Hills from hell

From a wee niche under the summit tor of Coileachan I could look down the long miles to the road tucked under the bulk of Beinn Dearg.  It looked awful. A short steep slope to a small kettle lochan in the corrie of Meall Gorm, followed by a rough step down into the glen and then a few miles of rough path and muddy slop down by the river.  It did not appeal and I looked around with the abstract thought of finding a better route.  But the shadows had lengthened, it was growing colder and short of growing wings my only feasible route was down in the general direction of the slop. 

At least for the first half hour I had gravity on my side but once I reached the loch at the bottom of the corrie it was all hard. Something of an animal track ran along the steep shore of the loch but it regularly blinded out or stopped short above a steep sided peat hag.  Up and down a dozen times but no easier route appeared for the duration of the lochan.  Once the outflow was reached it only got worse as the route descended into a battleground of monstrous hags rising unseen like brown  waves across the down slope.  Adding to the battle was the sodden underfoot conditions meaning every foot fall  pushed a thick mousse of mud up to my ankles.  Eventually I reached the river and after a further half hour of heather bashing and clambering over the top of eroded banks I reached a vestige of a path. Nearly there.

I sat by a plank bridge and ate the remaining food trying to persuade myself that I was still having fun.  This was supposed to be a fast afternoon raid round 4 Munros with a minimum of kit and in trainers but it had turned into a real fight.  I trogged on in growing darkness and eventually reached the car by headtorch after 7 long hours.

The mugging of the Monadhliath

I had an interesting wee opportunity ride into a wild estate somewhere south of Inverness on Sunday that gave pause for thought. .

I followed a circular track over a fairly high hill.  It was obvious that the track was new, built for comfort and was also being rapidly expanded deeper into the Mondaliath.   

Hmm.. the Monadhliath – a difficult child.  If you look at a large scale map of Scotland it appears that this  area is one of the biggest remaining areas of wilderness left. You could form the impression that it had some protected status or designation. However, the truth on the ground is ugly. Roads are being driven in from all directions with no apparent control over the quality or impact and the whole area has actually been designated as a favoured area for wind factory development. The rate of degradation is frightening – it so fast that many of these roads are not visible on Google Earth or on online OS maps.  You would be entitled to ask why this is happening.  

Well, the locked gate at the road end of the track I followed gives a hint as does the stripy heather and the myriad of very visible traps at the side of the path. It is an aggressively managed shooting estate. A quick search on the internet will leave you none the wiser as to who the responsible  owner is but it does tell you about prosecutions for raptor persecution, illegal traps and a small matter of a £ 2.5 million wind industry subsidy that you and I are generously bestowing on the estate incuding - incredibly - payments for turning the things off when demand drops.

It could be different.  High on the hill a couple of misplaced dotterel were doing their best with chicks and there were a few mountain hares. These are indicator species which show that the Monadlaith is a wee cousin of  the Scottish Arctic across StrathSpey and could be a fine wilderness if we just loved it more.

The evidence strongly suggests that these estates are not fit custodians of our country – they are ruthless business people with no respect for the mountain environment unless it produces a profit. We cannot trust these faceless exploiters with the future of our wildernesses and our wildlife.

Highland Cross 2012

The Highland Cross is a charity duathlon across Scotland starting from Morvich in Kintail to Beauly near Inverness. You can either walk or run the first 19 miles through Glen Lichd and Glen Affric and then pick up the bike at the start of the road in Affric and cycle the next 27 miles to the finish in the Square at Beauly. It is a tough way to spend your Saturday. For the athletes, the current record is a scarely believable 3 hours 15 minutes. It was not in any danger from me.

The run started badly with some real heat and humidity in sheltered Glen Lichd. Given the crappy spring with around 3 months of frigid easterly winds I do not think anybody was prepared for it and there were a few faces like well skelped arses. I was roasted and struggling to breathe. The next stage climbs some 1200 feet in one go to the wild top end of Glen Affric  passing first Camban bothy and then on to Alltbeithe youth hostel. It was cooler in the glen with a welcome slight breeze but the sun beat down in defiance of the rainy forecast.  I suffered mightly during the run with a mantra of 'why are you doing this?' running through my mind for the full 19 miles.  I mixed short walks with shorter and shorter runs and finally got it over with in about 4 hours 15. I was sure that I had gone too slowly to break my 6 hour target but I did a quick transition and got onto the road on the  bike. 
The first few miles were agony but I soon got a rhythm going and hit the hill down to Fasnakyle at a good lick. At some point before Cannich I broke my road bike distance record for the last two years - I had not exceeded 8 miles on skinny tyres since the last time I did the cross in 2010. Still, I was actually enjoying it - the speed is a bit seductive - and battered into Cannich in a decent time. If I could keep it up 6 hours might be on. I struggled to keep the speedo up at 20 and any wee gradient caused me to back off and drop a gear as my legs tightened towards cramp. Then came the last short climb of Aigas brae which is feared beyond all measure in Cross legend - it takes minutes but such is the toll in cramp that it can take on tired legs that the outsider would think it was the Alpe DHuez. The top is always an emotional moment for me - when you see the Fire Brigade support team at the top you know you have cracked the cross and it is just a wee downhill roll to Beauly. 
As I started the descent a quick look at the watch confirmed that I had clawed back enough time to make 6 hours if I could keep the pace up but just towards the end of the descent I hit traffic and got stuck behind the Cairngorm MRT landrover which in turn was crawling along behind some guys on mountain bikes. I cursed my luck but rather than sacrifice the 6 hours I tried some hairy overtaking and streaked out onto the main road at Lovat bridge. More traffic and more cursing but then I had a lucky break as an ambulance came out of Beauly and the cars pulled in to allow it through. Once it passed I took the chance and shot past before the cars could pull back out. Then it was just a half mile into Beauly Square and into the finish lane and under the clock with 90 seconds to spare. Then the cramp hit and I had to be helped off the bike.
Is it worth it? Aye, it is if you are fit for it but if not it's a long suffer of a day. I think it is my last one but there again I said that the last time....

Great Glen Why?

During my long run on Friday, I was once again reminded of how poor a route the Great Glen Way is.

Anybody coming from a distance to do this route must be sorely disappointed at the mixutre of tarmac, fire track and commercial forestry they have to trog through. Add to this the almost total lack of views of the Loch and it must be quite a let down. The earlier parts are not much better - Fort Augustus to Drum is the same mix of commercial forestry and B roads.

If you are doing the GGW after completing the West Highland Way it will be the sublime to the ridiculous.  The West Highland Way is a natural line stringing together some beautiful areas in a fine route of continual interest. Add in some great wee pubs and it is a fine way to spend a week.

In contrast, the GGW is a lost opportunity. Had it been taken up the south side of the Loch it would have been far superior covering areas like the pass of the fair haired lads and the river side routes mentioned in previous blogs.

But, as with so much in the outdoor arena in Scotland it appears that the actual route is  a compromise between vested interests - landowners limiting access forcing the route into the publicly owned forest and ensuring that walkers have plenty of exposure to Nessie tat even if they rarely see the loch.

The way has some redeeming features such as the lovely section from Invergarry to Fort Augustus but for the walker who wants to really experience the Glen I would suggest the following. Follow the GGW from Fort William to Fort Augustus to get the best of it but then  get the bus to Whitebridge and complete the walk to Inverness using the lightly trod paths of the South Loch Ness Trail,

It also has its limitations but it tries much harder.

Running on empty

A long evening run from Drum to Inverness as part of my training for the Highland Cross. I am not capable of running all 17 miles but a combination of walking the climbs and jogging the flats gets the job done. This type of distance begins to have both a physical and mental impact. After around 12 miles all the stored energy in the body is gone and you keep going on a combination of whatever you  can eat and willpower. When you add the isolation - I did not see a soul in 17 miles - and a bitter east wind it adds up to self abuse. By the time I reach the canal side in Inverness I felt hollowed out. Still, it does show that it can be done....I wonder if I could take it up to 20.....

A night under the err...star

God bless Her Majesty. For the mere price of an established hereditary principle and the upholding of 1000 years of subjugation at our own expense we get three holidays in just over a year. I have made good use of this royal bounty by hitting the hills on all 3 occasions. 

The Jubilee wheeze was a traverse of the north side of Kintail from Cluanie to Morvich taking in 6 Munros and 3 tops with a bivvy at the midpoint. While the hills were grand the bivvy was a new experience for me. We found a fine spot under Sgurr na Ciste Dubh where some small horseshoe rock walls indicated that others had had the same idea. It was sheltered from a keen north wind but it had little in the way of a view but we settled down for the night after a few brews and a wee dram. I snuggled down into my bivvy bag and looked forward to a fine night of stars and meteors.  It was 11.30 before the first star winked on to be followed by ...well...nothing. The night was too bright for any sort of display and even when I woke at the back of 2am only the major constellations like the Plough and Cassiopeia were out. The bright night was added to by a full moon which did not rise high enough to reach our bivvy sight but still cast a pale glow over the face  of the hill behind. 

A fine,comfortable night was passed and despite a frost settling I was so warm I had to rise to cast off layers. 

Bed, breakfast and boulders

In the morning we rose at a leisurely pace,brewed up and broke camp and had polished off three Munros by a shade after 10am. That's got to be a good day. I felt moved enough for a quick rendition of the national anthem but I could not remember the words.

Fannich forest again

We took the bikes in from the Achnasheen road up the long tarmac estate road to Fannich Lodge. In a similar fashion to Strathfarrar this appears to by a hydro road - publicly funding but access denied by the estate. Fannich Lodge proved to be a bleak outpost overlooking the dull waters of the upper loch. Even in the sunshine it seemed drab and grey. 

We dropped the bikes behind an outbuilding and struck up through the woods, completely missing the path until we emerged at the small stream half a mile up. A good stalker's path meandered up the broad ridge all the way to the stony summit of Meall Gorm. We sat for a while in a large rock shelter still filled with snow to eat lunch and take in the views. From there we wandered out to An Coileachan where we met an Italian woman who was faced with the walkout from hell north towards the Ullapool road (see Hills from Hell). Our southerly route was far easier even including the 15 mile round trip on the bikes. Our anticipated downhill freewheel to the car is somewhat spoiled by a ripping head wind which makes the ride out more uphill than the ride in. Tough day or maybe I am just getting old.