Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe

Wednesday 4th June 2014

The day before this walk I had headed up Glen Affric from the village of Cannich until near Affric Lodge I took a track that climbs up the side of the valley and once over the ridge led me down broad, boggy slopes to the bottom of Gleann nam Fiadh where I camped beside the river in a lovely spot. The weather that evening was fabulous and as I went to bed I was hopeful that the weather would be just as good the following day for a walk up the two big mountains at the top of the valley: Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe. These are not just the highest mountains in the Glen Affric area, they are the highest mountains in Britain north of the Great Glen. After the many disappointments and setbacks that I suffered on this holiday I really needed to wake up to good weather, and that is what I got although the weather did deteriorate during the course of the day, but while it lasted I was able to enjoy a fabulous high level traverse on the ridge around Gleann nam Fiadh with these two mountains at the head.

When I got out of my tent in the morning there was hardly a cloud in the sky with just a little hill fog at the top of Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe. I felt astonishingly lucky so after a quick breakfast I set off back up the broad slopes on the track that I had climbed the evening before until I reached the highest point at the top of the ridge where I came off the track and headed across the swampy ground towards the foot of Sgùrr na Lapaich. A slender path took me through the bogs with cairns helpfully marking my route and providing me with a satisfactory passage to the foot of the mountain. Unfortunately when the terrain began to steepen the cairns disappeared, which made things rather more difficult. In the end I followed a small stream, the southern branch of the Allt na Faing, onto a ramp that led me onto the southern slopes just as the clouds that I had hoped would lift from the highest tops actually descended onto Sgùrr na Lapaich.

Annoyingly, instead of the good weather that I had woken to, the cloud gradually built up around the top of the mountains during the morning. Behind me Glen Affric and all things eastward was bathed in sunshine, but the mountains westward were enveloped in cloud. As I reached the top of Sgùrr na Lapaich the clouds lifted slightly to afford me with a view along the ridge towards the still covered mountaintops of Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe. Across Glen Affric there was a stunning view of the snow-speckled mountains of Kintyre dominated by the radiating ridges of Mullach Fraoch-choire and A ‘Chràlaig. Given its grand crags and isolated location, a good distance from Màm Sodhail, I felt that Sgùrr na Lapaich deserves to be a Munro and in fact Sir Hugh Munro himself added it to his tables, but its status was subsequently revised to that of merely a top and has tragically never been restored to the honour it so rightly deserves.

An intermittent path follows the top of the ridge over Mullach Cadha Rainich as I made my way up to the huge cairn at the top of Màm Sodhail and I was rewarded with a gradual lifting of the clouds so that by the time I reached the top of the Munro I had clear views to all the nearby mountains. It was great to be at the top of such a high mountain despite a low cloud level barely higher than the mountain itself. My eye was constantly being drawn south-west to the snow-speckled northern slopes of the mountains of Kintyre and beyond. This was such a stunning sight that the sunnier views eastwards couldn’t compete due to their lack of high mountains and I felt great to be at the top of a Scottish Mountain surrounded by mountains as far as I could see.

There is an enormous cairn at the top of Màm Sodhail, which Ralph Storer says in the definitive guide to the “100 Best Routes on Scottish Mountains” testifies to its former importance as a survey point during the OS mapping of the Highlands in the 19th Century. A steep descent on an excellent footpath took me down to the col where a less steep ascent brought me up to the top of Carn Eighe. When I reached the top of the Munro I couldn’t help noticing that the mountains to the west and to the north, particularly over Loch Mullardoch, had very dark clouds over them, while the sun shone on the hills to the south and to the east. While having my lunch beside the trig point at the summit I was astonished to see how strong the east-west difference can be, it almost felt like night and day. Rain was falling to the west while the sun was out to the east. The spot where I had camped a couple of days previously near the Mullardoch mountains seemed to be drawing all the rain and keeping it away from me at the top of one of the highest mountains in Britain.

From the top I made my way across easy, grassy slopes to the steep, craggy cliff edge at the top of Stob a’Choire Dhomhain where laid out before me was the excitingly narrow ridge of Stob Coire Dhomhnuill. The ridge, complete with rock towers, provided me with as much scrambling opportunities as I wanted, but I usually took the paths that bypass all the difficulties, which may sound cowardly, but I actually enjoy these high terrace paths, more than I enjoy terrifying myself on rock towers. At the end of the ridge I sat at the top and gazed around in awe of my surroundings. Dark clouds may have been lying to the north but to the south it was sunny and the views were stunning. It is always fabulous being at the top of a mountain when the weather is good and at that moment I didn’t want to leave; this is what I come to Scotland for. Reluctantly I passed over the top of Sron Garbh and climbed very steeply down to the col of Garbh Bhealach.

Ralph Storer here recommends following him, and most walkers, into the corrie and down to the valley. However, it was still quite early so I decided to carry on along the ridge though soon after that the weather started to close in and before I reached the top of the Munro, Tom a’Choinich, it started to rain. With hindsight Ralph Storer was probably right that the onward course would be an anti-climax, but there were some good points including a narrowing of the ridge after Tom a’Choinich Beag and a good footpath after the Munro down the steep ridge to the col. There I finally left the ridge and followed an excellent footpath that I frustratingly kept losing as I followed the Allt Toll Easa back down into the valley where my tent awaited me. Despite the rain that ended the day this was a fabulous walk over some great mountains with stunning views of the mountains of Kintail on excellent footpaths.

Dog Falls

Tuesday 3rd June 2014

After my disappointments with the day before this walk, when it had rained off and on all day as I made my way through the rough countryside beside Loch Mullardoch, I needed a better day, and surprisingly that was what I got. When I got up it was raining again and I was already starting to make alternative plans for the rest of my holiday as with seemingly no change in the bad weather again I felt very despondent, wondering what I could do with this day and I wasn’t in a hurry to make a decision. Slowly I packed up my tent and when it stopped raining I left the Cannich Campsite and made my way through the village, stopping off at the store for some supplies, before heading off along the road towards Glen Affric. Since I’d been slow to leave the campsite I had missed the bus out of Cannich and as there wasn’t another for more than two hours I aimlessly wandered down the road while trying to come up with a better option for the day. Ultimately I couldn’t think of a better plan than the one that I’d originally had for this week so I continued into Glen Affric.

Glen Affric is one of the better known glens and is often claimed to be the most beautiful of all the Scottish glens. The valley is now a National Nature Reserve and is home to extensive pinewoods, a remnant of the Caledonian Forest that once covered all of Scotland. I entered the reserve along the road with the River Affric to my left down the steep hillside where the sound of Badger Fall through the trees enticed me, but with no access into the steep ravine I had to stay on the road. Eventually I reached a footpath sign, and assuming that this was part of the network of paths around Dog Falls, which is marked on maps, I headed down to the river where a good bridge crossed the water a distance downstream from a rock-sided ravine with a waterfall just out of sight.

Assuming, rightly, that I had reached Dog Falls I continued along the excellent trail away from the river and at a junction I decided to follow red topped posts to climb steeply up the hillside. To my surprise I started to get hot from the climb and from the sun that was beginning to break through the clouds so I took off my waterproofs and soon felt much better as I climbed up to the forest road at the top of the path. Continuing to follow the red markers I turned right along the forest track until I eventually descended back down to the river at the car park for Dog Falls where I had my lunch before continuing along the Dog Falls Trail following the red posts beside a spectacular rock-filled river that finally brought me to Dog Falls. Waterfalls are often in deep ravines that make it very difficult to get a good view of them, and Dog Falls is just such a waterfall, so just as with the Falls of Glomach that I had visited two days previously I couldn’t get a good view.

As I stood at the poor viewpoint for Dog Falls I glanced at the sky and realised that it was almost clear of clouds and revealing gorgeous sunny weather on a lovely day. This was an utter shock for me as just a couple of hours before it had looked as if I’d never see the sun again all week. The fickleness of the weather in Britain is really annoying at times. I was glad I’d decided to keep to my original plan as I returned along the path to the car park where I started to follow white topped posts along forest roads that led me heading further into Glen Affric. The Viewpoint Trail ends at a point where a spectacular view can be seen across Loch Beinn a’ Mheadhoin towards the awesome mountains north of the valley that have their peak in the twin mountains of Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe.

The sight of these mountains spurred me on when earlier in the day I had thought I’d never even get a glimpse, but now I was planning an ascent of these Munros. First I needed to get to them and that meant carrying on along the track all the way to the end of Loch Beinn a’ Mheadhoin over many, long weary miles. Forest roads are not very interesting to walk along as they are too wide and flat, being little better than walking along a public road, and there were so many trees either side I had poor views across the loch. Eventually I reached the River Affric car park where a small woodland trail explores the land at the western end of Loch Beinn a’ Mheadhoin and affords good views of the small rapids on the raging River Affric.

After all my indecision at the start of this walk I was now settled on my course of action and that was to do what I had originally planned. I walked along the private road from the car park to Affric Lodge where I turned right onto a landrover track that zigzags up the hillside north of the valley. To my right were the snow-speckled mountains of Màm Sodhail and Carn Eighe which were looking spectacular in the bright evening sunshine, and it was very tempting to immediately start an ascent in such brilliant weather. Instead I climbed up the steep landrover track to the col between Sgùrr na Lapaich and Am Meallan and down the boggy ground to the valley of Gleann nam Fiadh, which runs from the foot of Carn Eighe. There, beside the river, I camped at a delightful spot with the two mountains beaming down on me. At the start of this day I would never have imagined that I would end the day in such an amazing place and in such sensational weather. After all the disappointments that I had suffered the day before I was relieved that the weather had unexpectantly turned out so well and I was hopeful for a good day after.

Loch Mullardoch

Monday 2nd June 2014

My holiday in Scotland had a lot of ups and downs. There were some great moments at the top of fabulous mountains or beside tranquil rivers, but there were also moments when nothing seemed to go right and nothing was going the way I’d planned. This day was another that didn’t go as planned and as a result it was very disappointing. I had camped at an isolated spot at the top of the pass between Glen Elchaig and Loch Mullardoch, which was an idyllic place when I went to bed but when I got up in the morning the clouds had descended and it was raining. This rain carried on for most of the morning and it didn’t really get much better during the rest of the day with more rain falling even as I approached the campsite at the end of the day. I was not hopeful for a good walk as I broke camp and slowly set off along a landrover track towards Loch Mullardoch. My plan for this day had been to walk up the Mullardoch group of mountains that lie in the remote area north of Loch Mullardoch.

The usual route of access to these mountains is from the east, in Glen Cannich, where a long five mile walk is required beside the loch before you start to climb up to the top of An Socach, the westernmost mountain in the group, before returning along the tops of the mountains back to the start. My plan was to prevent the lochside walk by approaching from the west, but the weather forced me to change my plans. As much as I love going up mountains it is not much fun going to the top of a mountain in bad weather. I’ve done that too many times to really think it’s worth the effort. The top of a mountain in good weather is the best place anyone can possibly be, but in bad weather it can be the worst place you could possibly be.

At the start of this walk I had a clear landrover track to follow as it passed over the top of the pass and down into Gleann Sithidh. After crossing the Allt na Criche the track splits with a clearer track heading up into the corrie while a fainter track disappears into a morass slowly heading towards Loch Mullardoch. If I was climbing the Mullardoch mountains then a possible route of ascent would be to climb into the corrie up to the top of Meall Shuas and then after rounding Coire Lungard to climb the long grassy western slopes of An Socach. I’m glad I didn’t attempt this as even in good weather this would have been a long, frustrating, annoying and featureless climb. I think that this part of my holiday was badly planned as with hindsight I think the best route of ascent of the Mullardoch group really is to first walk beside the loch for five miles as the western slopes are just too long and tedious.

Since it was raining with low cloud at this point I fortunately did not climb into the corrie but instead I headed towards Loch Mullardoch for a long walk out beside the loch. However, it wasn’t long before I wished I had taken the hill route as the valley route was a nightmare. The track that I had been following soon faded away into nothing and was replaced by wet marshy ground that sapped all my energy as I struggled through the grass. There was hardly any wind so the midges were taking advantage of their perfect weather to feast on me as I dejectedly made my way east. The only compensation I had with being in this wild and isolated location was that the ground was overflowing with wild flowers, most noticeably spotted-orchids, which are normally not very common, but on this walk I saw lots throughout the day.

After passing the poignant remains of an ancient dwelling I had to climb the hillside over a ridge that thrusts out into the loch and at that point, just as I was getting hot from the exertion, the sun briefly came out and small flies, bigger than midges, took this moment to land on me, all over from head to toe. This seemed like torture as I felt like I was being attacked by the flies just as I was getting hotter and hotter and more and more exasperated. For some reason, I felt like I wouldn’t be in this situation if I’d had any midge-repellent, which I’d forgotten to bring, so I was loudly moaning my lack of repellent, even though I doubt it would have made much difference. I was cooking in my waterproofs and the flies were swarming all over me. Eventually I reached the top of the ridge where a breath of wind cooled me down and blew the flies away. As I got my composure back I sat down on the side of the hill and looked out across Loch Mullardoch.

During that brief moment of mild weather, while sitting on the hillside, I had a good reflection on hill walking and what I get out of it. I may love being at the top of a mountain, but there are two things I really need in order to enjoy it: good weather and a good footpath to take me up there, and on this walk I didn’t even have the second of these requirements as the area is too remote. Eventually I made my way down to a stalker's bothy and at the mouth of the Allt Socach I had my lunch. This is the point where Munro baggers would have left the lochside and climbed into Coire Mhàim on their way up to An Socach, but I was too tired and frustrated to contemplate an ascent despite a slight improvement in the weather. My onward route, thanks to those Munro baggers, was mostly on a good path which was lined with bracken and bluebells, as well as more spotted-orchids. In places however the path deteriorated with boggy ground once again making the going tough while several showers passed along the valley during the course of the afternoon.

This was a long and tiring day so I was tremendously relieved when I finally reached the large dam that converted the small lochs of Mullardoch and Lungard into the now much large loch of Mullardoch. This walk taught me that tough, off-path routes don’t appeal to me whereas I do enjoy good long-distance trails on clear paths. Another thing I’d realised was that since one of the best things about being at the top of a mountain is the view, so when that is lacking they are less appealing. Ultimately this was a day to forget except for the lessons that I learnt from it. My prospect for the rest of the day was a dull trudge along the road in Glen Cannich until I could find a quiet spot to make camp, but before then a passing car (and there weren’t many of those in such a remote area) stopped and offered me a lift into Cannich so instead of wild camping in the valley I stayed in the Cannich Campsite, which was a welcome relief after such a difficult day.

The Falls of Glomach

Sunday 1st June 2014

After fantastic weather the day before this walk, which I squandered on a small coastal stroll, I had muggy, overcast weather when I returned to the mountains as I headed back over the Skye Bridge onto the mainland. However, it wasn’t a mountain that was the main goal of this walk, but a waterfall, the spectacular falls of Glomach. This waterfall deserves to be really popular with droves of people queuing up to see this marvel of the natural world, and if it lay near a road I’m sure it would as it is often described as one of the most magnificent falls in Britain. It is one of the highest waterfalls in Britain with a single drop of 370 feet, but lies near a remote valley that has no public vehicle access. The only way to get to the waterfall is by walking either all the way along the valley or by a shorter route, and the more popular option, to climb over a pass from Loch Duich to the top of the waterfall, and that was the route I took at the start of my second week in Scotland.

After spending two nights on the wonderful Isle of Skye I caught a bus to Allt a’ Chruinn, just before Glen Shiel, on the banks of Loch Duich from where I walked along the road to the Kintail Outdoor Centre while marvelling at the weather that had thrown down rain while I was on the bus  and was now warm and sunny. I had been expecting poor weather on this walk, but most of the time it was warm, overcast and muggy (perfect midge weather). Ahead of me was Beinn Fhada, a mountain that I climbed in 2008, when I used the same approach as now, past the Kintail Outdoor Centre and into Strath Croe. On reaching the end of the road I passed into a stunning area filled with young trees and an abundant display of plants that just shows what happens when you fence off deer and other animals from an area. I would love it if more of our upland country was as overflowing with such an abundant variety of plants.

Rather than continue along the path through Gleann Chòinneachan towards Bealach an Sgàirne, I crossed the lovely shallow gorge of the Abhainn Chonaig into Dorusduain Wood. Rather dull forestry tracks took me through this wood until I finally crossed the bridge where the Allt an Leòid Ghaineamhaich and the Allt Màm an Tuire meet and there I left the confines of the valley as I climbed steeply up the sides of the valley above the Allt an Leòid Ghaineamhaich. My bones creaked and my muscles ached as I slowly struggled up the path with the sun shining down on me and with my new rucksack feeling just as heavy as my old one. Before I got to the top of the pass I had to stop and have my lunch so I could regain my strength for the final pull to the top of Bealach na Sròine.

My immense effort seemed to be paid off when I reached the broad top of the pass where the views towards the northern hills were fantastic, even though it was rather dull and overcast, and the hills were a bit grassy. Eventually I descended to the meadow at the top of the Falls of Glomach where the roar of water could be clearly heard, but it was not the falls themselves that first attracted my notice. The meadow was covered with wildflowers and most particularly spotted-orchids spread over the entire meadow. Soon I started taking the steep path that descends into the fabulous wooded ravine of the Allt a’ Ghlomaich, but I was frustrated at being unable to get a really good view of the waterfall. The gorge is so deep and precipitous that it is either impossible or extremely dangerous to get a good view of the falls. Only a bird can get the perfect view of this most elusive waterfall.

The path very steeply descends the ravine for a short distance providing me with a surprisingly close-up view of the waterfall, but a longer range shot was not possible. I was on an ingeniously designed path that thrillingly weaved a course part way down into the precipitous gorge, but ultimately it had to be climbed steeply back up to the top of the waterfall as no further descent on that path was possible. Tiringly I climbed back up to the top and after a moment of confusion I found the path that traverses high above the ravine before dropping all the way down to the bottom well away from the waterfall which was hidden by the twists and turns of the ravine. I really enjoyed this traversing path as it clings to the side of the ravine, but with steep drops down to the bottom, and was absolute fun as I love such narrow terrace paths that are still a little scary in their almost vertical drops.

At the bottom of the ravine it started to rain heavily so I donned all my waterproofs, and then almost immediately it stopped raining. Obstinately I kept my waterproofs on until I had come all the way down to the end of the valley and into the parent valley of Glen Elchaig where the sun was shining once again. The Glomach ravine is spectacular and what I saw of the waterfall was stunning, but it is a pity that I couldn’t get a really good look at it. The gorgeous paths more than made up for my disappointment with the waterfall as they were exciting and thrilling in the steepness of the terrain they crossed. Glen Elchaig is a wide, deserted valley with little sign of civilisation except for a landrover track and this is what I walked along, up the valley, past Loch na Leitreach and past a small house identified as Carnach on maps, until I reached another small house called Iron Lodge.

I had thought about turning left at Iron Lodge to climb over Rèidh Leum na Fèithe to the bothy Maol-bhuidhe, but this is a long distance from Iron Lodge so instead I turned right climbing steeply on the badly constructed zigzags of the landrover track to the top of the pass near Loch an Droma where I pitched my tent in an idyllic spot where the only sign of civilisation was the bulldozed landrover track. This day had really just been the start of a small long-distance walk of my own devising across Scotland from Loch Duich to Cannich on the other side of the mountains before walking all the way back again. I was now sitting on the Highland divide, the watershed that determines whether rainwater heads west into the Atlantic or east into the North Sea. To visit the falls of Glomach was a bonus to a walk that now ended in a wild camp in a stunning location miles from the nearest road with settled weather providing me with a lovely, tranquil end to the surprisingly good day.