the right of the lake on what is potentially the wettest route.

On the other side of the lake I climbed up to the top of the ridge, which was not too difficult at this early stage, and finally I succeeded in walking along the ridge on my third attempt. Some fun scrambling was revealed that can be easily circumvented, but why would I want to do that? The climb up the ridge was easy with some fun moves possible up the rocks, which was a perfect way to end my long weekend holiday. Finally I reached the summit where I had stunning views of Snowdon, the Glyderau and the Carneddau. After having something to eat I walked down the tremendous eastern ridge over rocky terrain with bits of delicious rockwork to enjoy while traversing the top. With the fun over I descended down the hill back onto the outward track to finally return to my car. This is a truly great mountain, and even though I have now done the ridge that I had been trying to achieve for years it would be a shame not to do this walk again.

Since the walk had finished early, I took advantage of the spare time on my drive home to explore the countryside I was passing through. A signpost for the Horsehoe Pass, near Llangollen, prompted me to take the road that passes through this dramatic scenery and to stop and take in the views. Unfortunately I was unable to do a walk in the area, so I got back in my car and drove down into Llangollen, but soon after passing through I was stopped by another signpost that promised an aqueduct. I have passed these signs for the Horseshoe Pass and Pontcysyllte Aqueduct many times on my way to Snowdonia, but now I had the time to stop and explore. The aqueduct carries the Llangollen Canal across the Dee Valley and was a vertiginous experience to cross over, only to have to do so again to get back. I loved these opportunities to explore areas that I had never visited before and I hope that I will soon get a chance to spend more time in an area that previously I have ignored in my single-minded focus on mountains.

The Glyderau scrambling all the way up

Monday 27th August 2007

This was yet another day spent scrambling in Snowdonia and this time it was the turn of the Glyders and Tryfan to host my gravity defying excursions. After parking on the A5 in one of the laybys near Tryfan, a short walk along the road took me to a gate in a wall and up a path beside the wall to the foot of the Milestone Buttress and the start of the north ridge of Tryfan. The start proved to be the most difficult part as the first route I tried to climb proved unclimbable (to me), but moving further east yielded an easier route of ascent.

Once the start had been made there followed a series of scrambles with occasional easier patches that took me all the way up to the top. The strong wind during the ascent had eased once I reached the top so the jump from Adam to Eve was a triviality. The first time I was up there I couldn't stand let alone jump from one rock to another! I still managed the leap, but without standing up at any moment, and with a lot of hesitation. Once my manhood had been proven I began my second scramble of the day down the south ridge of Tryfan. Technically this is easier than the north ridge but I tried my best to take the hardest line staying at the top of the ridge all the way, but I didn't succeed all that much!

Once at Bwlch Tryfan I began the third and hardest scramble of the day: Bristly Ridge. The hardest bit was definitely at the beginning as I tried to climb a gully up to the start of the ridge. It was really tricky and nerve-wracking, but eventually I made it and continued along the whole ridge with the difficulties coming thick and fast. During the ascent I hooked up with two other guys who were doing the climb as well and by the end there were three of us doing this difficult climb, which was really quite fun. Eventually the boulder field at the top of Glyder Fach was reached and we went our three separate ways. After a look at the cantilever I went across to the summit and stopped for lunch. My scrambling was now over having taken me from the A5 all the way up to the top of Glyder Fach and it would be easier going from here on in. Feeling that one more tiny scramble would be in order I climbed up to the top of Glyder Fach's Castell y Gwynt before descending to Bwlch y Ddwy-Glyder. Bypassing the grassy top of Y Gribin I entered the desolate boulder strewn terrain of Glyder Fawr. In comparison to this, Glyder Fach has a majestic, elegant summit. The whole top of Glyder Fawr all the way down to Llyn y Cwn at the top of Devil's Kitchen is a huge slag heap that deserves no praise and no pleasure can be had from a traverse of its summit. I was relieved when I finally got down to the lake at the bottom and was off the excruciating scree that dominates the landscape.

With the weather beginning to close in and with a real reluctance to walk up to Y Garn I followed the heavily constructed staircase through the Devil's Kitchen. Despite the severity of the construction I really liked this path as it is astonishingly well engineered as it weaves around steep crags slowly descending into Cwm Idwal. This cove is an amazing place with stunning rock scenery in all directions and with great views across the lake to Pen yr Ole Wen. Coming out of the rake from Twll Du I joined the equally well-constructed path that circuits the cwm passing the Idwal Slabs all the way down to the road.

After a visit to the toilet I decided that it was too early to finish so I returned to Cwm Idwal and walked all around the cove anti-clockwise enjoying the scenery again and smiling ruefully at the clouds that had now descended over the tops. I was in the best place. Back to Idwal Cottage I walked along the road back to my car, happy that I had just enjoyed another good walk and was hopeful for one to come on this holiday.

Snowdon made difficult

Sunday 26th August 2007

An alternative title for this report could be "How to avoid the crowds on Snowdon on a Bank Holiday", but I didn't really avoid the thousands of people on Snowdon except for a couple of all too brief moments when I took unorthodox routes on and off. Snowdon is such a popular mountain that one is almost inclined to give it a wide berth at such times, but on this walk I showed that even at its busiest a great day can still be had on Snowdon. It's such a great mountain that it would be a shame to give it a miss just because thousands of other people are up there as well.

I parked in the large Nant Peris car park and caught a bus up to Pen Y Pass; even at 9am the car park at the top was already full. At the start of my walk I followed the families on the Miner's Track past Llyn Teryn and Llyn Llydaw up to Glaslyn. At the outflow I left the families behind and crossed the stream to follow a faint path to the foot of a steep rocky ridge and the start of a scramble up the ridge, called Cribau by the OS and Y Gribin by the website where I'd heard about it. This was fabulous climb and kept me well away from the crowds with the only problem being that it was far too short and soon deposited me at Bwlch y Saethau, though still some distance away from the Watkin Path.

Wandering slowly towards Snowdon I was tempted to turn around and go up Y Lliwedd, but I had no reason to and I would have had to come back down again. I would not have gone on any path that I had not done before, but I suppose I just wanted to use up some time, which I would find somewhere else later. At the foot of Clogwyn y Garnedd, ignoring the wild goats that were in the area, I took a direct ascent up the east ridge to the summit instead of going across the screes on the Watkin Path. I have always avoided this route before believing it to be too difficult but the website previously referred to said it was only a grade one scramble, so why not? It was certainly do-able though harder than the previous climb and the scope for getting oneself into higher grade territory is all too easy.

Eventually I arrived at the summit where the sheer number of people was obscene. I felt like getting away from there as quickly as possible but first I wanted to get a good look at the building work for the new café. They are still working on the roof but it will be interesting to see what it's like when complete. Hopefully it will, as advertised, be less of an eye-sore. It isn't yet. When the cloud descended again I left the summit and started listening to the Turkish Grand Prix on Radio 5 Live while wandering towards Garnedd Ugain, and before I reached the summit I stopped to have my lunch.

I had planned to finish the walk over Crib Goch but since it was still early and my attention was being distracted by the radio, I skirted around the hillside and descended the steep slope down to the promontory of Gyrn Lâs, which afforded me with tremendous views of Nant Peris, Crib Goch and the train station at Clogwyn, while the clouds thoughtfully cleared for me. I stood for a while admiring the views and listened to the rest of the Grand Prix (Massa won). Returning to Garnedd Ugain I reached the summit and began the traverse of Crib Goch undistracted and with clear views. This is the third time I've been over Crib Goch, but it was my first time in this direction and it certainly makes a difference.

The early section along Crib y Ddysgl was enjoyable and easy, so I stayed on the top of the ridge as much as possible while defying the sheer drops either side, and then after passing Bwlch Coch I began Crib Goch. While climbing around one of the pinnacles I got stuck when I lost my nerve to climb down a sheer 2 metre drop. While scrambling around to avoid it, I scraped my hand on the rock, and drew blood. Henceforth, hand plastered, I was much more cautious and hesitant, and therefore I traversed the exposed section with a great deal of trepidation. The previous year I had traversed this section while standing on the top of the edge for much of the way, but now my hands were desperately gripping the top as I edged along. I think it really is best to get the difficult section over with as soon as possible.

From the eastern end of Crib Goch I descended the quiet northern ridge and left the crowds behind and after a while any difficulties reminiscent of the main ridge receded and left me with a wide ridge that I could fearlessly stride down. At the bottom I turned left avoiding the cliffs of Dinas Mot and followed a very faint path to pick up the Afon Gennog where a clear path beside the stream took me to Blaen-y-nant at the bottom of the valley. All that remained now was for me to walk along the road back to my car. This was another good walk even if Crib Goch had once again terrified me.

The Carneddau by Crib Lem

Saturday 25th August 2007

On another holiday I was once more in Snowdonia enjoying the Welsh 3,000 foot mountains. There are only two places in Britain, outside of Scotland, where great rugged mountains can be found: the Lake District and Snowdonia. I have visited the Lake District many times so it's only fair to let Snowdonia have some of the fun. My goal on this holiday was to take in a few different routes up the familiar mountains, hopefully on routes that require a good amount of scrambling. To start, on this walk I was in the Carneddau, taking a route described as the best scrambling in the Carneddau.

After over three hours of driving in the morning I parked in Gerlan near Bethesda. The start of the walk involved going to the end of the road and then up a path beside the Afon Llafar, spurning the wide ridge of Mynnydd Du to follow the river into Cwmglas Bach. Up to this point the weather had been, if anything, a little too warm, however the tops were cloud-covered and it wasn't long before I also was lost in the clouds and no longer required my sunglasses and sun hat. After the wet summer it had been nice to enjoy a bit of sun, but unfortunately it wasn't to last.

Climbing steeply into the cwm I picked up a faint path that climbed to my left on the side of the cwm and after a while turned onto the ridge that skirts the side of the cliff. Once onto the ridge the path turned right to begin the great scramble, but in the absence of views the ridge was not as amazing as it could have been, though under foot it was really enjoyable. The gradient lessened after a while and then things got a little hairy as a number of pinnacles had to be circumvented. The scrambling here was rather tricky but a do-able route was always available to insured that the ridge stuck to a solid grade one standard.

Eventually the ridge merged onto the mountain-side and left me with a short scree climb up to the summit of Carnedd Dafydd. At the summit an amazing thing happened as the clouds thinned and cleared to reveal clear views on the other side of the mountain producing an awesome sight all around me. Sitting at the summit I reflected that I have been up many mountains, this particular one three times before, and yet I still found the rock scenery around me thrilling. A barren, boulder-strewn landscape is so special and precious to me that I am in awe of it every time I summit a true mountain. The awesome views, however, were short lived as the clouds returned to envelope me as I left the summit.

During my traverse of the ridge of Cefn Ysgolion Dion the sun and clouds alternated frequently with the overlapping times affording me with a possibility of seeing a rare Brocken Spectre. After a number of no-shows I eventually managed to make sure I was standing in the right place at the right time to witness a good example of this optical effect. I can die happy now, my life has been fulfilled because I have seen a good Brocken Spectre. Soon after that the sun failed to reappear and a strong, cold wind came out of nowhere that eventually required me to put on not just my cagoul but also my gloves. With the cold wind continuing to blow I trudged up the interminable scree to the top of Carnedd Llewelyn, the second highest mountain in Wales.

With little reason to linger I headed off towards Yr Elen, Llewelyn's partner. Checking the compass direction I crossed the mist-covered summit plateau and descended to the bridging ridge that took me across to Yr Elen, though, in the mist little enjoyment could be gained from the crossing and the summit also failed to excite me. Heading off north I descended the steep scree slope eventually emerging below the clouds as I walked along the ridge of Braich y Brysgyll gradually descending to the river. Once at river level I found the ground to be very wet under foot with no sign of a path. After a very wet crossing I reached a fence with a footpath on the other side, but no way over the barbed-wire. With great risk to the seat of my trousers I crossed the fence and followed the right-of-way, but no actual path on the ground, to the road and thence back to the car.

This was a good walk but marred by poor weather and wet, boggy ground at the end, but that takes nothing away from the fabulous ridge ascent and that Brocken Spectre.

Glenbrittle to Sligachan

Friday 6th July 2007

One of the problems with walking in the Cuillin hills has been how long it took me to get there. At the start of my holiday I left South Wigston station at 5-45 am (well actually 5-55, the train was late) and got to Armadale (the ferry port on Skye) at 6-30 pm. If you add the hour on a bus to get to Sligachan and then the three hour walk into Glenbrittle then you have a very long day. I could have arrived at the Glenbrittle Youth Hostel at 10-30 pm (though probably much later), but obviously the best option is to take two days, even though the above option has a curious attraction (!).

Despite it being only Friday I had to leave Glenbrittle and begin my journey home, however, the walk to Sligachan was really quite fun and brought to mind long-distance walks such as the West Highland Way. I was following my route of  the previous Tuesday up the road and along the footpath over Bealach a' Mhaim. The weather for this walk was worse than on Tuesday, although it appeared to be better than I'd had during my previous two days with the clouds over the hills very low and barely higher than the bealach, but with glimpses of blue sky away from the hills. Beyond the bealach I had an enjoyable walk across the moors following the Allt Dearg Mor (I guess that translates as the Great Red Burn). As I approached Sligachan it started raining and any thought of going up the Red Cuillin (e.g. Glamaig) was dismissed. (To be honest I didn't really want to; I had been hoping for bad weather!)

Instead I caught a bus to Portree and had a look around the capital since although I had been there twice during the week I hadn't stayed long enough either time to have a look around. It was nice to be able to spend some time there now and be a bit of a tourist, but it wasn't long before I caught another bus back to the Armadale Youth Hostel where I was in a prime position to catch the ferry first thing in the morning. I felt like I'd not been on Skye long enough, but I suppose I had only been on the island for a week and I admit that the Trotternish excursion on Sunday was a bit of a waste of effort. There are still plenty more Munros on Skye so I'm sure I will be back.

Coir' a' Ghrunnda & Sgurr Sgumain

Thursday 5th July 2007

The weather for this walk turned out to be worse than forecast with the clouds failing to rise, which resulted in a dull, damp, cloudy day. The walk that I had planned around Coir' a' Ghrunnda would necessitate me correctly following the path into the corrie and up to Bealach a' Garbh-choire and this I failed to do. There were no problems at first as I walked past the campsite and up the path towards Coir' a' Ghrunnda, but I soon made my first mistake. On reaching the Allt Coire Lagan I panicked thinking that this was the Allt Coir' a' Ghrunnda and immediately started traipsing up the hillside through the long wet grass and only realised my mistake when I turned my GPS on. By then the damage had been done: I had two wet feet. The journey back down to the path finished off the job and my feet stayed wet for the rest of the day.

Back on course I now climbed high above the Allt Coir' a' Ghrunnda on what was turning out to be a brilliantly engineered path that used the natural rock to good effect climbing steeply up into the corrie and weaving an ingenious course up scree and over rocks. I'm disappointed that I lost it (!). The path disappeared into a boulder field and I never found it again, but I did find a path that involved an exciting scramble up the western slopes of the corrie following what I thought was a path or at least a do-able route into the corrie, but the mist made route-finding very difficult so I didn't really know where I was, and effectively I suppose I was lost. However, all was not lost as a GPS comes in very handy in these sort of situations and told me where I was and where I was heading. When I stopped somewhere for lunch I put the coordinates of Bealach Coir' a' Ghrunnda into my GPS and was astonished when it told me I was only 200m away from it. So I maybe that was where the path I had been following was heading.

Since it was now gone two in the afternoon I decided to abandon my plans for the day and head for Sgurr Sgumain instead, though as I continued along the path I was surprised to discover I had actually been heading for the summit of Sron na Ciche. Leaving the summit I descended to the bealach, noting the top of the Sgumain Stone Chute, and tried to get up to the top of Sgurr Sgumain. This proved to be very difficult as I didn't have any idea of the correct route. On ascent I took a difficult route scrambling up the western side, while on descent, determined to find a better route, I scrambled down the eastern side. I don't think I found the best route either way, but it is interesting to note that I never thought I wouldn't find a safe route down and get stuck up there or worse.

The GPS was invaluable during all this and I wouldn't have managed without it. (Maybe I wouldn't have been so daring without it. I wasn't worried while up there because I was putting my trust in the GPS.) After visiting the bleak wind swept summit I safely returned to the bealach and began the interminable descent of the Sgumain Stone Chute. I am glad I wasn't going up this as that would have been really frustrating, but many people do go up the nearby Great Stone Chute and that must be even bigger. How can they? Finally at the bottom I joined the path that took me past Loch an Fhir-bhallaich to Eas Mor.

I must say I was really relieved when I finally got down okay at the end of this walk. It was quite nerve-racking up there because I didn't really know where I was or whether I was going the right way. I was putting my trust completely in my map and the GPS because I couldn't see any indication of where I was. The Cuillin Hills are really difficult to walk on especially in misty conditions. There are a lot of routes that just cannot be done by a lowly hill-walker. I think I was relieved when I started to descend the Sgumain Stone Chute (and was sure it was the chute!) because only then could I finally relax as the pressure to constantly concentrate on route-finding was gone. These are great hills, but they require a lot of thought and care. I left the Cuillin the following morning, but I am sure I will be back and hopefully in better weather conditions.

Sgurr na Banachdich & Sgurr Dearg

Wednesday 4th July 2007

The weather was not so nice for this walk with bands of rain that kept passing over throughout the day, however they failed to spoil what was a truly memorable day. There was some rather terrifying ridge walking but my only injury was a scuffed knuckle (!), while my leg injury from the previous day gave me no problems. Starting from the hostel I walked straight onto the hillside up a path beside the Allt a'Choire Ghreadaidh. I love it when I can go straight from the hostel onto the hills so it is a pity that this is so rare in Scotland. Normally one has to walk some distance (or catch a bus) to get to the start, but not on this walk as I was climbing beside pretty waterfalls just a minute after leaving the hostel.

At the junction with the Allt Coir'an Eich I took a faint path that climbs steeply up the hillside into the small corrie. Looking back later I realised that I should have stayed in the corrie, but instead I branched left up the steep ridge that leads up to An Diallaid, but I don't suppose the screes in the corrie would have been any easier than the steep ascent on the ridge. From An Diallaid I had rock under foot all the way as I climbed up the steep slope to the cliff-edged summit of Sgurr na Banachdich. There, well away from the cliff-edge, I had my lunch and I had to make a decision. Do I proceed along the main Cuillin ridge with all the inherent dangers involved or do I return the way I had come? I did seriously consider abandoning the ridge and I sat there for a long time gazing down the steep slope off the summit onto the ridge that I would have to climb down through the dense mist that was making the ridge a lot more terrifying than it probably was. Eventually I went onto my backside and slithered down. I was doing the Cuillin ridge.

That initial descent proved to be the worst and things got easier once I had bypassed Sgurr na Banachdich's centre top. I like to know that if I do slip I won't go far before I stop, so the mist was terrified because I couldn't see the bottom. I had quite a few moments like that early on when I was literally clinging to the rock for dear life or sliding down on my bum while keeping my centre of balance as low as I possibly could. As I progressed things did get easier mainly due to the widening of the ridge. Beyond Bealach Coire na Banachdich there was a short easy scramble up a rock face (rather tricky in the wet) followed by a steep climb up to the summit of Sgurr Dearg. On passing through a gap in the summit ridge a terrifying apparition appeared out of the mist: an enormous column of rock, the Inaccessible Pinnacle. In these weather conditions the very sight of it was terrifying and completely unnerved me. I couldn't even get to the foot of the In Pinn let alone climb it. Technically the top of the In Pinn is the Munro, while Sgurr Dearg isn't even a Munro Top, but I was as high as I dared go. Practically, even in the best of conditions, on my own I would never have been able to get any further, and to have got where I did in these conditions on my first trip into the Cuillin was amazing.

All that remained was to descend the western ridge of Sgurr Dearg, and that was not an easy thing to do especially as the early stages involved paths that were just as difficult and terrifying as the main ridge. After passing over the western top (barely a 15 metre drop) the difficulty eased and the views out to the sea opened up as a reward for my accomplishments. An enjoyable rocky descent followed that was tricky but nowhere difficult. I had done the Coire an Banachdich round and it had terrified me, but I had survived to tell the story. During the descent the sun came out which enhanced the views of the spectacular Eas Mor waterfall that I had at the end of the walk. I found out on this walk just how difficult the Cuillin can be; they are in a completely different league to the rest of the country, a class of their own.

Bruach Na Frithe

Monday 2nd July 2007

After my over-exertions of the day before I was almost relieved to see heavy mist and rain when I got up in the morning so when I caught the bus I only went as far as Portree. My good weather plan had been to go as far as Sligachan and walk up either the Red Cuillin or the northern end of the Black Cuillin. On second thoughts it was a good thing that the weather was bad since a late start to the walk and a requirement to walk into Glenbrittle after the walk would have resulted in another very long day. Under the circumstances a walk was never a possibility so with no reason for me to linger in Portree I caught a bus to Carbost and the Talisker Distillery.

I have gotten into the habit of visiting distilleries when it's raining (they are a handy wet weather option and not just for me as the place was busy); I took the tour and after much debate with myself I bought a small bottle of Talisker. With not much else to do in the area, after lunch I began the seven mile hike in the rain along the road to Glen Brittle, which could have been a horrible experience had I not received a lift from a foreign couple to the youth hostel while I was half way along the road. After dropping off my bag I walked down the valley to the shore of Loch Brittle where I stocked up on food for the week in the campsite shop. Returning to the hostel I gazed at the scenery around about and looked forward to my next three days in the area. Showers were forecast for the next couple of days so my walking was going to be as adventurous as I would have liked.

Tuesday 3rd July 2007

The weather forecast for this walk was bad with scattered showers and even isolated lightening, but instead I had clear blue skies and a gorgeous day for walking; if only I had been able to enjoy more of it. With blue skies to the north but the Cuillin sulking under low dark clouds I started walking along the road until the point where the road begins to climb out of the valley. At this point I took the good clear path that is signposted to Sligachan and climbs over Bealach a'Mhaim where I left the path and headed up into Fionn Choire. My original plan had been to go straight through the middle of the corrie up to Bealach nan Lice, but with good weather around the ridge over Sgurr a'Bhasteir looked too inviting, so I crossed the corrie and climbed up to the col with Meall Ohar.

Now began my first serious climb in the Cuillin as I followed a path on the left side of the ridge before reaching the crest half way up. With an exhilarating look around me at the views I plunged ahead up the ridge into the clouds leaving the north ridge near the top to take easier routes via the north-western ridge. Once at the top I walked along the summit ridge while enjoying the exposure as I went. When I reached the main Cuillin ridge I was struck with awe, for appearing out of the mist was a huge tooth-shaped pinnacle of rock, the Bhasteir Tooth. While getting a closer look at the small top at the junction, I could see that there was an even bigger rock behind, An Basteir, a Munro, but any thought of going that way filled me with fear. Even in clearer weather this might not have been easy to negotiate but in the low cloud the way was totally impassable. I was truly in the Cuillin!

Turning the other way I saw another large peak of rock rising out of the mist, and this one seemed passable for a path could be seen skirting it's northern foot, and I had reason to believe that this top, Sgurr a' Fionn Choire, was scalable by mere mortals such as myself. Crossing to it's foot I scrambled up it's northern face to it's summit cairn. It was a pity there was no view to be had, but the feeling of exposure was enormous. Climbing back down to the foot of the peak I followed the easy path along the ridge to Bruach na Frithe and the trig point, the only one in the Cuillin. During lunch I was rewarded with a clearing of the clouds to the north that revealed stunning views down the north ridge and across the Isle of Skye.

With the improved visibility, after lunch, I started my descent down the north ridge staying on the very top of the ridge as much as possible. And that was when the accident happened. Fortunately the accident wasn't that serious; I was climbing down some rocks when the rock I was holding came away and I swung down into the rock face bashing my right shin into a sharp bit of rock. Upon rubbing my sore leg I noticed that my trousers were getting wet! Pulling my trouser leg up revealed that I had cut my leg open and I was bleeding profusely. Oh, well. Getting my first aid kit out I cleaned, plastered and bandaged my leg. As I said I wasn't seriously injured and I was able to walk down the mountain (albeit by much safer paths) back to Bealach a'Mhaim. These things happen and I was prepared with a first aid kit to treat it, but it could have been a lot worse.

Meanwhile the weather continued to improve and provided me with a warm, sunny walk back down the path to the road and thence along Glenbrittle to the youth hostel.

The Trotternish Ridge

Sunday 1st July 2007

This was one of those days when a little more thought would have left me doing something completely different. I arrived at the youth hostel in the evening completely worn out and exhausted. I could hardly stand, and I have no idea how I managed to get up the steep road to the hostel. The next day started very differently; after early rain the skies had cleared and the sun was shining warmly. It was a glorious day and I was on the Isle of Skye, home to some of the most challenging mountains in Britain, but first I wanted to walk along the Trotternish Ridge. I had spent the night at the Armadale Youth Hostel, near the ferry terminal and caught the first bus of the day (at 9.40) all the way to Portree, the capital of Skye, and after stocking up on groceries I headed north out of the town on the Staffin road, but after a while I left the road to head up the hillside, and that was where my problems started.

With hindsight I should have stayed on the road for six miles until I was directly below the spectacular Storr, which would have saved myself a bundle of time. However, it would have been even better to have not done the walk at all, or at the least to have done the walk on a day when the buses were running on the Staffin Road so I wouldn't have had to walk all that way. As it was I trudged through boggy ground all the way up the southern slopes of the Trotternish ridge up (and down) Ben Dearg until finally I reached the top of the Storr. It had taken me almost five hours to get up there and as soon as I got there the clouds enveloped it and I was unable to see anything. Having taken me so long to get to the Storr I didn't want to prolong the walk by continuing along the ridge, but I had no choice. There were no many buses running in this part of Skye because it was a Sunday, so I was stuck in the middle of Skye with no way of getting to Uig except by walking.

So that is what I did; I dropped down to the bealach and up Hartaval, the second Graham on the ridge, and proceeded down to the next bealach. That was when it started raining and since by now I was really tired I decided to walk around Sgurr a' Mhalaidh, which was a big mistake because it is very wide and it took me a long time to get to the next bealach over terrain that was very difficult to walk over. I looked at my map many times to see if there was an easier way to the road, but the planned route always seemed best so I dragged myself over Creag a'Lain and Flasvein until finally I reached Bealach Chaiplin, which is where I had been aiming for. Skirting below Groba nan Each I crossed over its western ridge and dropped down into the valley looking for a farmer's track to take me back to civilization. After acquiring two wet feet from the boggy valley floor I finally reached a farmer's track which left me with many more miles of walking along the track and later on a road out of the valley and to the youth hostel. After this I just wished the rest of the week was going to be easier.