Because of the wide variation in weather conditions,  in this region, the ”character” of this peaceful tranquil scene can quickly be transformed,  into one of the bleakest, stormy, landscapes in Scotland.

Blackrock Cottage

She is a freelance photographer and got into self publishing with a terrific book of her finest images of Skye , Northern Light. Landscapes of the Isle of Skye published using the Blurb service.

Check out her website photosecosse.com

Anyway careful not to infringe copyright here is one of Mhairi’s.

River to the Moutain - Buachaille Etive Mor
© Mhairi Morrison 2011

©Mhairi Carroll - Bike at Glencoe Mountain

One of the things I love about Flikr is that when I need inspiration I find it there. I just came across this new young photographer Craig Usher. He is into night-time photography in a big way and prefers to go out in the dark (easier in the winter months) and get stunning shots like this one of the Buachaille Etive Mor.

Another beauty of the same mountain (clearly a favourite of his as it is ours) is this one with star trails and the moon. Capturing the moon at night like this is never easy as it quickly just burns a huge disk into your shot given the time you need to expose the rest of the image for.

He has a superb set of images on Glencoe. I would also recommend checking out his website, where he has some for sale.

Any time I see fabulous images and photographers websites that I think will inspire others as they have me I will bring them to you here.

http://photo.visitscotland.com/index.php/galleries/gallery/660801

There are a few more by Mhairi in the competition. You can vote on all the images through a facebook like button at the bottom of each.

I like these competitions as they allow lots of people to express themselves by submitting images that mean something to them. I am also happy to share images with Visit Scotland who are helping Scotland’s economy by promoting the fantastic tourist offer we have. If people or the judges vote for ours or your and Visit Scotland get a few more great images to promote what a wonderful country this is to visit (and to live in) then all to the good.

Would love to hear if you have submitted images to this or want to draw our attention to other competitions where images of Scotland are being sought.

Heading up into the mist

Saturday 14th Jan
So on reaching the Buachaille at midday day with Iain, it so happens that our original plan had been to deviate and to head up North Buttress IV, 4 ***. This idea was squashed however due to a lack of any of the white stuff so the old reliable dear friend of Curved Ridge was back on the cards.

Conditions were damp and misty with clear visibility low down but only around 25m of visibility on the top. The weather was dry enough to walk up in my new Rab Photon jacket (love it) and new Rab waterproof trousers – a pair of soft-shell trousers would have been sufficient but I didn’t have the heart to dig them out of the boot. I had new waterproofs to try anyhow!

We set off about quarter to one and headed up the well worn path to the base of the route. Due to the mist I wasn’t wholly convinced I’d found the base of the route but opted to start climbing as the only way was up! Iain had never been up Curved Ridge so I was leading the way. Luck or instinct meant we were in fact on the right path. I’d found my ‘little wall of rock’ which served as my mental marker, engrained in my mind from previous outings.

Heading up the final section

The state of the rock on the route was dusted in a light covering of powder snow with the odd minute patch of ice on the bigger ledges. The rock was cold on the fingers. We only saw one other pair of climbers and let them pass at the corner section. Conditions overall were good, chilly but no wind and alas no view. Reaching the snow slope we stuck on the crampons and walked up on firm snow to Crowberry Tower Gap. On reaching the top we took a couple of pics of the fantastically ice covered rock and then headed back down via the gully.

The sun slowly setting with each step we took. On reaching the bottom we were pleased with ourselves for getting down just before dark. Only needing our head torches to pack the car.

At the bottom we compared notes with a pair of climbers who had been on Anoach Mor that day and who were planning to head up the Buachaille the next day. They spoke of White Shark IV, 4 *** being in condition, with a nice hole already cut in the cornice. We were psyched!

Setting off to our accommodation for the weekend we’d had a great warm up day – which for me was great as I had some new kit to try out before we hit Big Ben the following day…

Beautiful...

One  woman who went said that climbing Buachaille Etive Mor was the best day of walking she’d ever had in Scotland. And I have to agree.

We stayed at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel and Bunkhouse. I’d highly recommend both. The food at the restaurant is excellent and staff very helpful. Perfect place to stay and there is so much to do nearby.

Here for your delectation a few pictures of a glorious weekend.

Arriving at Ben Nevis

On the way up. The path zig zags the mountain so for the most part it’s a gentle ascent.

But there are some steeper sections.

Incredible views on the way up.

Snow near the summit

A few of us on the summit of Ben Nevis. It took us 3 hours to reach the summit at a relaxed pace. Great feeling!

The summit looks busier than Fort William on a beautiful day like this.

The boys in pants doing their thang!

Beautiful views as we begin our descent

Arriving at Buachaille Etive Mor

Victoria and Robin flying as they approach the summit

Feeling ecstatic on the summit! The Buachaille is a steep munro. More interesting and challenging than Ben Nevis. I loved it.

Amazing views…

The descent was the difficult part, Buachaille’s steep and rocky. Here on hands, and bums we negotiate a particularly tricky section. You can just make us out in the middle of the photo below.

Our next weekend is in Speyside in September. This time it’s a mix of hillwalking, cycling and sightseeing. You choose how much or how little you do. Last year’s trip to Glen Clova in September was lovely, with brilliant weather.

To find out more about Speyside in September visit our Speyside weekend webpage.

You can find out more about the the Sunday Brunch Club Walking Group here.

What are your favourite walks in Scotland?

Buachaille Etive Mor from Rannoch Moor

The A82 road from Tyndrum to Glencoe must rank as one of the most scenic and dramatic drives in Britain.  Amongst all this drama, Buachaille Etive Mor stands head and shoulders above the surrounding hills, a mountain amongst mountains.  It is almost always associated with Glencoe, though to be correct the mountain belongs to Rannoch Moor or Glen Etive – the name means “The Big Herdsman of Etive”.

The northeast face of Buachaille Etive Mor

The northeast side is the real head-turner, with what appears to be an almost impenetrable barrier of steep rock walls and deep gullies.  There are ways through the maze of rock, but most of these ways are the preserve of the rock climber.  There is, however, an exciting, elegant and not too difficult route through the defences of the northeast face – Curved Ridge.  The ridge is classed as an easy rock climb or a hard scramble, depending on which guidebook you are reading.  Because of this it sits on the fence somewhat.

Scrambling up to the start point.

The team for the trip was a couple of old mates, Ian Rogers and Mark Bradley.  Curved Ridge is also another old mate, and I had done the route three times previously.  We had set out early to drive to Glencoe from Ian’s place near Carlisle, and on arrival found “The Buachaille” far from inspiring.

The day was grey and dismal, but there are few things in life that can’t be improved by adding a bacon ‘sarnie’. So the plan was, drive on down to Glencoe village, investigate the bacon, and then head on back to the mountain.    The plan was a total success, though we had to endure a swarm of midges that had set up shop right next to the bacon butty van.

Mark below the slabby rock wall at the start of the route

When we returned to the mountain, the day had brightened up enough to make it worth while getting our boots on. Leaving the car at Altnafeadh we set off on the path past the white cottage at Lagangarbh, at first heading for Coire na Tulaich, which was to be our descent route.  We then peeled off to traverse under the brooding northeast face before we started heading upwards on the eroded path next to the rock feature known as “The Waterslab”.  Some easy rock scrambling brought us to a slabby rock wall that marks the start of the route.

The author leading the second rock pitch

One way to tackle the slabby wall is by the thin  groove on the right.  However, there’s a neat way to by-pass that to save time, which is exactly what we did, passing the remains of a dead deer on the way.

After that the route wanders back and forth, with no route finding problems – on a ridge like this you just carry on up! After a while the route becomes a little steeper, and a rope becomes a sensible insurance policy.  There are only a couple of short rock pitches, but a fall from one of them would be terminal.  As it was a wet day, and I had a heavier than usual rucksack, it didn’t take long for me to suggest roping up.

Ian at the top of the second rock step

The weather continued to be fickle as we sorted out the rope and continued upwards.  On a warm sunny day this section is simple enough, and the route is considered to be either a Grade 3 (s) scramble or a moderate rock climb – I’ve soloed this section when I was younger, but age makes caution (or perhaps in this case cowardice) an honourable option.

On top of that, the rock was cold and wet, with the visibility constantly changing from clear to misty.  I belayed at the top of the pitch and was rapidly joined by Mark and Ian.   Then, just as the route was gaining interest we arrived at the top of the difficulties.  As the bacon sarnie was just a memory by then, it seemed a good place for a late lunch and a coffee.

A good way to finish Curved Ridge is to continue over to Crowberry Tower and to climb that, but ‘iffy’ visibility made the gully behind the tower an easier route finding option.  From there a bit more easy rock scrambling took us to the summit, and a rapidly clearing sky – typical!  From the summit the route to the top of Coire na Tulaich was easy enough to find.

Heading from the summit to the descent route down Coire na Tulaich

Coire na Tulaich is the easiest way off “The Buachaille”, leading straight back to the start point at Altnafeadh.  It’s a place to exercise care though, as it’s steep and eroded in places.  In winter it requires much more caution and judgement – there have been several avalanche accidents here in recent years, some of them fatal.  No snow today though, and it didn’t seem all that long before we were back in the car heading back to Carlisle.

The top of the descent route down Coire na Tulaich

Text and images © Paul Shorrock

I do have one of the ‘classic’ Buachaille Etive Mòr shots somewhere, in fact, I have a print of it hanging on my wall, but here’s a different take from a couple of winters ago. Shot with My 70-200mm from the layby at Altnafeadh. Buachaille Etive Mòr is Gaelic for ‘big triangular bastard’ BTW.

Ever since I saw it about ten years ago, I’ve wanted to go up a mountain called Buachaille Etive Mor (pronounced ‘buwcle’ apparently). It’s a beautiful looking mountain, almost a perfect triangle in shape. It’s in Glen Coe which is a beautiful place. Me and my sister have decided we’re doing it on Friday 29th April. We’re going to drive from Manchester to Fort William on Thursday and stay until Monday. On the day after we go up Buachaille Etive Mor we’ll probably do a more gentle (flat) walk and have a look round a village or two, then on the Sunday we want to try another mountain. It seems silly to be so close to Fort William and not go up Ben Nevis, so at the moment that’s what we’re thinking of doing.

I can’t wait. I really need to get out and breathe some fresh air, and last time I was in Scotland (when I did the Caledonian Challenge, and walked past Ben Nevis and Buachaille Etive Mor) I really loved it, and I’m glad to have a plan in place. Each of the mountain walks (but not the flat one in the middle) will also count towards the days I need to clock up before I do my mountain leader training.

I wish I could put a photo of the lovely mountain here but I don’t own one and don’t want to steal one from someone else on the internet, so here’s a link to an outdoor gear website – the photo at the top is of Buachaille Etive Mor:

buachaille.com

Ever since I started getting back into walking a couple of years ago, I’d been reading a lot of personal blogs and websites and have generally been doing a bit of armchair travelling. Out of all the long-distance walks I’d read about, the West Highland Way had been high on my priority list. And out of all the walks in the world, Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse had become my dream walk. This was going to be the big one, the Great Crossing of Rannoch Moor, ending with staying overnight at the hotel. I thought it was something that wouldn’t happen until way into the future, and yet here I was, about to fulfil a big ambition.

I woke up fairly early in the bunkhouse and was dismayed to hear the rain. It had been forecast to rain anyway, but for some reason it made me feel uneasy. I was a bit nervous about crossing a moor and getting stuck somewhere in the middle. There had originally been a forecast for thunderstorms, although you really can never trust the weather forecast in this part of the country. There’s an old Scottish saying that goes something like “If you don’t like the weather, wait ten minutes and it’ll change”.

I was just going into the hotel for breakfast when I met Steve, a Scottish guy who was walking the West Highland Way for the fifteenth time. He said it was his favourite walk in Scotland and he just kept returning again and again. We walked together for the rest of the day, and he obviously knew the route.

We made our way up the hill in the rain. I still felt tired and I very nearly dropped out and turned back. There were great views from the top though, and less than an hour later we were already descending towards Inveroran.

We went into the Inveroran Hotel for a drink. It seemed very crowded, full of groups of people who were about to walk across Rannoch Moor and there seemed to be a great excitement surrounding the plan for the day. This included a couple of guys I’d met the night before who were wild camping. As soon as we got moving outside, the midges were swarming around us everywhere. I sprayed Skin So Soft at them and all over myself, but it was one of those days where even that wasn’t going to work. Midges gather where there’s sweat, and I already had an array of bites across my lower back. It had stopped raining and the sun was getting hot again.

Off we continued up the road, eventually reaching Forest Lodge.

It was time for the vast expanse of Rannoch Moor. After leaving Inveroran, the weather was perfect. Steve said that out of all the times he’d walked the West Highland Way, this was the only time he’d ever walked across Rannoch Moor when it hadn’t rained, and he said he felt absolutely blessed. He’d walked it in all weathers, even in the snow when a map and compass was necessary to try to stay on the path.

We walked for several hours through the most incredible scenery I’ve ever been through. There really are no words to describe it, and no photos that could capture the feeling of being in the middle of it all, of being surrounded by such beauty from all angles. My humble phone camera in particular could never do it justice, but even if you filmed it you could still never capture the feeling of actually standing there, standing in the middle of it all and almost becoming part of the scenery yourself. It was truly awesome.

The only downside of the day was the sheer number of midges. Midges, midges, midges everywhere. I would’ve loved to have stopped at Ba Bridge for a picnic, but every time we stopped for more than twenty seconds the midges would swarm around us, fly in our faces and generally made a nuisance of themselves. Midges tend to get put off by rain and wind. See what a problem perfect weather can be?!

After the highest point of the path, the slow descent towards Kingshouse was slightly hard on the knees and ankles because the path was quite hard and gravelly. It really didn’t matter though, because the scenery was so beautiful. It was a day of pure perfection, apart from those irritating little insects.

Near the end of the descent we stopped to speak to a group of ladies who were going the same way as us but had stopped for a rest. I finally managed to eat some food without it getting full of midges.

Getting further along, what do you expect to see near the edge of a moor? Why, this, of course:

This was followed shortly afterwards by a sign advertising Glencoe Mountain Resort, complete with a cafe 200 metres away that’s open 9am – 5pm and has ski lifts. Later on in the hotel we met the ladies again and they said they’d been up in the ski lift and the view from the top was amazing.

We continued further on to Blackrock Cottage, possibly one of the most photographed cottages in Scotland. It really is a lovely building, and I’m really pleased with how this photo turned out considering my lack of photography skills and lack of proper camera.

Just as I have always wanted to walk across Rannoch Moor, Steve pointed out the nearby mountain that he’s always wanted to walk up, Buachaille Etive Mor. I hope he gets to do so one day. It is a slightly different colour from the other mountains and does seem to stand out.

Finally we started the approach to the Kingshouse Hotel.

Okay, I’m going to put this bit here since it’s something I’ve been wondering about and I found very little information online, so hopefully this will help someone. Basically, the Kingshouse Hotel is not 100% alone. If you look on an Ordnance Survey map, there are three or four other buildings marked. I had always wondered what these buildings were. It turns out that they are private houses. I have no idea who lives there or if they are connected with the hotel, however one of the houses is called either Tigh Na Coille or Tigh Na Choille. This website suggests that it’s a B&B, as does Mark Moxon’s accommodation page from when he walked from Land’s End to John O’Groats. I did speak to someone that day who tried phoning them but couldn’t get an answer, but this information may be worth looking into for anyone needing alternative accommodation near Kingshouse. If anyone happens to be reading this who has any more information, please feel free to leave a comment.

Anyway, we finally arrived!

Steve went over to the river to pitch his tent and came back for a drink later on. I went to check in at the hotel, and I felt like the luckiest person ever to have got a room. I’d met several people who hadn’t booked in advance and were disappointed. They’d run out of single rooms so I had to pay extra for a double room, but it was absolutely worth it because I’ve wanted to stay in this hotel for years. It’s a wonderful place, and you really do get the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere. All you can see from the windows are mountains, and deer which come right up to the window and aren’t scared of humans.

The only downside of the evening was the ongoing midge invasion. According to the hotel staff, it had been going on for three days. I went outside to say hi to people I recognised who were just arriving, and the midges were literally flying right into people’s faces. I saw a succession of people walking towards the hotel who were constantly wiping their faces and waving their arms in the air, trying to get rid of the things. I felt a bit sorry for the people who were camping.

The hotel itself is lovely, and has a comfortable lounge with huge windows which act as picture frames. I wish I’d booked for two nights and spent a rest day there, in fact one day I’d like to come back here, stay for about a week and spend days on end just staring at the scenery. Talking of which, the scenery is constantly changing and moving. The clouds never stay still, changing the shadows and changing the colour of the mountains.

The food in the bar is excellent and I sat with a group of various people who I’d met at different points over the last couple of days. There’s a great pasta dish which is perfect for hungry walkers, and the desserts are wonderful and comforting. I’ve certainly been consuming a lot of calories this week. I’ve been eating huge meals that I would usually struggle to finish.

When it was time to go to bed, the view from my window was so amazing that I slept with the curtains open.

The lifespan of a midge is a very short one. When I woke up in the morning, there were about a hundred dead ones on my windowsill.

Fracture Route, VS 4c and Crowberry Ridge, Severe on Buachaille Etive Mor – Glencoe

The Gutter, Diff on Pine Wall – Glen Nevis

To book on one of our rock climbing courses click here.

www.nineonesix.co.uk

High drama on the hills

Stob Dearg - Buachaille Etive Mor

Like many British mountaineers I have ambitions that will require trips to foreign climes. Unfortunately for me there is a stumbling block; I’m afraid of flying and a long road trip to the Alps doesn’t really hold much appeal. So with that in mind I’ll be staying on UK soil until I can vanquish my qualms.

This of course is no hardship. Enjoying the romance of the Lakeland fells, maintaining my love affair with Cymru and jaunts north of the border keep me busy enough, and apart from our hit and miss winter conditions I am left wanting for nothing. I am a very lucky man to have been born and raised in a land that enslaves my heart, so for now the mighty snow peaks of Europe must wait. Likewise my first taste of air travel…or so I had thought.

Juggs takes a break beneath the Douglas Boulder - The North Face of Ben Nevis

For weeks I had been counting the days until my latest communion with the ancient rock fortresses of Alba. Imagine our disappointment when Juggs, Nobz and I found ourselves at the foot of the Douglas Boulder in torrential rain. We had come a long way to climb Tower Ridge on the North Face of Ben Nevis and a pessimistic weather forecast wasn’t going to stop us. At least that was our collective assertion the previous evening when, fuelled by liquid midge repellent we had vowed that “Come what may, we’ll bag the bastard”. In the cold light of day however, we peered up at a huge streaming castle rising into a vaporous veil of clammy clag. We looked at each other in silence and then turned to the sodden rock before frowns confirmed a wordless consensus; “Carn Mor Dearg arête it is then”.

Juggs and Nobz on the Carn Mor Dearg Arete

Back at the Manse Barn, clouds of steam issued forth as wet layers of Gore Tex and polypropylene were peeled away from wrinkled skin. Clad in just our underpants and thus stripped of any pretension a lengthy cogitation ensued. With the knowledge that the morrow would bring similar conditions we concurred that the requirement was for a route that would ‘go’ in the wet but still deliver a satisfying outing without being technically demanding. After tossing around a few ideas we plumped for Curved Ridge, the classic grade 2/3 scramble on Stob Dearg, the eastern outpost of Buachaille Etive Mor.

With our plans settled, I was then free to pay some attention to my bottle of Glenmorangie which had been calling “Come hither” throughout our discourse. A nice drop indeed and a welcome change from my usual tipple ‘Trampagne’, which would have been most incongruous in our highland setting. I did pity my companion’s choice of refreshment, The Famous Grouse and Tennents lager respectively. But was I going to share my malt? At £30 a bottle I most certainly was not; a decision I would regret come the morning.

Hangover notwithstanding, dawn brought a smile to my face; the rain had abated and the tops were free of cloud. Perfect. This unexpected turn in the weather had inspired my spirit to soar higher than the mountains that surrounded us. “Hear me now, thou beef-whitted codpiece sniffers, the time is upon us for high adventure on yonder precipice”. To this there was some protestation, “I’m going nowhere until my belly is full of black pudding and square sausages” declared a ravenous Juggs. Food? FOOD? I was aghast at such talk. “Think not of food thou swag-bellied baggage, feed the soul and the stomach will surely follow”. My appeal fell on deaf ears, and try as I might I failed to rally the troops into action before their lust for offal was satiated. A nauseating display and I don’t mean maybe.

Where we went wrong

In due course and not before time we were treading the stony track past Lagangarbh, and soon we were beneath the complex arrangement of gullies, ribs and buttresses that make up Stob Dearg’s impressive façade. It was then that the weather pattern was set for the next few hours. A brief cloudburst left the wet crags gleaming like silver in the morning sun and the air fresh and clean. Before long we had reached the Waterslide Slab, a key landmark in order for us to find the start of our route and our cue to start ascending.

Nobz on the lower section of Curved Ridge (read D Gully Buttress)

I checked the guidebook and was pretty sure that our way lay up the obvious ridge to the left of a small gully, Juggs was in agreement and we made our way to its foot. Beautiful scrambling took us upwards at a rapid rate and soon the feeling of air beneath our boots intoxicated us, we were alive again. After a couple of hundred feet we encountered a slimy wall barring the entry to a chimney. Juggs made an inspection but didn’t fancy it and traversed airily out to the left, finding a route to the chimney, up which he quickly disappeared.

I was then joined by Nobz who had been labouring under the weight of the rope in his sack. We discussed how we would tackle the next section as neither of us liked the look of Jamie’s traverse line. It was exposed and unprotectable so we decided to rope up and climb the wall and chimney as a conventional rock pitch. Nobz led the wall and although a ‘one move wonder’ he was thankful of the two good nut placements he’d found. Then, he too scampered up the chimney and brought me up to a large and comfortable ‘smokers ledge’ where we could take in the view over Rannoch Moor, its many lochans and a distant Shiehallion.

Nobz enjoying the view over Rannoch Moor from the 'Smoker's Ledge'

Easier ground lay above, so we took chest coils and moved together up grotty grooves until we met with another wall, this one steeper and some 20 metres high. By this time Juggs had almost scaled the beast but had stopped climbing and was puzzling out the way ahead. “It’s bold” he called down, “You may want to pitch it”. “Too bloody right” I thought, “This doesn’t look like a grade 2 scramble to me”. After a moments thought, Juggs made the move and reached the top of the wall, hooting with relief, “It’s all there but it’s incredibly exposed”.

I was now becoming a little nervous so rather than hang about and fret I started to climb. There didn’t seem to be any protection and my resolve was waning. Up I went, then down again repeating the sequence until I conceded defeat. My head was going and I just hoped that Nobz was up to the challenge as there was no way Juggs could return and lead the pitch for us. “Things” I mused, “are getting a little too spicy for my liking”.

I explained to Nobz that I was having an off day so he took some gear from me and quickly climbed above my high point where he found an indifferent placement. Further up he found better gear and a move later he was standing below the crux that Juggs had found so thought provoking. I shouted encouragement from below but Nobz gave me a knowing look and I was glad that it was him up there and not me. Nobz groped around looking for good holds…there weren’t any and I, fearing an imminent fall started to pray in earnest. Nobz would have to make a leap of faith, get his feet high and hope for better holds above.

He steeled himself and went for it, struggling to remain in contact with the rock. His hands slapped in desperation, his feet scrabbled about in search of friction and then, with a muffled cry of resignation he fell. The following split seconds felt like eons as I watched him bounce off a ledge and invert before another ledge righted him. I was in sheer terror and was convinced that I was watching a dear friend fall to his death. And then I thought about the belay; it was shit and he would surely pull me off with him to oblivion. We were caught in the irreversible process of ruining our friends and families lives and I felt so sorry for what we were doing to them.

But then, with a jolt he stopped. The gear had held. I looked down at my hands on the dead rope, my knuckles white in their death grip on our slender lifeline. For a few moments there was silence, a much needed respite from the horrific scraping and thudding that had accompanied the fall. I then shouted up to Juggs, “Nobz has fallen, we’re going down. You carry on to the top and we’ll see you back at the car”.

To Nobz’ surprise he hadn’t broken anything in the fall and apart from some minor cuts he was fine and slowly down climbed as I held the rope tight. This was my last lucid act of the day as I felt myself descending into shock.

On joining me at the belay we realised just how lucky we had been. Just above Nobz’ stopper knot the rope was badly damaged; the core was broken and a frayed sheath was all that was keeping it in one piece. I felt like crying but couldn’t, I was numb. Nobz on the other hand was calm, in control and set about planning our escape, nonchalant and matter of fact in his delivery.

First he retied onto the rope above the damage and set about lowering me down the grooves. This took time as I was all but spent, his patience and encouragement paying dividends. At the bottom of the grooves I anchored myself to the rock and waited for him to arrive. An hour passed and still he hadn’t appeared. “What the fuck is going on up there” I bellowed, Nobz’ shouts were lost to the wind and I cursed myself for setting foot on this mountain. Then the rain came down in a tremendous and persistent deluge, soaking my tobacco and further adding to my misery. Soon I was getting cold and not long after that I started shivering uncontrollably. “Oh shit, hypothermia”, I was in the depths of despair and had taken to talking to myself for company.

Eventually Nobz came into view at the top of the first groove. He’d been battling with a jammed rope and was quite literally at the end of his tether. When at long last he escaped the groove I had long gone into myself and shaking more violently than ever. The ‘smoker’s ledge’ was just around the corner so using the last of my resolve I crawled around to it and we scouted around for anchors. “Bollocks, there’s nothing to abseil off”, Nobz was becoming despondent and we talked about our options knowing that we really only had one. Though unspoken, we knew that we were trapped and to consider down climbing would possibly see the situation spiralling out of control. It was now 5pm and we had spent three hours trying to extract ourselves from our situation. “That’s it” I snapped, “I’m going to call mountain rescue. I don’t want to but we’re fucked”. Nobz said nothing but the look he gave me reassured me that I was doing the right thing.

I made the call and the police operator told me that Juggs had already called them and they would be with us soon. It was then that we looked down to Lagangarbh and saw a team coming for us. “How could we have got into so much trouble on a grade two scramble”? It didn’t make sense and we were ashamed to have had to resort to such drastic action. Within minutes of making the call a distinctive rumbling was heard to be coming from Glen Etive, and then we saw its origins. “I don’t believe it Nobz, they’ve sent a bloody helicopter”, I was incredulous and not a little worried about what this meant; I hate flying, I don’t want to fly.

'Wiggy' on the way

The helicopter got closer and then the door opened. We waved at the crew and having made visual contact with us they swung away in a wide arc returning a minute or two later. Slowly, they sidled up to the side of the mountain. The noise was deafening and I shouted to Nobz, “Downdraft, get down”. Soon they were hovering directly above us and we clung the rock, I was anchored to a boulder but Nobz wasn’t and I feared he would be blown from the mountain. I also had grave fears that the rotor blades would make contact with the crag above and the consequences of such an occurrence.

Suddenly there was three of us on the ledge. We had been joined by Royal Navy SAR personnel and he tapped an oblivious Nobz on his helmet. He barked orders to untie and Nobz complied before our rescuer placed a large sling like harness over his head and under his arms. And then they were gone. When my turn came I was all fingers and thumbs and it took me too long to untie from the rope and anchor. I was being shouted at and I struggled to free myself until at last the rope fell from my waist. Up I went, not able to comprehend what was happening to me but amazed at how different the mountain looked from my improbable vantage point.

Nobz is plucked from the mountain

Before I knew what was happening I saw the footrest above me and a second later I was bundled into the helicopter, still shaking. I was strapped in and then threw my arm around Nobz’ shoulder. Our relief was all consuming and our heads swimming so much that we had failed to notice a girl with a TV camera to our right. “Channel 5” said winchman Marcus ‘Wiggy’ Wigful. “You’ve got to be joking”!

Safely aboard, we allow ourselves a relieved smile

A short time later we had landed at Lagangarbh and were ushered out of the helicopter to face our audience. A tearful Juggs gave me a massive hug and led me to the MRT vehicle where they offered us food and drink. We then learnt that we hadn’t been on Curved Ridge at all, but D Gully Buttress instead. It was explained to us that it is a common mistake and happens a lot. Also, the place where Nobz fell was called Hell’s Wall, a rock climb graded Severe.

Before the SAR left the scene the girl with the camera came to interview us and said that they were filming a new series about the Royal Navy SAR team and would we give permission for them to show our rescue? “Well” I said, “After all that I’d be annoyed if you didn’t”.

The author back at the Manse barn...happy to be alive but shocked and shaken

All in all it had been an incredible day and an experience I shall never forget. Our heartfelt thanks go out to Juggs for raising the alarm and most humbly to the RN SAR team and the Glencoe MRT who dealt with our situation with great skill and professionalism.  Be careful out there folks and please stick a bit of spare change into the MR collection boxes…next time it might be you that needs them!

© Crooked Hill

   #mce_temp_url#

Comme mon sixième sens me l’avait suggéré, les midges nous guettent bien avant le lever. Nous en connaissons les conséquences : pas de petit déjeuner, pliage de tente express, et départ anticipé afin d’échapper aux sales engeances. Du point de vue midgesesque, la journée sera d’ailleurs assez terrible : le temps, très couvert, maintient un degré de luminosité très bas jusqu’au début de l’après-midi. A chaque tentative de pause (pour le petit déjeuner donc, puis pour le plaisir), les moustiques ne tardent pas à flairer la bonne occase et fondent sur nous. A cause de cela, et portés par je ne sais quelle motivation, nous décidons de couvrir d’une traite l’étape du jour, et d’attendre l’arrivée à Kingshouse Hotel pour nous ravitailler. C’est facile, aujourd’hui : l’étape ne fait que seize kilomètres.

Le paysage est assez spectaculaire. Pas de hauts sommets (nous marchons en hauteur, de toutes façons), pas de forêts… juste de la lande, désertique, à perte de vue, noyée dans les nuages bas.

C’est à se demander si nous arriverons vraiment quelque part, et si nous arriverons secs ! Par chance, oui. Vers une heure, nous parvenons à notre but : Kingshouse hotel. Plus isolé que ça, tu meurs, tu es au milieu de nulle part (un peu comme dans Shining…), avec des montagnes de tous les côtés, une petite rivière, et une route pour y arriver, quand même. Il n’y a vraiment que ça, un hôtel, mais il apparait sur toutes les cartes, puisque c’est le seul lieu de vie à des kilomètres alentours.

Son plus gros avantage ? Être situé au pied de ma montagne préférée, Buachaille Etive Mor (ne me demandez pas comment ça se prononce, cette chose ; d’après mes recherches, un truc comme Bou-ah-choollie Etif mooor). Ecco :

Si vous regardez bien la photo, vous remarquerez qu’il fait BEAU ! L’occasion pour les pauvres campeurs que nous sommes (Car, oui, bien qu’il y ait hôtel, nous campons près de la rivière. C’est permis. Et c’est gratuit. Contrairement aux chambres qui coûtent un bras d’enfant, au moins. Et puis, l’hôtel a beau être coquet, procurer une nourriture délicieuse, des pintes à foison et être, ô comble du bonheur, muni d’un billard, ses propriétaires n’en sont pas moins de sales cons. Donc, pas d’hôtel. Sauf pour Max, qui a des goûts de luxe et ne supporte plus ses cheveux non shampouinés. Nous autres, les courageux attaquons notre seconde nuit d’affilée en camping sauvage. Ça commence à sentir le bouc dans la tente.) de faire sécher leur linge et d’aérer un peu le matériel.

C’est, je crois, notre plus joli lieu de campement de toute l’aventure :

Vue depuis ma tente !

La journée aurait été parfaite sans une invasion de midges dans la tente… Note pour plus tard : quand on s’arrête à l’entrée de sa tente, au moment de se coucher, pour regarder les biches qui gambadent près de tes affaires…

SI, ce sont des BICHES. On voit très bien leurs yeux.

… on se frotte bien partout avant de se coucher. Parce que les midges, ils se posent sournoisement sur tes vêtements, genre tu sens rien, et une fois sous la tente, BAM, il y en a 100 pour te faire ta fête. Vraiment. Technique de Mac Gyver pour en venir à bout :
- fume une cigarette pour enfumer et anesthésier les bêtes.
- allume ta lampe torche. Ils sont tellement bêtes et endormis qu’ils viennent contre elle.
- écrase-les massivement à la chaussure de rando.
- achève les survivants avec un truc en spray, genre ton spray pour la peau.
- prie pour ne pas toi-même mourir asphyxié pendant la nuit.

A ceux qui trouvent ces pratiques dégoûtantes et barbares, je répondrai ceci : essayez donc de dormir avec ne serait-ce que dix midges tournant autour de vous (imaginez donc mon horreur en voyant la centaine de trucs noirs qui volaient dans MON espace vital). Je vous mets au défi de tenir plus de dix minutes sans sortir en hurlant. Sérieusement.

]]> http://munromusings.wordpress.com/2008/08/19/buachaille-etive-mor/ Tue, 19 Aug 2008 20:59:28 +0000 papagenos http://munromusings.wordpress.com/2008/08/19/buachaille-etive-mor/

Buachaille Etive Mor (from Glen Etive)

This is a somewhat unusual approach to Buachaille Etive Mor, tackling the mountain from behind, starting just east of Dalness and the Lairig Gartain path. The downside of starting in Glen Etive, is that you will be welcomed by hordes of midges and their ferocious bite. So be prepared and bring suitable repellant. (…)

” Everyone stands beneath a mountain; some stand, some walk round, some take the first step.”
Written in 2008 by Steve Brown — Australia

 Though to be fair, this isn’t actually me, unfortunately.  I wish it was, but I didn’t bring along a photographer with me this time.  However, this IS the route we did this weekend so we can all pretend it’s me because honestly, how cool does that look?!

This past weekend was amazing and we had glorious sunny weather and NO RAIN so all of you with your happy thoughts, very well done!  My first foray into outdoor rock climbing was a resounding success and I had so much fun.  I did a few climbs that I never ever in a million years thought I’d be able to do, so that feeling of success has still been glowing within me for the past few days.  It was exhausting, my arms and legs are still sore and totally covered in bruises and scrapes.  But it was far and away the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done in my lifetime.

I thought we’d start out small, with shorter single-pitch walls, to ease me into the whole ‘climbing outdoors’ thing.  Except the beautiful sunny weather had a downside.  There was no wind, so there was nothing to blow the midges away.  Midges are these horrible biting gnats that fly around in huge swarms and basically attack you as soon as you stop moving.  It’s been three days and I’m still nursing midge bites.  We turned up to the lovely, short, EASY wall and the midges basically engulfed us all.  I had them in my ears, in my eyes, if I tried to breathe I was inhaling them.  It was the awful and the only way to get away from them was to keep moving.  Except that when you’re belaying, you’re sort of forced to stand in one place at the bottom of the crag, attached to a rope with your climbing partner at the other end.  You can’t move at all because the only thing keeping your partner from falling is you, keeping the rope tight.  But with the little blood-sucking fiends, we all made an executive decision to move elsewhere.  Of course, elsewhere meant out of the valley and up into the mountains.  To where the big, scary NOT EASY walls live.

It took us an hour and a half to hike in and once we got there, we headed to the bottom of the Weeping Wall.  The climbing was great and not too difficult for a total outdoor newbie like me.  Unfortunately, when we got to the top of this wall, The Fear got me.

Every rock climber is familiar with The Fear.  It’s something that every person I know has had to get past when they first start to climb.  Fear of heights (or more accurately, fear of falling) is one fear that is almost universal.  Almost everyone has it to some extent or another.  It takes time for climbers to learn to trust the equipment and to climb without being afraid of falling.  Yes, you might fall.  Everyone does at some point or another.  But you can get over the fear of falling if you trust your equipment and believe that even if you DO fall, you’re not going to be hurt.  I have absolutely no problem with The Fear in the indoor climbing wall, I trust my equipment and my climbing partners completely.  Outside though?  Well, 60 metres up is a LOT higher than I’d ever been before.  Not to mention, when we reached the top, we were standing on a ledge about eight inches wide, hanging off a sling wrapped around a big rock.  Our belay stance wasn’t even wide enough to stand on.  So there I was, hanging off the wall 60 metres up and all I could think was, ok, I’m ready to go DOWN.  NOW.

I was really afraid I wouldn’t be able to get past this.  I was dreading the following day, especially when our instructor told us we’d be going up to Buachaille Etive Mor.  This is a huge-ass mountain, the top of which is a Munro (hills over 3,000 feet).  It would take a pretty significant hike/scramble just to get up to the bottom of the wall, much less before we even started to climb.  Of course there was no way in hell I was going to say I was scared!

The next day, after a VERY hot climb up, we made it to the bottom of Rannoch Wall, where our climb, January Jigsaw, was awaiting us.  This one was even taller than the last.  I knew I’d be able to make it up part way, but this climb was three pitches long and the last one was 30 metres with some serious climbing.  It’s very exposed and very VERY high.  I made it up to the second belay stance, a larger ledge where I could sit and regroup.  I didn’t feel comfortable climbing first – I would have had to put the protection in, which would have meant climbing for long sections between clips.  If I’d fallen, there would have been a long fall before the ropes caught me, probably anywhere between 10-15 feet.  I was already too nervous, so the Boyfriend went up first with the instructor.  I sat there by myself, belaying out more and more rope and he got higher and higher and I started to get very nervous.  Finally the rope stopped and he called down that he was safe.  It was my turn to climb.  Still terrified, but I was determined not to let it get the best of me.  So I climbed.

The interesting thing was, that last 30 meter pitch was the most fun I had all weekend.  Once I started climbing, all the fear melted away.  THIS I knew how to do.  I was all alone on the rock, just me and the skills I’d been learning for the past year and a half.  I didn’t even notice the height or the exposure, or anything else except each move I had to make to get to the top.  There are a lot of things I can’t do –  dribble a basketball, throw a baseball, throw or catch ANYTHING really – but the one thing I can do is climb.  And it was the most amazing, thrilling, wonderful experience I’ve ever had, being able to do that on real rock, up a real mountain.  

This is Rannoch Wall, but unfortunately it’s a bit hard to see where we actually climbed.  This is January Jigsaw and we also did the first two pitches of Agag’s Groove.  Absolutely Awesome day.  I can’t recommend it enough.  If anyone has ever thought about rock climbing before, DO IT.  It’s a high I can’t even explain.  

Just a few more gratuitous shots of Glencoe because it’s just that beautiful.  And do you see that blue sky down there?!  That never happens here!

Victoria Bridge to Fort William

09:38 32.74 miles 6:00:47

Average 11:01 min/miles

I’d stayed at the Crazyboy household overnight to make travel easier in the morning. I dragged myself out of bed, and feeling a little tired after a later night than planned, got myself ready. I then sat on the sofa to relax whilst waiting for Crazyboy.

Watching Crazyboy get ready in the morning was like watching Faulty Towers. Mr ‘lack of organisation’ was running around grabbing all the things he hadn’t already packed, as myself and Mrs Crazyboy called out things he had probably forgotten, and had! Needless to say we were running late by the time we left!

We met Pete (or Father pacepusher-in-law!) at Hardgate, loaded everything into his car, and were off towards the starting point, still unsure where I was going to run from. I couldn’t decide if I should start at Bridge Of Orchy, or just set off from Victoria Bridge, the other side of the hill. I didn’t decide until I was almost there, settling for the shorter distance, and enabling me to run with Crazyboy from the start.   

Victoria Bridge to Kingshouse

9.16 miles 1:28:20  Average 9:39 min/miles

Even at 9:30am it was very warm. I was trying something new today, wearing shorts not cycling shorts, and applying Vaseline more often. I’ve been struggling badly from chafing on previous runs and really felt it was a problem I had to solve. I now have, I was pain free all day, and felt more comfortable overall. So Vaseline applied, hydration belt attached, sunglasses in place and WHW race Buff twisted, turned inside out, twisted again, then placed on my head randomly, we were off!

The scenery was amazing. I have hated this section in the past, so today I took time to admire the scenery, looking backwards now and again, and to enjoy the run. It made a big difference and we both really enjoyed it. Crazyboy just kept making comments like, “this is amazing!”. He’d not even been to this area before, let alone had the chance to run in it. I have a new game plan when reaching hills which is to slow down and keep going for as long as possible. By doing this, the big climb towards the end of Rannoch Moor didn’t seem anywhere near as bad as it has before. Maybe I’m just getting stronger though.

Crazyboy was finding the footing difficult coming down the hill towards Kingshouse. This is something I have not considered recently. As I have run on the WHW more and more, I have found myself thinking about the terrain less. I realised that I now run over the rocks confidently, lengthening and shortening my stride, and side stepping as necessary to select the best footing. As someone who has only run on tarmac, Crazyboy commented, “This isn’t running, this is dancing!”.

A comment from a walker, “are you practising for the 21st”, and we were in Kingshouse already!

Kingshouse to Altnafeadh (Devi’l Staircase)

2.92 miles 27:56  Average 9:34 min/miles

After a break of just over 5 minutes (5:20) I was off again, this time on my own. I had eaten a pot of baked beans, drunk a bottle of chocolate milk, ditched my hydration belt, and set off with a bag of salted potatoes and a bottle of water. I loved running towards Buachaille Etive Mor on the road. On a day like this, it’s a phenomenal sight. I actually enjoyed this whole section. I hardly stopped to walk, and slowly ate my potatoes throughout the section. The potatoes were easy to digest and I’ll be adding them to my race day menu.

As I had the camera, Pete took this photo of Buachaille Etive Mor from Kingshouse with my phone as he waited for us. What a view! I love Glencoe, so why would I not love running through it? …ask me that on 21st June when I’ve already covered about 72 miles!

 Altnafeadh to Kinlochleven

6.14 miles 1:15:54  Average 12:21 min/miles

After pouring the remainder of my water bottle over my head (it was really warm now) I grabbed my hydration belt and Crazyboy, and set off up the Devil’s Staircase. “How do we tackle this?”, Crazyboy asked. “Head down and keep moving!” was my suggested tactic!

Crazyboy had really wanted to do this section after seeing the WHWR DVD and we were moving well. I had my determined head on and Crazyboy was relishing the experience. After a quick photo stop we carried on pushing up the hill, passing loads of walkers. I took the photo to the right whilst we were walking (cue title, ‘A Shadow Of Our Former Selves!’). Nearing the top, Crazyboy suggested a 30 second rest, “nope!” I said, “were almost there”. After climbing for a distance of about a mile, and for about 20 minutes, we were at the top, swapping cameras for photo mementos with an American couple. We got chatting and they told us we had, “burned up there!”. They were doing the WHW over 7 days, Crazyboy told them my plans and when I said I was hoping to do it in about 22 hours, they almost fell over. As we left I told Crazyboy that I was going to tell the next people that asked that he was Jezz Bragg and was hoping to achieve a sub 15 hour time!

The hard part over, Crazyboy broke into a sprint, suddenly the terrain not bothering him so much. I followed and we made great progress over the rest of this stage. When we reached the final stage of the path down into Kinlochleven, Crazyboy began to feel the burn of the downhill. We kept pushing on though and we were soon arriving at Kinlochleven about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, Pete relaxing in the sun next to his car.

The view in both directions from the top of the Devil’s Staircase made the climb very rewarding. Crazyboy was stunned by the view ahead as he reached the summit.  

Kinlochleven to Lundavra

7.53 miles 1:23:12  Average 11:03 min/miles

My break was too long at Kinlochleven (8:20) as I had been hoping to maintain breaks to about 5 minutes at the most. I had eaten a pot of beans, drank coke and a pint of milk, and then eaten a piece of carrot cake. I had also applied yet more Vaseline. I decided to run with just a bottle of sports drink and some Jellybabies, leaving the hydration belt behind.

I was on my own again for this section, crazyboy having a well deserved rest. He was really helping to keep me going, and was making the whole experience more enjoyable with his own enthusiasm. He was loving the comments we were getting and the fact that people thought we were mad!

Setting off up the hill from Kinlochleven I was feeling a bit sick. The carrot cake had been a few calories too far, and I didn’t touch the Jellybabies at all over this section. Reaching the top of the hill and beginning my run across the Lairig Mor, I was struggling. The path continued to climb and the terrain was very uneven. I wanted to run and get into a stride but time and time again the terrain, not the inclines, meant I had to walk.

It was really, really, hot now and I was struggling. Twice I used my Buff to wash my face and neck from streams, and put it back on my head wet to try and keep cool. It took me a while to finally get into a stride but when I did I was moving well, generally under 9:00 min/miles. I managed to run most of the hills later on, and really started to move as Lundavra got closer. I had no idea of the exact distance over this section and it seemed to go on for ever. I had run out of fluids about 2 miles from Lundavra and was really thirsty, seeing Pete and Crazyboy with the car full of supplies was like an oasis in the dessert. This had been the toughest section, and is one I will not be looking forward to on race day. At least it won’t be as hot then though!  

Lundavra to Fort William

6.89 miles 1:06:20  Average 9:38 min/miles

Back on track with my break time (5:20), I’d had a large drink of water, more coke, and a Lucozade Alert. I couldn’t face anymore food! I put my hydration pack back on, making sure I had a bit more fluid than the last stage, and set off, once again with Crazyboy.

Twice I stumbled over the first 100 meters. My legs were tired, and I was struggling to get moving. We walked the climb away from Lundavra, then I broke into a run. I don’t know where it came from (I’m guessing the caffeine from the Lucozade Alert) but I was flying, Crazyboy was struggling to maintain my pace (He hasn’t run anywhere near this kind of distance since the Edinburgh Marathon last year!), and was a bit behind throughout the section. I suddenly felt great, and really strong, and was even attacking the hills. Crazyboy became me when running with Sonic previously, shouting from behind, “this is a hill, shouldn’t we be walking?”.

Add some of this to your race day menu…pure energy!

We were out of the woods in no time and I couldn’t believe it. Last time I ran this I felt it was never ending. Hitting the downhill path to Fort William I was off. I remembered JK saying that he ran all the way from the Stile coming out of the woods and I was aiming for the same. I also knew he had run this section in 1 hr 7 mins, so I wanted to be faster.

Crazyboy was struggling to keep up as I hit just over 6:00 min/mile pace down the hill, I was loving it! Hitting the relatively flat stretch towards the Braveheart Carpark, I slowed trying to let Crazyboy catch me,  but he just wasn’t gaining so I decided to push on. Pete was in the carpark so I left my hydration belt with him, told him to point Crazyboy in the right direction, and pushed on. Hitting the road, and despite covering 32 miles already, I was running at a relatively comfortable 7:00 min/mile pace. Picking the pace up further from the roundabout to the leisure centre. I was delighted with my time (which was faster than JK’s - result!) especially after struggling over Lairig Mor.

Crazyboy came in not too far behind me, having done well throughout the day. It had been a great run, but a very hot one, and the shower at the leisure centre was bliss!

Lessons from the run… Shorts and Vaseline work better for me than cycling shorts. Salted Potatoes are a good addition to the race menu, as is Lucozade Alert. I am in good shape for the race, and ready to go!

Thanks to Crazyboy for running with me, it made it much more enjoyable. And to Pete for his support (again!), I really couldn’t have done the run without you!

It’s now taper time for 3 weeks until the big day. What am I going to do with myself?