Day 1

The café in Achnasheen at lunchtime on Friday. Piping hot lentil and vegetable soup followed by coffee and homemade cake. Outside sleet falls from great grey clouds drifting over Strath Bran. I’m excited to be back in the North West Highlands but a little nervous about the weather forecast and how far my three season gear will be tested over the coming couple of days. I’m also a little concerned about how much of a problem the cold and flu I’m still suffering from will play a part in proceedings.

At 2pm the car park at Craig was already almost full. I squeezed my car into the one remaining viable space and got my kit sorted. I was still pondering kit choices but finally settled on my Montane Extreme winter jacket (leaving behind my Vapour Rise and shell jacket) and put my microspikes into the top of the pack. It’s a cool 7 degrees as I set off, crossing the road and the railway line and then following the easy vehicle track along to the crossing over the river Carron. The sleety rain had cleared and the sun was out. In the sheltered glen amongst tall pines it was almost pleasant though the jacket remained firmly zipped up. I came across a family having a late lunch by the track which is flanked by bright yellow gorse and the occasional blossoming pink flower.

Ahead of me the buttressed west wall of Sgurr nan Ceannaichean blocks the glen, sending the track around its lower flanks until the view is dominated by the twin summits of Sgurr Choinnich and Sgurr a’ Chaorachain linked by a perfect catenary ridge, dusted with snow. I left the track and dropped down to the dubious bridge across the Allt a’ Chonais. A slow, steady few steps got me safely across and then I was heading up on the excellent stalkers path which climbs a long ridge of Sgurr na Feartaig, the Corbett which sits above Craig and the river Carron.

This path is a delight, steadily gaining height whilst winding around outcrops and lumps in the ridge. The views opened out with the spectacular panorama of the Torridon hills catching my eye. More showers were sweeping in but they passed to the east across Strath Bran and the Fannaichs, leaving me in bright sunshine. I climbed up onto the lower plateau of Sgurr na Feartig where its two lochans lie in splendid isolation. The views were astounding and sheltered from the wind I sat and munched on a chocolate bar, listening to the wind and watching the sunlight play on distant hillsides.

I wound my way between the lochans and then followed the faint track, mostly obscured by wind-blown snow, up towards the summit. It is a lumpy hill but eventually the large cairn marking the summit hoved into view. The sun was hidden behind a cloud and the wind fiercely cold. On the lee side of the cairn I found some shelter and enjoyed the views over Beinn Tharsuinn and the other Monar hills.

With a spattering of rain and the views closing in I headed off the summit. It is very steep sided and the south east ridge is not well defined so I ended up slightly off to one side, picking my way down a slippery slope towards the Bealach Bhearnais. It was a relief to reach the flat ground of the bealach where I was finally sheltered from the wind and soon the sun came again out to warm things up. I passed a Laser Competition pitched in a scooped hollow near the summit of the col.

Following the path I headed up from the col to the eastern end of Beinn Tharsuinn. This long, winding hill is a Corbett with the summit at the diagonally opposite end from where I was standing. After climbing the steep eastern end it is then an easy walk along multiple summits, crossing clefts and gullies which were acting as perfect wind breaks. Off to the west were views of the sea and of Skye and as the rain clouds moved away the hills to the east came back into view.

Ahead of me as I approached the summit cairn of Beinn Tharsuinn the views of the West Monar hills were stunning. The long ridge of Lurg Mhor and the distinctive peak of Bidein a’ Choire Sheasgaich had their features picked out in snow, the sunlight catching the dark rock. At the top the wind was once again gusting strongly but I put my sack down and hunkered down to admire the views. The sinuous s-curve of Loch Monar stretches out to the east; to the north west is Torridon; Skye sparkles across the water; and all around me were fantastic mountain ridges and summits. I had the place completely to myself and it was a special, wonderful moment.

Time had crept on as I sat enjoying the summit and the hills were bathed in early evening light by the time I got moving again. I dropped down the south slopes of Beinn Tharsuinn, heading for the nameless lochan that sits in shallow scoop before the big drop off into the glen below Sheasgaich.

My plan was to camp here but on arrival besides the water I could tell the wind was going to be an issue. I dropped my sack and did a perambulation around the lochan, investigating every possible hollow for shelter but everything came up short. The only calm spot was immediately below the shoulder of Beinn Tharsuinn’s summit cone but just here the ground was extremely boggy. Instead I followed the outflow from the lochan a short way downhill to where a convenient line of crags provided shelter from the wind. A flat area of dry land was all I needed and I found it in short order, soon getting the tent up as a brief flurry of hail fell from the sky.

I spent the Friday evening exploring the hillside around the camp, gathering water and then cooking up some dinner. More hail fell as I sat enjoying a delicious steak and ale stew.

At around 9pm, and as the light started to dwindle, I grabbed my camera and an extra insulation layer and climbed the short distance back up to the summit of the Corbett. Already the flurries of snow and hail had formed an icy, white layer and at the top it was bitterly cold. It didn’t matter though as the beautiful sight of the sun dipping towards the Torridon hills was sensational. Although there was some cloud around it served only to emphasise the colours, bathing the hills in a fiery orange that turned reddy purple as the solar disc descended. At last the sun disappeared behind thicker clouds banked beyond the hills and I made my way carefully back down to my tent. Ice was rapidly forming on the path and I found a thin crust already on top of the water in my Platypus.

Above Lurg Mhor the full moon (a supermoon no less) had risen and it was this that I watched as I lay back in my tent listening to a couple of podcasts. Much later on I got out to brush my teeth and noticed that a lot of the cloud had cleared. Venus shone over the lochan in the west and there was pinprickling of stars across the hard blue dome of the sky. The moon bright and full bathed the scene in a glorious light.

Day 2

The second day, Saturday morning, dawned rather less fantastically than the previous day had ended. Waking up cosy and warm in my down sleeping bag surrounded by a heap of clothes that had been taken off in stages during the night I could hear the gentle rustle of snow sliding off silnylon. I poked my head out of the tent to be greeted by a white world, cloud swirling across the cols and snow falling from leaden skies.

It was still early so I rolled over and dozed for another hour or so, waking up in a surprisingly warm tent. Blinking into the bright sunshine I once again looked outside to find a transformed world. The cloud had been swept away to leave the most remarkable of vistas: bright, snowy mountains under a clear blue sky. I think I may have whooped as I pulled on my solidly frozen shoes, donned a couple of layers of insulation, and stepped out into this magical kingdom.

Coffee was the first order of the day and luckily the outflow from the lochan was still free moving so I didn’t have to melt my frozen Platyplus for a morning brew. Coffee and a cereal bar were consumed as I wandered around, gazing off at the magical mountain panorama I had awoken in.

Over my shoulder was the imposing north face of Bidein a’ Choire Sheasgaich, and my challenge for the day. I wanted to climb the mountain by this classic scrambling route but was a little concerned about the ice hidden amongst its shadowed crennalations. I had done plenty of reading over the preceding week and knew there was a good route up it with just a few sporting sections of rock action. However, now I saw it in person it was an intimidating sight, presenting 250m of jumbled crags riven by impossibly angled gullies and crowned by a mighty headwall. Was it possible? I guess I would find out.

Climbing back up to the lochan I got awesome views of the reflected summit of Beinn Tharsuinn and then headed west, dropping down a steep little scramble through a rock terrace and then along to the bealach below the western top. It was an easy drop down angled grassy slopes to the bealach below Sheasgaich where I now paused in the sunshine to look up at the massed defences.

Following intelligence gained by reading other trip reports I initially followed the dry stone wall which angled up and away from the bealach. The ground was a little boggy at first but as I got into the shade of the face itself the cooler temperatures meant it was crisper and my footing was surer. The face turned out to be a series of terraces connected by steep but easily climbed ramps, sometimes of rock but mostly grass. I was quickly a third of the way up and already the views were opening out. I now came to what turned out to be the crux. The path seemed to split, with the clearer branch heading right a short way up to the base of an arête. The other branch was fainter, angling up towards a grassy ramp, laced with frost, which I imagine is the technically less challenging route. I took a moment below the arête to stow my poles and cinch down my bag before tackling the rock.

There were a couple of tricky moves to start with though helpfully the holds were positive and it was easy to gain height. Then I got to an area where the turf had been welded to the rock, albeit badly. I tugged at a couple of holds which came away in my hand. Luckily underneath the brittle turf I found a good hold and with a secure stance made the final few moves to top out on another grassy terrace. Although the way was now steeply up a grassy gully there were adequate footmarks and steps in the turf so I was soon up. Although the headwall had looked tricky from below, the path I was following picked out an easy weakness and I was soon punching the air as I topped out at the balcony at around 800m. It was a great feeling to have conquered such a challenging ascent in pretty sketchy conditions.

From the balcony I took in the brilliant views both east and west as snow covered hills were revealed rising up from the frosty glens. I took a few minutes and then carried on, now walking up a gentle slope to the plateau which runs across to the main summit. The snow was crisp and I soon wended my way through the outcrops to reach the serene lochan below the dark rock of the Munro’s summit pyramid.

After the earlier work it all felt very easy and after getting distracted by a couple of Ptarmigan I was soon walking along the summit ridge to the airy cairn marking the top of Bidein a’ Choire Sheasgaich.

As with any remote Munro at 10:30am in the morning it was only right to encounter someone else. Quite unbelievably they had walked through from Craig that morning to reach the summit just before me. This made me feel very lazy. They took a few snaps and then headed off to Lurg Mhor, leaving me to enjoy the peace and splendid position of this prized Munro. The views down Loch Monar towards the Strathfarrar Hills were sublime and south were the Mullardoch and Affric Hills with Loch Calavie just making an appearance. I stood on the summit, sending a few texts and munching on some food before observing that I was being followed up by a group of four walkers. The guy in front reached the summit just as I was about to leave and so we had a brief chat about the great conditions and views. They had already done a couple of Munros the previous evening and had camped back at Pollan Buidhe.

After this encounter I descended the easy south-eastern slopes of Sheasgaich to the col below Lurg Mhor. It is hard to believe that this grassy hill is the same mountain as that seen from the north. The climb up Lurg Mhor was a bit of a slog through snowy boulder fields and the weather was by now closing in, the skies grey and banks of sleety rain moving through the glen, obscuring the Monar Forest Hills beyond the loch.

I had the summit to myself and clambered up the cairn to take in the views before being joined by a couple from Fort William who had approached from the east. They were bagging Munro tops and so I quizzed them about the scramble across the ridge to the eastern top of Lurg Mhor which has a bit of a reputation. They said that most of the tricky stuff could be bypassed and so, although my plan had been to return to the col, I decided to go over and have a look at the ridge.

They moved off to get back to their tent beside the loch and I stayed on the summit a while, munching on oatcakes, salami and cheese, looking out at the drifting clouds over the Affric and Shiel hills and away out to Skye. It was magnificent, a wilderness view in every respect with lochan-pocked glens separating high snow-capped peaks.

After lunch and just before the foursome caught up I headed over to the ridge. It would have been easier to head back to the col but I was feeling adventurous and without any particular rush to be anywhere. The ridge turned out to be great, 96% fantastic knife-edged ridge walking, 3% hands on scrambling and 1% all out where-the-heck-do-my-hands-and-feet-go terror. After dropping quickly down to the low point using good hand and foot holds I reached the pinnacles. Although it is only a very short stretch of rock there are definitely a couple of tricky sections. I took most of the pinnacles direct but there was one I knew was quite tricky so when a bypass path appeared I took it, thinking I had now missed the worst bit. Of course, a couple of seconds later I was halfway around a pinnacle when I ran out of footholds, my arms wrapped around a bulging block that was throwing me out over a rather nasty drop. This was not what I wanted. I love scrambling, but prefer it with a light daypack. With my camping pack on my centre of gravity was wrong for the move. I quickly got myself into a safe stance and then peered around the overhang. There was a shelf which soon became the recipient of my bag and camera. Freed from these encumbrances (and with the incentive of having to cross the pinnacle to recover them) I found it was then an easy reach around the bulge to a sure hold and in no time I was over, breathing heavily, heart racing.

The next pinnacle was even more ridiculous looking, a steep climb with very little in the way of handholds so here I took the sensible decision to drop down a grassy gully, bypassing the rock and then climbing back up to the ridge. From here it was an easy walk along the arête to quickly reach the point where it widened out onto the summit of the eastern top of Lurg Mhor.

Now I thought, my troubles were definitely over. Wrong! The cloud closed in and I now had to identify the best way to drop down to Loch Monar. Meal Mor turns into a long gently sloping ridge that eventually drops down to Pait Lodge, a long way from anywhere. Ideally I wanted to get off the hill before then and I knew that other people had done it, finding steep but manageable slopes. Unfortunately the topography of the ridge makes it difficult to identify a good spot to start and rather than just continuing along I soon came to the head of a wide coire that was snow filled at the top and craggy towards the bottom. Something of a path could clearly be seen at the top but I wasn’t sure exactly what happened to it. I decided to give it a go.

About an hour and a half later I reached the valley floor. The descent had been pretty unpleasant. Very steep, slick grassy slopes that wound between crags and gullies with one in particular filled with the remains of a recent cornice collapse. I never felt unsafe at any point but it did necessitate very slow and careful footwork. The angle didn’t ease off until right near the very bottom and so I was very grateful when I could finally stand up properly. I angled off towards the head of Loch Monar, the third tricky stretch of the day done!

Loch Monar is a dammed loch and the water level is currently a lot lower than its usual height (or however the OS determine the extent of these things?) so it was a muddy wade out to actually reach the shore. After gazing out over the still grey waters I returned to the path through the glen and followed it along a short stretch. I wasn’t sure what to do now. It was 3pm and it seemed like the sun was coming out. If I wanted to stick to my original plan I would have to reascend the steep slopes on this side of the glen and then make me way along three further Munros before finding a place to camp. In hindsight I could have found a good camping spot en route but by this point, and after all the unexpected scrambling, I was feeling ready just to relax.

I plumped my pack down and put up my tent. This was a good decision as no sooner was the last peg in but a heavy hailstorm started. I retreated inside and pulled out my Kindle and some snacks. I wasn’t going anywhere.

To have walked six miles in a relaxed and lazy six hours, ascended a few thousand feet and ended up in such a wild, unpeopled place felt pretty special. I alternated over the next few hours between reading (when it was hailing) and wandering around (when it was sunny). As evening fell it started to snow more determinedly and after one such spell I looked out to find the mountains white again with the snow line just a hundred metres or so above the floor of the glen.

I enjoyed dinner and then dozed off in my tent as more clouds swept in from the northwest.

Day 3

Sunday morning dawned as bright and crisp as Saturday though this time I wasn’t surrounded by a snowy scene. Lazy clouds drifted through but the weather seemed remarkably settled. As the sun rose over the shoulder of the hills the tent warmed up nicely and I was soon ready to brew up some coffee down on the beach and have a wander around to wake up my stiff legs.

I knew that MWIS were forecasting stormy weather for the afternoon and so I was keen to get moving. By 8am I was packed and on the move, still to determine my final plan. I climbed steeply up the slopes immediately above my campsite. Soon the glen opened out below me and Loch Monar, the sky perfectly reflected in its calm surface, stretched out languidly into the sunny east.

The going was unrelenting but I gained height quickly, moving across the hillside as the terrain varied from rocky to grassy to icy. Eventually I was in the final throat of the gully which led me up onto the spectacular ridge line just beneath the summit of Sgurr Choinnich’s southern top, Sgurr na Conbhaire. The mountains were still dusted with snow and there was a delightful looking ridge winding its way north to the summit of the Munro. I stopped here, breathing in the crisp cold air, sending a few texts and generally enjoying this solitary magnificence.

From here I followed the ridge which gave a delightful high level traverse above the coires of the Bealach Crudhain and the Toll a’ Chaorachain with views along the line of hills heading to Maoile Lunnaidh.

As I approached the point where the spur ridge I was on meets the main spine of the hills, cloud was drifting in and the snow underfoot was getting deeper. At the junction I could have turned right and traversed the ridge across to Sgurr a’ Chaorachain but I decided that could wait for another day. Instead I turned left and walked along the mountain to the summit of Sgurr Choinnich, the third Munro of the trip as well as the high point at 999m.

The views came and went with glimpses of the Torridon hills, coated in white, seen between gaps in the swirling cloud. To the south it was a bit clearer and I could see the complete ring of hills I had come around over the past couple of days. After chatting to a couple who were heading off to do the ridge I started my descent, following a clear snowy path down off the western arm of the mountain.

The way down was largely straight forward with just a couple of short scrambly sections to clamber down. The weather conditions improved and by the time I reached the bealach the sun was again shining.

A well constructed path climbs up to Bhearnais from Pollan Buidhe and I followed this down towards the glen where the trip had started almost forty-eight hours previously. I stopped at one of the side streams to refill my bottle and in the sheltered glen with the sun shining down I felt warm again. The view down the long line of hills into Glenuaig was spectacular and I chatted to a chap who had driven up from Bristol to bag some Munros.

At Pollan Buidhe itself the water level was low so the lack of wire bridge wasn’t a problem. Across the water I chatted to a trio of Glasweigen Corbett baggers who were interested in my tent and questioned whether my Nuun tablet infused water (which was a virulent shade of purple) wasn’t meths!

With the sun shining it was quite beautiful although the chill wind and snow on the tops still meant it didn’t feel like May. However I was able to lose a few layers of clothing before commencing the march out down the land rover track, meeting my outward route sometime later. I crested the pass and then enjoyed the descent down to Craig, stopping off at a spot which enjoyed magnicient views of the Coulin Hills for a last lunch.

Then it was back to the car and off to find refreshments. In hindsight I should have driven down to Lochcarron because everywhere until Contin seemed to be closed. After a brief stop there I was on my way and in fact traffic on the A96 proved to be less bothersome than usual such that I was back in Aberdeen before five. A quite wonderful trip. It was nice for things to not be about mileage and summits, but just absorbing the views and lingering over these wonderful hills.

Though the site might appear overwhelming at first, thanks to a robust search feature getting to the right information is generally straight forward. If you have an an Ordnance Survey grid reference you can type this in directly to Geograph and view photos taken of “features” within that square kilometre. As well as going to specific squares you can also search for features or place names which works well for rivers and hills. Features can be almost anything: from the land itself, through rivers and lakes, to buildings or gates. This can be a valuable tool to look for recent photos of remote bridges or bothies, or to look at the conditions of paths, but for me one of the best uses has been checking out the suitability of an area for wild camping.

On my most recent trip across the Grampian Mountains I was looking to camp on the Corbett Beinn Mheadhonach. The Ordnance Survey 1:50,000 map reveals a good saddle of land between the main summit and the northern top. Using Geograph I put in the grid reference and was able to see immediately that the area wasn’t a complete mess of bog, or a boulder field, and so felt pretty confident about finding a suitable pitch.
I’ve done the same when looking at camping in a glen besides a river to check for dryish land or up on summit ridges to check that the terrain has some flatness to it. Geograph probably won’t guide you to the exact site you’ll pitch your tent (after all, half the fun is rolling about in the heather trying to find the least lumpy spot) but it may give you some confidence that you will find somewhere in that locality.

Of course, the site is only as good as the uploaded photos. If you are browsing around and notice an empty or under-photographed square on your route then maybe make a note to take a photo of that area for the site whilst you are passing through. I wouldn’t expect people to give up that super secret camp site or bothy that they’ve been returning to for years, but even general views of areas can be very helpful for trip planning. I’ve recently uploaded my first photos to the site – adding to three squares that were without photos.

Note also that Geograph operates under a Creative Commons license; everything on the site can be reused as long as it is attributed and the other conditions of the licensing are observed. If you are a photographer this means you must release your photo under that license (though the copyright of course remains yours). This does mean that Geograph photos can quite often turn up in Wikipedia articles.

Finally, whilst Geograph have been sponsored by the Ordanance Survey up until now, it looks like that deal will be ending soon and so to continue running and developing the site Geograph are considering different ways of raising funds, from subscriptions to advertising and more. They have a very detailed survey to get some insight from users and visitors on how they might want to see funding working so if you have an interest in the project it would be worth taking a few minutes to fill it in.

Sunday morning, 6:45am. Most sensible, well-adjusted people were still in their beds, grumbling at the noise of ice being noisily chipped off a windscreen and the idling engine bringing some much needed warmth to a frozen car. I was off by 7, the streets of Aberdeen quiet but brightly lit by sunshine. It remained that way for the whole of the journey. The petrol station outside of Dundee still seemed to be catching up with deliveries but I did eventually find a working unleaded pump (are the retailers trying to force us into buying their “premium” stuff with all these continuing shenanigans?) and then it was a fun blast along the road past Loch Earn and over Glen Ogle to Crianlarich and my parking spot besides the A82 just short of Tyndrum.

The hills basked in the early morning sunshine but there was definitely a chill to the air – the car temperature had struggled to get above 4C the whole way. To back this up the higher mountains were crowned in picture book caps of bright white snow. In particular Ben More and Stob Binnein, rising up above Crianlarich, were dramatic, bringing to mind scenes more out of the Rockies or the Alps than humble Scotland.

Crossing the busy road you quickly reach the river Fillan chattering over rocks, the water level very low, and the sound of traffic soon fades away. Here I briefly joined the West Highland Way, following it past Kirkton Farm, the ruins of St Fillan’s Priory, and then through open farmland along to the farms, camping ground and tipis at Auchtertyre. After crossing the stream I left the Way, turning right and following a vehicle track alongside the stream and under the West Highland railway which crosses the gap on an impressive bridge.

The initial stages of this walk are a good warm up. You ascend from the strath at a gentle angle, the views opening out both ahead and behind. The stream chatters along in a wooded gorge to the right until you reach more open moorland. Here there is a small footbridge which could be used to access the slopes of Ben Challum. I carried further on though until I came to the mouth of the glen containing the Allt a’ Chaol Ghlinne with views up to Ben Odhar where I crossed over and wound my way up through a sizeable ruined village which was dotted with sheep chewing on grass poking up amongst the stones.

This cuts out a wide loop of the vehicle track which I rejoined higher up for a short way before leaving it again to ascend directly up the broad southern slopes of Beinn Chaoraich. This is a long, long ascent at an almost constant gradient. The views over to Ben Challuim and back to the Tyndrum hills improved the whole time and there were many stops to take in the views, especially as in the lee of the hill, in bright sunshine it was pleasantly warm. I did however manage to fall up to my knee in a bog at one point…

Without much further ado, although it was noticeable that the cloud had started to thicken a little, I arrived at the lumpy summit, adorned with a trig point. Out of the shelter of the hill there was a distinctly icy chill to the wind and I soon had an extra insulation layer on under my thick winter jacket. I breathed in the remarkable views, mountains from horizon to horizon, with views out to Ben Cruachan, the Black Mount and the Mamlorn hills closer by, as well as the Crianlarich and Tyndrum hills. After this I munched on a cereal bar and had some water, sadly remembering my flask of hot tea sitting on the counter at home…

I now had a snow tramp down the north ridge of Beinn Chaoraich, following a strange fence that was barely a foot high with no wire left. In front of me the views opened up to the Bridge of Orchy Munros, the distinctive conical shape of Ben Dorain clearly seen rising above the diminutive line of the railway. Further east were the hills in the Forest of Mamlorn, again capped in snow.

After a slightly steeper final descent I picked up a clear track across the bealach and began the climb up to the second Corbett, Cam Chreag. I followed the strange fence line for some way until it veered off towards some crags. The western side of this hill is a jumble of lumpy overhangs and riven by numerous streams making a direct ascent difficult. By this point I was back above the snowline and a set of footprints left the fence and continued more or less up the hill so I followed these. Soon the views were opening up with Ben Challuim appearing from behind a shoulder, as well as a view back to the day’s first hill.

After wending my way across some snow-choked streams and around a few frozen pools I finally got to the real summit, a tiny cairn perched on a jumble of rocks at one end of an undulating plateau. It had fantastic views, my eyes drawn to the end of Loch Lyon and the Mamlorn Hills as well as further off to the Black Mount. I stopped here for lunch, finding a nice nook of rock to sit in, largely sheltered from the cold wind.

From here my route took my along the summit plateau which undulates quite a bit before it reaches its rocky eastern end. The views to Ben Challum improved as I crossed each successive top until I reached the final outcrop of rock. Here there were views all the way along upper Glen Lochay to where the Lawers range stood sombre in the grey light.

I now briefly retraced my steps to pick up my descent route down the extreme southern spur of the hill which leads down to the Bealach Ghlas Leathaid. I had eyed this descent line from a few different angles and it looked steep but manageable. It turned out to be fine, steep grass but with plenty of grip and no snow. As I got lower down I came to a section of crags (the fence line leads straight over them so you should be very careful in poor visibility). I found easier ground to my right and after bypassing the crags rejoined the line of fence posts where a faint track took me down to the col.

I was now standing below the imposing northwest ridge of Ben Challuim. I had been checking this out all day to make sure it was passable. The guidebooks don’t mention it at all but I had seen a couple of trip reports that had talked about combining the Munro and Corbett so knew it was possible to ascend and descend the ridge. Looking up it was clear that the difficulties were lower down. My views from the day’s earlier hills had shown the ridge easing off in angle from about a third of the way up with no rocky difficulties thereafter. There are however two sets of crags lower down. I climbed up initially just to the right of the crest where steep grass made for quick progress. Looking up I had a good view of the first slabs and although I had initially thought to bypass them completely, I could now see a weakness, a line of turf and jumbled rock passing between two big areas of rock. I aimed for this and found it provided easy scrambling. As I approached two figures came to the top of the second set of crags. After hesitating momentarily they disappeared to the right and soon after emerged above me, descending through the same weakness. We paused to exchange pleasantries. They were thinking about heading over to the Corbetts and I gave them a bit of advice for the ascent.

Thereafter I continued on my way, scrambling up through some terraces that had some lying snow. The second set of crags were much more straightforward and I had soon scrambled up to their crest enjoying the views steeply down to the bealach and a great sense of achievement. It was now a plod up through the snow on the crest of the ridge which had by now flattened out quite a bit. The snow was crisp and the gentle angle meant I felt happy with just a pole rather than taking out the axe. Soon enough the summit cairn came into view and I was on the top of Ben Challuim, the day’s Munro and number 122 for me.

Although the cloud had gradually built the views were superb with visibility pin sharp in all directions and for many miles. A couple were eating lunch behind the cairn and I too took the opportunity to eat some more food and just wander around enjoying the vista. Another group of walkers arrived. They had had a wintry day in the Mamores and so were pleased with the views from Challuim. Gradually the summit cleared until I had it to myself. Munching on an apple and sipping cool mountain stream water, the views sublime, it was a good way to while away a few minutes on a Sunday afternoon.

Conscious that I still had a long drive ahead of me once I got off the hill I was soon packed up and heading off the summit. As the usual route is an out-and-back from Kirkton Farm there was a very well trodden trench through the snow which I followed off the summit and down to pick up the west ridge. Crossing the snow filled gully I briefly visited the southern top before continuing down.

Surprisingly it was quite a tricky ascent with the steep path covered in well compacted and slippery snow. I cautiously descended and was glad when more patches of grass appeared, giving me a few more options. Soon enough though I was at the point where the land flattens off, a broad shelf sitting above Strath Fillan. I crossed this, initially following a track but quickly doubling back to pick up an alternative route that dropped me down a gully to meet the railway crossing over the West Highland Line.

Then it was a short walk back past Kirkton Farm to the road and my car. I got changed by the roadside and then headed into Crianlarich for a pot of tea and a glass of coke at the Ben More hotel. I was toying with the idea of getting dinner but decided to start back, picking up supplies in Perth on the way back.

The drive back was wonderful with evening sunshine lighting up the countryside. That was until I got to Stonehaven where veils of snow and sleet could be seen hung out across the North Sea like yesterday’s washing. Aberdeen itself was shrouded and I passed through the heavy sleety-rain just as I entered the city. Bizarrely by the time I pulled up at home the shower had passed and though it was gloomy I got the car unpacked without getting wet. Then it was time for a celebratory curry and a beer or two to mark the end of a long but hugely enjoyable day.

We visited the beautiful collection of Impressionist paintings housed in the Musée d’Orsay, Monet’s famous panoramic Water Lilies in the Musée de l’Orangerie and spent a couple of happy hours just wondering through the Musée du Louvre, particularly enjoying the wonderful Italian statue collection and some of the famous French paintings by David, Delacroix and Gericault.

We climbed to Montmartre by way of Pigalle and the Moulin Rouge, then enjoyed a great café lunch on a quiet back street before ascending to the dome of Sacré Cœur for stunning views across the whole of Paris.

We strolled along the banks of the Seine, crossing bridges and watching boats ply their way up and down the river. We wandered the islands, getting numerous different views of Notre Dame, the Conciergerie and Saint-Chapelle.

We had fresh croissants and espresso for breakfast and negotiated our way through the Metro system, only experiencing one break-down and one suspicious smoke event. We strolled through the gardens of Luxembourg and the Tuilleries as the first signs of spring crept through the city.

We watched, enthralled, as the traffic surged and foamed around the Arc du Triomphe, having already ascended it for the spectacular views from the west side of the city. We watched the Eiffel Tower light up as dusk fell and ate ice cream besides the fountains of the Trocadero. We visited Sartre and Baudelaire’s graves in Montparnasse ceremony and walked past the Royal Observatory where Cassini carried out his detailed observations of Saturn’s rings.

It was a truly brilliant few days and here are just a few photographic highlights with many more available on Flickr.

Notre Dame. f/8, 17mm, 1/200s, ISO 100.

The stained-glass in Saint-Chapelle on our first afternoon. f/4, 17mm, 1/25s, ISO 800.

Notre Dame, just two minutes from our hotel. f/11, 17mm, 1/160s, ISO 100.

A café lunch in Montmartre. f/7.1, 31mm, 1/160s, ISO 100.

La Louvre. f/7,1, 22mm, 1/125s, ISO 100.

Psyche Revived By Cupid’s Kiss in the Louvre. f/4, 40mm, 1/200s, ISO 800.

Satre’s Headstone in Montparnasse Cemetery. f/4, 40mm, 1/1250s, ISO 200.

Eiffel Tower at sunset. f/8, 40mm, 1/200s, ISO 400.

Cafe Noir. f/4, 22mm, 1/15s, ISO 100.

Seine at Sunset. f/8, 17mm, 1/800s, ISO 400

Pont Neuf. f/7.1, 17mm, 1/320s, ISO 400.

Eiffel Tower. f/7.1, 17mm, 1/500s, ISO 400.

The view from Sacre Coeur. f/6.3, 17mm, 1/200s, ISO 100.

Shakespeare & Co. the American bookshop. f/8, 30mm, 1/20s, ISO 100.

Sacre Coeur on a lazy afternoon. f/11, 17mm, 1/80s, ISO 100.

Montmartre. f/7.1, 17mm, 1/50s, ISO 100.

The Eiffel Tower from the Arc du Triomphe. f/8, 40mm, 1/200s, ISO 100.

L’Arc du Triomphe. f/5.6, 17mm, 1/250s, ISO 100.

Birdboxes in the Flower Market. f/4, 29mm, 1/250s, ISO 800.

Winged Victory of Samothrace in the Louvre. f/4, 26mm, 1/30s, ISO 800.

Looking down the Seine. f/9, 17mm, 1/160s, ISO 100.

Fountain in the Tuileries. f/9, 17mm, 1/160s, ISO 100.

If you came straight here then you might like to take a look at Part 1 and Part 2 of this report.

The next time I awoke it was that still, cold hour before dawn. The skies were much hazier, the stars mostly veiled and some patchy cloud was drifting around the glen. I dozed off again, waking some time later when the quality of light had changed and the sun was almost up. Outside it was a beautiful dawn. A crisp, deep blue sky, dewy grass, and the mountains all around me. I made a cup of coffee and sat around, watching the colours change and the sun suddenly crest the eastern hills. It was a stunning sight.

My lower than expected mileage the previous day meant I wanted to get an early start, but the beautiful sunlight and lazy feel to the morning was not conducive to this and it eventually took me almost an hour to get everything sorted and packed up.

Once away I followed the Feshie down until the point at which it is joined by the Eidart coming down from the heights around Monadh Mhor. A Scottish Rights of Way sign points you north to a bridge and I followed the path as it bobbed and weaved above this stunning section of river. This culminated at the Eidart Falls where the river cascades over a big drop into a dramatic pool. Above it is the somewhat rickety bridge which takes you over the river.

On the other bank there was not much sign of a path (besides the one heading back to the Feshie) and so after briefly trying to follow the river I gave it up for a lost cause and struck out across the bog, hoping to make the shortest distance across to the start of the ridge of Cnapan Eachan which was my chosen route up onto the plateau.

In the end it took longer than expected, including an annoying backtrack to retrieve a dropped hat which I had taken off as the morning rapidly warmed up. Thankfully though the bog did at last end and once I started gaining height I got glorious views into the head of the Eidart whilst the blue skies opened up above me. I climbed the final steep slopes up to the ridge and rejoiced in the feel of short, springy heather beneath my feet.

I soon joined a vehicle track coming up from the Eidart and followed this up steep, grassy slopes to the rocky top overlooking the river. A bubbling stream provided ample refreshment and the spectacular views to the high Cairngorms, encompassing Beinn Bhrotain, Cairn Toul and around to Braeriach, made all the effort worthwhile. I could have moved straight up to the plateau here but the slight deviations to look down over the Eidart were definitely worthwhile.

From this point on the going was much easier. Although I’d ascended in my base layer I now put my jacket on as there was a decent breeze blowing across the high ground. I headed west and soon picked up the clear vehicle track that heads across to Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair. There are a couple of cairns on the way but mostly it is high, rolling moorland across which I made good time. As midday struck I arrived at the summit of the trip’s fifth Munro.

The views were yet again quite hazy but I enjoyed looking back over the Feshie to the previous day’s hills and especially the spectacular view east across the plateau to the highest Cairngorm summits. I sat down at the small cairn and enjoyed a lunch, watching tiny, ant-like figures crawl along the various tracks that criss-cross this area. One of them made it up to the summit and I engaged in conversation with someone for the second (and last) time on the trip.

From Mullach there are a couple of choices for getting across to Sgor Gaoith, crossing the Great Moss (the Moine Mor). One is slightly longer but sticks to higher ground, whilst the other appears a little more direct but involves slightly more height gain and loss. I ended up doing a slight mix of the two, initially following the track and then contouring around the head of the impressive Coire Gharbhlach before making my way north and west to pick up the track again.

After crossing a stream which featured some impressive snow banks and collapsing bridges I climbed the slope and then left the path again to pick my way across mostly dry bog to the head of Glen Einich. Having camped there last October, but with limited views, I was keen to get a better view of this stunning glen.

On this day the views were spectacular and I sat for a few minutes perched over the cliffs, looking down to the loch far below and across to the massive bulk of Braeriach. The sun shone and the mountains basked in the unseasonable heat.

I then made me way along a narrow path that sticks close to the cliff edges providing great views down to the loch and along to the pointed summit of Sgor Gaoith. There was the occasional collapsing cornice to liven up the footfall. Too soon I was at the final slope to the summit, emerging onto a great tumble of rocks with a cairn purchased precariously on top (at 1,118m this was the high point of the trip).

The views down to the loch and across the vast expanse of the Cairngorms were stunning and to the west I now had good, albeit hazy, views out over the Feshie and Spey towards the Monadhliath. I sat on the northern side of the summit, sheltered from a strong wind, and enjoyed another snack, gazing peacefully down to Loch Einich.

At this point I decided (somewhat foolishly, as I think this led to a subsequent hot spot developing on my foot) that if I hurried I could probably make the 16:55 train from Aviemore. It wasn’t to be but I did increase my pace, following the clear track north to the subsidiary top of Sgoran Dubh Mhor which has a large cairn on a craggy summit. Now it was time to lose a lot of height, dropping down on a ridge to the unnamed spot height at 803m. For the Cairngorms this is a spectacular mountain ridge and as soon as I was away from the relatively busy summit of Sgor Gaoith I was again on my own. I jogged along the final slight climb up to Clach Choutsaich and paused on the rocky summit for my last high views.

Just as I approached the Argyle Stone I dropped down to a faint path that soon branched off down towards the first trees that fill the narrow Coire Follais. This is a quiet little route which features a fun path, both steep and slidey, that drops down rapidly besides the Allt Coire Follais. In this sheltered coire the temperature rose dramatically and it was a relief to get into the coolish shade of the forest. The path was overgrown and muddy in places but easy enough to follow. At one point fallen trees meant you diverted to the other bank but it was easy enough using fallen logs. As the gradient eased the flora grew higher but the track continued on. Suddenly though it petered out. I thrashed forward through some undergrowth and drawf pines only to find myself suddenly laughing out loud. Here was the main landrover track running down towards Loch an Eilein…

Reaching this clear track was a great weight off my shoulders. I knew now that the navigation, though unfamiliar, was unlikely to go too horribly wrong. The afternoon sun was wonderful and I moved on at a more gentle pace, content now to get to Aviemore at whatever time I arrived.

The track took me north and west and soon I spied through the trees the quiet works of Loch Gamhna, nestled beneath Ord Ban. I joined the path that circumanavigates Loch an Eilein and headed clockwise, pasuign occasionally to admire the beautiful views of this little slice of Highland perfection. I felt strangely out of place though. Here I was dusty and dishevelled after two nights and more than forty miles, whilst scattered around the track were couples and families out enjoying a relaxing Sunday afternoon. It all felt a bit strange.

The track quietened down as I approached the ruined castle and as I reached the far corner of the loch there was just one guy taking his kayak out of the water. I sat down on the shores and just breathed it all in: the faint smell of springtime; the cool water lapping at the shore; and the dark march of the Northern Corries beyond the pines.

I now briefly had some roadwalking to do, crossing the low hill to a series of crofts and holiday homes. The path is marked as heading off to the left but this appeared to run through someone’s garage so I deviated slightly, eventually doubling back on myself a short way to get back on track. After another short stretch on a good path I emerged at the main road which runs up to the Ski Centre. It was busy with cars heading back down at the end of the day, but at least there is a cycleway and path besides it which I followed all the way along to the River Spey.

Once across the river it was a right turn and then a short march along the road to the station in Aviemore. By now my feet were weary and the extra effort after Sgor Gaoith had given me a rather unpleasant hotspot. It was therefore a huge relief to sit down on a station bench and finally put my feet up.

I didn’t have too long to wait for a train so contented myself with fish and chips from a nearby establishment. I would have preferred a pint but didn’t think I had the time to wait. This meant of course that the train was delayed. With my feet up and a healthy dose of ultra-fatty calories, the extra twenty minutes were no great matter and soon enough I was leaving Aviemore heading north on a train that pleasingly had a more than healthy proportion of Gaelic speakers. The sun gradually sank beyond the hills as we climbed over the Slochd; a spectacular end to a spectacular day.

At Inverness I found a quiet watering hole near the station and enjoyed a couple of ice cold lagers whilst reading a bit more of my book and then it was the train ride back to Aberdeen, marred only by the usual weekend drunks heading back from their time in the big city…

Whilst actually doing the walk I didn’t have such a great feel for moving through a landscape. In fact it felt like more of a short series of day trips you might do on a walking holiday or weekend away. But as soon as I was on the train, lights flashing past the window, the bubble of conversation around me, I closed my eyes and immediately started to get a sense of that journey, the distance I had covered, and the experience of being in that wild landscape, far from any major human activity. Looking back now at the photos and writing these words I feel privileged that I got to experience such a landscape in this way, that I stuck to my plan, and that the weather was kind.

If you came straight here then you might like to start with Part 1 of this report.

The earlier starry skies had disappeared by dawn and I awoke to find a thick fog swirling around the tent. Visiblitiy was almost zero which was a little worrying as these hills aren’t the sort to really enjoy in thick mist. I dozed for another half an hour or so and then got up to make coffee and porridge. Amazingly as I sat eating breakfast the conditions dramatically changed; the thick cloud was swept away to reveal all the surrounding mountain peaks standing clear of cloud-covered glens.

This change in circumstances got me moving and I was soon packed up and ready to move on. My first hill for the day was to be Beinn Dearg, the Munro immediately to my west which is often accessed by the long walk up Glen Bruar from Blair Atholl, or by crossing over from Glen Tilt. I however was already at 850m and so after briefly going over the top of Carn a’ Chiaraidh, below which I had camped, I contoured around on very boggy ground to a point where I could access the southern slopes of Beinn Dearg. The ground was rough, waterlogged and crossed by many infant streams which gave me ample opportunity to refill my water and thoroughly wash my kitchen things. In this area I came across a large number of snow-white hares, careening through the tussocks. The weather was improving with every step and soon a watery sun was lighting up the landscape.

On reaching the slopes of Beinn Dearg I joined the baggers path and soon found my way to the top of this 1,008m high Munro which commands superb views in all directions. Although the views were hazy I could see north to the Cairngorms, west over Rannoch towards Glen Coe and south across a wide sweep of the Highlands. The mountains were patch with snow and rose above fog drifting through the lowlands. East of me was my Corbett of the previous day as well as Carn a’ Chlamain and beyond that the long sinuous ridge of the Beinn a’ Ghlo range.

The summit was empty, as befits 10am on a Saturday morning, and after a snack, some photos and a sit down I was on my way, now moving northward towards the Tarf. The summit ridge of Beinn Dearg is delightfully springy and soon I was over the northern top and dropping down the slope to Beinn Ghabhar. After taking in the views across to Beinn Bhreac and the winding line of the Tarf I dropped down towards the river, crossing a snow-choked stream and enjoying the supreme sense of remoteness that this area brings. At this point you are about as far from a road as it is possible to get in the UK and I was the only figure in a huge landscape. What a wonderful feeling!

The Tarf Water was easily crossed and again is another perfect location for wild camping. I however now made my way up the heathery slopes of Beinn Bhreac, initially following a stream but then climbing steep ground to reach the Corbett’s south-west ridge. Here I found firmer footing and was soon at the summit of this 912m Corbett.

As it was approaching midday, lunch was declared and I sat munching on oatcakes, cheese and salami as I admired the hazy views of the Cairngorms across the Feshie, as well as back towards the mountains I had already been over. The earlier cloud in the valleys had by now started to rise into a thick haze with the sun partially veiled by a thin layer of clouds. There was a breeze blowing and overall the conditions were just about perfect for walking.

After a half hour or so it was time to be pushing on as the afternoon presented itself with the two Tarf Munros before I would drop down to camp. I had been planning on getting quite close to the Cairngorm plateau and camp somewhere up the River Eidart but had realised that the nature of the terrain was slowing down progress. Instead I now looked out and saw an excellent bit of land next to the Feshie which should provide perfect camping.

From Beinn Bhreac I rapidly dropped down to the boggy bealach below Cnap a Coire Creagach which I then climbed, bypassing the first top but instead making for Cairn Mail Tionail. I deviated off course slightly to visit this top which commands spectacular views over the watershed separating the Feshie and the Geldie. Then it was an easy rise to the summit of Carn an Fhidhleir.

Again an empty summit presented itself. With the sun having burnt off most of the high cloud the light green moss around the cairn was brightly lit and I enjoyed the hazy views off in all directions. The hills of the morning now looked pleasingly distant, whilst the Cairngorms were looming a little larger. As I sat trying to get signal to send a text the first person since Blair Atholl hoved into view. He had camped at Geldie Lodge the previous night and had already been up An Sgorsoach. We had a pleasant chat and it was suggested our paths might cross as he returned to his tent, whilst I made for the Feshie.

After this pleasant encounter I once again shouldered my pack and now made my way eastward, following the easy going track that gently drops of the summit of Carn an Fhidhleir. It then traverses steep slopes to avoid the subsidiary top . These slopes were a bit treacherous with remaining snow banks covering the path. I climbed up over one of these and then made directly for the bealach to avoid any further trouble.

Another delightful stretch of bog was soon crossed and then it was a steep pull up the western slopes of An Sgarsach. Behind me the bog ran off down to the Tarf with familiar hills running off into the hazy distance. As I climbed higher I eventually picked up a path that sped up progress and I was soon standing on the summit of this 1,006m high Munro. The hazy views were similar to Carn an Fhidhleir but the cairn is more substantial and again I stopped for sustenance and an opportunity to send and receive messages. The sun was slowly creeping into the western part of the sky and the land was bathed in hazy golden sunlight. I now knew I wasn’t going to make it to the Cairngorm plateau before dark and so set my sights on the big bend in the Feshie where the river turns from an eastward course to a westward course separated from the Geldie by just a short stretch of undulating plateau.

The descent was initially straightforward until the ground levelled off and then I was back amongst tussock and bog. After a few photos of the mighty Cairngorms I crossed the Allt a’ Chaorainn and then waded through bog and small streams (including the very headwaters of the Geldie) to finally reach the dramatically wide Feshie. With little recent rain the water levels were low, rocky banks and beaches exposed. There was however clear evidence of high flows with debris strewn along the banks.

I picked up a faint path and followed it along the east bank of the river, trying to find a good compromise between sunset and sunrise views as well as good access to the river for water.

Finally I found my spot and encouraged by the setting sun soon had the tent up. My camp site was perfect, with views back to An Sgarsach, as well as to the long line of corries that eat into the south of the high Cairngorm plateau. The river quietly babbled away to the west and was soon stocked up with plenty of cool water.

A little breeze was blowing, just enough to set a chill, but sitting in the lea of the tent, a cuppa in hand, I watched with a feeling of great peace and tranquillity, the gradual setting of the sun beyond the western hills.

I had a very relaxed evening. The moon, Venus and Jupiter put on an excellent twilight show, and then I enjoyed a superb dinner of beef and ale stew. Although the breeze had disappeared along with the sun, the clear skies meant it got very cold, very quickly. Dinner was had inside the tent, but then I got out again for more stargazing and photos. Later I retired back to my warm sleeping bag, reading a few chapters before changing my watch to account for the “spring” forward and soon thereafter drifting off into a satisfied sleep.

I awoke at some point in the night and poked my head out to find another wonderfully starry sky. My socks were partially frozen but I went out anyway to play briefly with the camera again before the cold sent me back to my down cocoon.

After a week of glorious sunshine in Aberdeen I pulled back the curtains to find it was a grey Friday morning. I guess this is what happens when you book a day off work in order to head to the hills! Thankfully by the time I was heading down to the station, the heavier camping pack on my back, the sun was out and it was a glorious morning; an auspicious start. Train ticket purchased I was soon sitting on the relatively quiet 09:34 service to Glasgow Queen Street. Initially the weather and views were glorious, the sun shimmering off the North Sea, and the fields freshly ploughed and ready to show spring shoots. However, from around Arbroath the cloud built up and it was grey and a little gloomy by the time I got off the train at Perth.

After purchasing some lunch I had a half hour or so wait for my connection, joining the Highland Main Line and a train that felt distinctly touristier. Forty minutes later I was one of only two passengers who alighted at Blair Atholl. The other guy had a huge pack on, and after sitting reading the paper for a few minutes, he set off towards the village. I meanwhile crossed the tracks and then spent a couple of minutes sorting my pack, taking a ceremonial starting picture (of Blair Atholl station), and then headed off.

It was with a mixture of excitement, relief and trepidation that I started the walk. A strange feeling to think I was now out here and on my own, with almost three full days of walking ahead. There was really nothing left to get on with it though and so I quickly threaded my way along the Atholl estate roads to the Old Bridge of Tilt, spotting a couple of eagles wheeling over the fields. From the car park I started to pick up smaller footpaths which take you on a dramatic route above the tumbling gorge of the lower Tilt river. Eventually I was deposited back on a vehicle track and then the walking was very easy and pleasant for a while. The woods were still a little drab but birds were singing and the first signs of a green spring could be seen slowly emerging. Around a corner in the track (and after avoiding the Post Office truck) I got my first view of the bigger hills rising above the upper reaches of the glen.

After successfully crossing the silent rifle range I dropped down to the river near Gilbert’s Bridge and followed the river bank for a while, pausing briefly at the bend near Auchgobhal to take in the view up to the southern flanks of Carn a’ Chlamain, and further east the bulk of Beinn a’ Ghlo.

After crossing the narrow stone bridge that spans the Allt Mhairc I took a brief detour up to a ruined shieling with great views out over Glen Tilt. You could continue on the track here to get straight up on to the Corbett where I was to camp that night.

I had a Munro to bag though so continued further on up the Tilt, passing Marble Lodge and then starting to climb up after the bridge over the Allt Crominidh. A footpath quickly ascends the steep hillside, the views rapidly opening up, until it joins with the vehicle track that comes up from Clachglas.

This long spur is then followed all the way up to the summit of Carn a’ Chlamain. As I climbed, the views of the mountain became more dramatic and occasionally footpaths could be used to cut out corners in the winding vehicle track. I came across marshy areas where frogs were in the process of creating frogspawn, and eventually found a bubbling spring where I refilled my bottle with deliciously clear and cold water.

The views around me were hazy and it looked like a band of showers were passing the hills nearer Loch Tay. Briefly the summits of Beinn a’ Ghlo were shrouded in thin cloud. It was perfect walking weather though with just enough of a breeze to keep me cool and fabulous views of the surrounding hills. The grey, scree slopes of the summit cone of Carn a’ Chlamain now presented themselves, along with a strong and blustery wind. In no time I was up on the summit; my first new Munro since November 2011 and the first time above the magic 3,000 feet since New Year. It was a great feeling, especially as I had the hills completely to myself.

The stony summit was very cold and blowy so after taking in the views I hunkered down behind the cairn to send some text messages and eat a few snacks. It was now around four-thirty and my aim was to be pitching the tent by five-thirty. I could see my intended pitch in the distance but there was still some way to go so I started moving.

First it was an easy crossing of the mossy plateau west of the Munro summit to reach the top of Aonach na Cloiche Moire, and then a steep descent into the glen containing the winding Feith an Lochain which drops down from the lonely Loch Mairg. With springy grass and running water I was almost tempted to stop here but the thought of a high camp drew me forward. The two hundred metres or so of re-ascent weren’t bad in the end, and although I had filled my water reservoir up in the glen, I came across a clear stream running down from the bealach where I filled up again. This area was alive with yet more frisky frogs.

As I came out onto the plateau I spied a grouping of rocks below the final rise to Carn a’ Chiaraidh, the northern top of Beinn Mheadhonach, and it was here I found an excellent, flat shelf to camp on, the ground springy with moss. The wind had died down by now which made getting the tent up hassle free and soon I had everything sorted. The decision to stop with daylight still was good and before settling in for dinner I decided to go and bag the summit of the Corbett.

Date: 23rd March 2012
Distance: 4.46km
Ascent: 100m
Time: 43min
Hills: Beinn Mheadhonach (Corbett, 901m)
Weather: Mild, light breeze, increasingly cloudy
Route: Click to view on OS Map

Looking at the map this lay just south of me, probably a kilometre or so away and with barely 30 metres of ascent to worry about. The twilight was creeping up and the sky had clouded over quite thickly so it was quite gloomy as I made my way up. I was soon at the summit but then looking south there was a second top that looked slightly higher. I continued on to this one, only to find yet another further top that again seemed higher. By this time the faint pink of sunset which had briefly appeared over Beinn Dearg had faded from the sky and I was left in the misty gloaming. The third top proved to be the final one with the mountain dropping off quickly towards Glen Tilt. I took a few photos and then made my way back to the tent. I think the fading light had emphasised the illusion of height as the OS clearly mark the very first top as the spot height!

It was then time for a supper of lamb stew and pearl barley (a favourite of mine), eaten on a crag looking out on a misty world. The thick cloud allowed a few breaks and at one point I glimpsed Venus before it all closed in again. I retired to the tent to read for a while (Lustrum by Robert Harris, recently downloaded to my Kindle). When I poked my head out again a couple of hours later night had fallen and, amazingly, the sky had largely cleared to reveal a stunning star filled cosmic dome. I spent a long time star gazing, taking a few photos and preparing for the night before eventually snuggling down into my cosy sleeping bag.

With one Munro and one Corbett climbed, it had been a great start to the traverse and now I was ready for the big push across the Atholl Forest and Tarf hills.

The plan

After my last few circular walks, the plan this time was to do a through route making use of public transport. A classic route, reported on by several people, is Blair Atholl to the Aviemore (or vice-versa) by way of Glen Tilt, Glen Dee and the Lairig Ghru. This is a great route in its own right, with spectacular mountain scenery and a great feeling of wilderness. However, it misses out the tops and I was keen to add to my tally of Munros and Corbetts. I have only a handful of remaining Munros east of the A9, and conveniently six of them sat between Blair Atholl and Aviemore, so I devised a plan to bag them all in one long, somewhat winding, through route. To make the traverse work I briefly considered leaving a car at one end and using the train to get back to it, but the more I looked at the train times the more it made sense just to use the train for the full round. Thus I ended up travelling from Aberdeen to Blair Atholl via Perth on Friday, walking across the hills to Aviemore, and then caught the train back to Aberdeen via Inverness on Sunday evening. It did mean that I got home just before midnight on Sunday but luckily the buzz from the trip got me through an early start at work on the Monday morning!

The route

My route can be viewed here or by using the interactive features of the embedded map below.

From Blair Atholl I went up Glen Tilt to the Munro of Carn a’ Chlamain. I then went west and camped near the summit of the Corbett Beinn Mheadhonach. The next day I continued west to the second Munro of Beinn Dearg and then turned north to the Corbett Beinn Bhreac. From here I followed the boundary line along a series of rounded hills to the Tarf Munros, Carn an Fhidleir and An Sgarsach, before dropping down to camp by the river Feshie on Saturday evening. On the Sunday I followed the river Eidart up onto the western Cairngorm plateau, went over the Munro Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair and then headed north across the Great Moss to the sixth and final Munro of Sgor Gaoith. I then followed the hills on the west side of Glen Einich before dropping down into the Rothiemurchas Forest, following various tracks past Loch an Eilein, and finally making it to Aviemore and the station there. The total distance was just over 52 miles and my GPS recorded around 11,000 feet of vertical ascent. I was on the move for a total of a little under 24 hours.

The report

The photo highlights

The gear

It was all the usual stuff this time around, with perhaps one notable exception. After my POE Peak Elite AC deflated continually during the night on my last trip in February, I contacted customer services to see about that lifetime guarantee of theirs. Unfortunately, despite a few follow up e-mails I haven’t heard anything from them yet. Not wanting to take my bulky Prolite, I ended up ordering an Exped Synmat UL 7 from Ultralight Outdoor Gear which was delivered very speedily and in time to take on the trip. I used this both nights and it was a revelation. I actually found the POE very comfy, and my only complaint really was the mummy outline which meant it was easy for my sleeping-bag-entombed legs to slide sideways off the mat in the night. The rectangular outline of the Synmat largely overcomes this problem and overall I found the mat extremely comfortable (for both back and side sleeping) and warm (though the conditions weren’t anything particularly testing). The advertised weight of 460g was spot on so it is a little heavier and takes up slightly more room in the pack than the POE. To be honest though, the benefits of comfort and additional width actually make up for this. I just hope it turns out to be more durable than the short-lived POE.

After suffering from slow, inefficient boil times with my meths stove last time (due to snowmelt and low river temperatures) I went back to gas for this trip and happily got back into having boiling hot water for drinks and meals within a couple of minutes rather than twenty. This is really a convenience thing more than anything but I’ll definitely be using meths again in the future as I love the quiet simplicity of the Caldera Cone.

It should be noted that I was lucky in that for late March, at Munro height, I didn’t need any winter kit and in fact came across very little residual snow. This same weekend a year ago my girlfriend and I almost got snowed in whilst spending a weekend in Killin!

In terms of weight for the trip, my base weight came in at around 6.6kg. I took a lot of food which brought up the total pack weight (also including fuel (60g) and water (500g) to 8.7kg. Once my worn clothes and poles were added in I ended up with a total skin-out weight of 10.9kg. You can view my kit list by viewing or downloading this PDF file.

Now, head on to the Part 1 of the trip!

Part one of this trip can be read here.

The clear skies continued into the morning which unfortunately somewhat muted the sunrise. By the time I got up at around 8am the sky was blue but a dense fog was clinging to all the surrounding summits. In particular I could see that Ben Avon was shrouded in it above about 800m. There was a chill to the air and it would be a bit longer before the sun broke through to my camping spot so I warmed up by getting all my gear sorted and packed up. The tent fly was drenched with dew but there was no sign of ice or even frost: a very mild night for February in the Highlands.

I refilled my water bottle from the river, dropped in a hydration tablet and then headed off. The dense hillfog had put me off making the ascent of Ben Avon so instead I followed my outward track from the day before, heading back through a sleepy Glen Gairn towards Loch Builg. It was delightful once the sun broke above the southern hills and I soon was back down to just baselayer and unzipped jacket. I munched on a cereal bar as I ambled along.

As I approached Loch Builg I took a shortcut across boggy ground to cut out a loop of the vehicle track. I had planned to stop and have a proper breakfast at the Lodge but there was a hint of rain coming off the hills now so instead I pressed on, following the track along the loch edge until I reached the point where I had joined it the previous evening.

It was now new territory and with rainbows dancing across the loch I dropped down through narrow Glen Builg until I emerged into the wider part of the glen close to the grand house at Inchrory and the meeting with the Avon which comes along from the northern side of the range.

Here I stopped to have brunch, using my stove to heat water for coffee and eating some more provisions. Again, taking water from the cold stream meant it was quite a wait for my brew but I was in no rush and chilled out beside the river for a good twenty-five minutes.

The energy and caffeine boost proved quite restorative and with the sun shining down I headed along, passing Inchrory where I had a brief chat with three chaps on mountain bikes who were heading up the Avon to have lunch at Findoran bothy. I bid them good speed, passed through the gates and was soon ascending the track above the house, now on the track which would take me back to the car at Corgarff.

At a point on the hillside I made my final decision of the trip: with good weather I turned aside and rather than following the easy track back to the car, I took to the heathery hillside intent on following the broad line of tops around to Carn Ealasaid which I had seen from Brown Cow Hill the day before.

It was a tough first ascent through thick heather but once I came out onto the rolling ridge it was better. A new fence took something away from the big views and sadly the terrain remained quite waterlogged, but the views all around were excellent. Behind me I could now see just how cloud-covered Ben Avon was – the cloud spilling into its northern corries. Further back a constant stream of showers seemed to be moving down Glen Gairn, validating my early start.

After the first top the ridge turned and I dropped quickly down to a col. Here I had to cross the fence and it was only now I found out it was electrified. Luckily they have at least provided proper crossing points. Once at the other side I made quick progress up to the trig point on the summit of Craig Veann.

I took a breather here as the uphill had been a tough stretch, drank some water and ate some chocolate. I now had a view along the ridge across the intermediary top of Tolm Buirich to the summit Carn Ealasaid, starting to look a little closer.

There were more peat hags to be negotiated but after stopping briefly at Tolm Buirich to admire the view north to Ben Rinnes and across to Gael Charn (which I had been up in November) I was on the final, firmer stretch up to the summit of Carn Ealasaid.

After crossing another fence (this time low and unelectrified) I picked up a faint path which took me upwards and quite suddenly I was on the broad summit plateau. The small cairn marking the summit was very close by, set just off a vehicle track. I gratefully slung down my pack and had a sit down. The wind was starting to get quite fierce but I managed to have some lunch, take a few snaps and send off a text to my girlfriend before I headed off.

Descending from Carn Ealasaid is a simply matter of following the vehicle track. At times faint paths cut off wide loops and in good time the castle of Corgarff and my car came into view. Unfortunately the river Don doesn’t have any bridge crossings until the main road so after descending past the mysterious cairns and picking up another track near the cottages at xx I strode on down to the main road at the Allargue Arms. I was strongly tempted to pop in for a pint but the car was close by and I wanted to get home so I marched on, down the road and then back along the river a short way to reach the parking spot.

All in it had been a great trip. I was a little disappointed not to have got up on to the plateau of Ben Avon or to have explored some more of its tors (I was last up there in May 2008), but the views of low cloud on Sunday validated my choice and the second Corbett – including a less visited ridge – made up for it. Besides the problems pitching the tent and then heating snow-melted stream water everything went smoothly and I am especially pleased to have got my three season gear out in February! Now the first trip of the year is done I’m going to move towards more ambitious routes with the aim of doing my first multi-night trip in the next few weeks.

Saturday 25th February – Corgarff castle to River Gairn wild camp
Distance: 23km
Time: 6 hours
Ascent: 800m
Hills: Brown Cow Hill (Corbett, 829m), Meikle Gael Charn (Corbett Top, 802m)
Route: Click to view

Saturday dawned bright and chilly in Aberdeen. Though the preceding few days had been mild to the point where I had dropped down to just a windshirt for the walk to work, the weekend forecast was a little less promising. In particular MWIS was predicting very strong winds (gusts to 80mph) for Sunday afternoon. With this in mind I came up with a plan that gave me an opportunity to head up onto the plateau of Ben Avon, most eastern of the big Cairngorm hills, on Sunday morning in the hope of catching a break in the weather. To get there I would camp in Glen Gairn, to the south of a winding route that takes you up onto the plateau. Another consideration was the sky show promised for Saturday evening with the Moon, Venus and Jupiter all in close proximity in the west after sunset.

After a pleasant drive out through Alford and Strathdon I pulled up at the car park for Corgarff castle just on eleven in the morning. The bright weather had remained with me and I booted up under blue skies. There was a breeze but down in the valley it was pleasant though I decided to take my winter jacket with me rather than the Vapour Rise. A couple of walkers who had overtaken me on the road near Strathdon were off up in the distance and I followed them, skirting past the castle and dropping down to pick up a vehicle track which winds up on the west bank of the Cock Burn. I soon passed the couple (how come people who drive so quickly, walk so slowly?) as the path turned to reach the boggy bealach between Carn Oighreag and Brown Cow Hill.

Behind me the views opened out across the winding line of the Don to the hills that lie to the west of the Lecht road. Occasionally I disturbed a grouse which would careen off across the heather, chuckling away to itself. As I climbed higher thankfully the thick heather become shorter and springier and I started to pick up my pace. That was of course until I reached the peat hags which guard the eastern end of Brown Cow Hill.

The hags were somewhat tortuous to navigate, as all such things are, but eventually I wended and bobbed my way through them, climbing the final short way to the eastern end of the heathery plateau. The OS mark this tiny cairn as Brown Cow Hill but it is clear that the next lump along is the high point of the hill and so I made for this. The wind up here was brisk and I was soon wrapped up in my buff and hood. The going though was largely good with only a short section of springy moss and bog and soon enough I was on the summit of this lumpy Corbett for a grand height of 829m.

In the clear light of early afternoon the expansive views were fantastic. Ahead of me Ben Avon and its tors caught my eye, snow clinging on in large patches. To the south Lochnagar was shrouded in dark, stormy looking clouds. East the distinctive shape of Morven could be seen above the smaller hills that surround it with the Hill of Fare, near Aberdeen, a long green line to its south. To the north Carn Ealasaid stood at the end of the long, sinuous ridge that was to become my target for tomorrow.

I paused here for some lunch, munching on oatcakes, cheese and salami whilst watching the light change over the Deeside Hills. The wind was certainly blustery and there isn’t a great deal of shelter on Brown Cow Hill. Smoke billowed up from some burning heather towards Crathie and heavier showers were passing in front of the Glenshee hills.

From the summit I continued heading west, crossing the final lumpy summit at the west end of Brown Cow Hill before dropping a short way to the bealach and then climbing up to the rocky top of Meikle Gael Charn. Here the showers which had been bothering other hills finally caught up with me. Luckily I did get a few fleeting views down Glen Gairn and Loch Builg and across to Ben Avon before I tucked the camera away into a waterproof bag and started to drop down to the loch.

The ground is rough and uneven but the slope gentle enough and only a light rain was falling. Beyond it a watery sun shone through the clouds and so once I was down at the loch I stopped off to have a breather besides its peaty water.

Now all I had to do was push on to where I wanted to camp for the night, further west along Glen Gairn. I followed the path along to the end of the loch and then joined a series of landrover tracks which circumenvented the marshier ground near the smaller lochans and pools. Eventually I picked up the stalkers path which climbs up above Glen Gairn and followed this, getting my first close up view of the River Gairn itself.

The glen is wide and relatively fertile, strips of tussocky grass separated by wide swathes of heather. The stalker’s path is excellent and I made good progress despite the more persistent rain. Eventually it let up and I started to dry out. This process was speeded up once I turned a corner of the glen and came into the face of a strong westerly wind. It didn’t seem too bad so I continued on, making for a spot where I would be in a good position to climb Ben Avon the next day.

As I approached the narrowing in the glen I saw a good sward of grass and went over to investigate. It was good: flat, grassy and close to the river. Unfortunately it was not to be. I spent a good while trying to get the tent up but each time it was almost erect a ferocious gust would blow through the valley and tear all the anchors out. I struggled to keep hold of the tent as it billowed sail-like in the wind. The tent was buckling, even with crossover poles on and it seemed that the wind was strengthening as evening approached.

Eventually I saw sense and packed everything back up, returned to the path and backtracked about a kilometre or so to a point where the river bent closer to the track and came into the shelter of a small shoulder of hillside. It was just enough to deflect the wind and although there was a breeze it was much, much better than the first site. I dropped to the river and though the ground was a bit boggier I found a Scarp sized area of dry ground. The tent went up easily this time though and soon I had everything unpacked and sorted.

In the gathering twilight I set to brewing some water for a meal and drink. I had brought along my Caldera Cone but in hindsight meths was perhaps a poor choice for this trip. The breeze made it difficult to light and the low water temperature (a lot of snow melt I’m guessing) meant it took a long time and quite a bit of fuel to boil sufficient water for food and drink. Eventually though and with darkness falling I got into my tent and enjoyed rehydrated fish and potatoes (my finally pack from Expedition Foods) followed by a caramel latte and some dark chocolate.

Although dusk had come with increasing cloud, by around 8pm the sky was much clearer. I had been reading in my tent but now with the stars out, I got out to have a look around. In fact, the sky was incredible. In the cloudy west there was a hazy view of the moon and Venus, whilst to the south Orion strode across the sky, the stars blazing white and orangey red. Throughout the evening I kept on reading but with half an eye on the tent door, watching the stately progress of the stars. By half past ten the Moon had set, leaving a beautifully dark sky. Thousands of stars lit the cosmic dome and the Milky Way arced directly above me. I dragged out my mat and sleeping bag and lay, cosy and warm, looking up into the wonders of the northern sky.