Bimbling in the Blackmount

I've waited a good while before writing up the best of our summer trips. Waiting, I suppose, until it's cold, dark and grim-enough outside that reliving a bit of summer sun warms my spirits. Hopefully yours too.

Now, one of the challenges I set myself for (ting-ting!) Round 2 was to take in Criese and Meall a' Bhuridh without the eyesore of the ski-slopes or the earache of the A82. By coming in from the south, over Stob a' Choire Odhair and Stob Ghabhar I reckoned we could turn these hills into a bit of a challenge. Well, they certainly turned out to be a challenge… but less because of any external factors, and more because of inter… well, more of that in due course.

And here's the first drawback to writing up a report months after the event… when I was writing the above I'd conveniently forgotten that the route I've described above (and which we did) wasn't part of some masterplan. No, The Plan included all the above and the hills going right over to Ben Starav. Well, Life got in the way of that plan, as you'll see.

Anyway, here we are setting out from Victoria Bridge early on a July morning. My god it was hot! I'm looking with anticipation towards what I thought would be the last hills of our trip.

Along the plumb-line path…

…and stalkers' track up on to Stob a' Choire Odhair. Then over to Stob Ghabhar.

So this was The Plan for the day… Without much sleep after the long drive up the previous evening, we'd made an early start on the promise that we would pitch the tent on the Aonach Mor ridge of Stob Ghabhar. We'd then cook lunch, have a nap, and head off for an evening saunter to Criese and Meall a' Bhuridh. Couldn't be more straightforward, eh? This was the spot…

Then lunch. Well, I have to admit that my Spag Bol tasted a bit funny. But I persevered. Caroline was eating the same thing, and hers tasted really funny. I tasted it too, and it was pyu*!+*&*^*ch. She didn't get beyond the first couple of mouthfuls.

Anyway, time for a few minutes of power-napping. A couple of hours later we came to, feeling very groggy. Still, we set off along the humpy shoulder of the Aonach Mor ridge. After a few hundred yards we contoured round the top of Glas Choirean to reach the broad Bealach Fuar-chathaidh. It must have been around 4pm by now, and when I looked ahead, Criese looked a long, long way away. I mean, it wasn't a long way away, but distance is in the eye of the beholder, and right then I realised that my grogginess was nothing to do with being sleepy. I asked C whether she felt ok, and all I got was a shake of the head. And you know how it is, the moment you accept that you're ILL, all you want to do is curl up and d…esist from going any further. But no, the tent was a very long uphill mile back. Ugh.

OK, I'll gloss over the next twelve hours back in the tent with one word: ugly. Thankfully, when I poked my head out at about 6 the following morning we were in thick clag. The weather certainly wasn't dragging us out of the tent, and we didn't take much persuading to sleep on. Eventually, after about 15 hours of pretty nauseous sleep, we woke up to glorious conditions. Clouds burning off! I felt better, and Caroline said she was feeling better. So off we went again, retracing yesterday evening's route along Aonach Mor which, in this next image, looks curiously off-colour. So, I soon realised, was C.

She wasn't for turning back, though. She reasoned that if I was feeling better, it was only a matter of time before she did too. Well, I suppose it was - but sadly no time soon. I'll spare you the further medical details, other than to say that it was a stop-start day. Anyway, once again we were staring over at Criese and Meall a' Bhuridh…

And here is our route looking back from the slopes of Clach Leathad. I'd recommend this route to anyone. Nothing spectacular - whaleback ridges and a featureless slope - but it had the feel of somewhere much more remote.

And higher up, looking over beyond Glen Etive.

I said I wouldn't go on about C's state of well-being on this walk, but this photo at the top of Criese tells a tale. Hardly the pose of a dragon-slayer, is it? Or at least if it is, then it looks as if the dragon put up quite a fight.

I did give C the option of missing out Meall a' Bhuridh, but she declined. What she said was that she was enjoying it, it was just her she wasn't enjoying. Hm. Impressively philosophical. A new Stoic, perhaps. Anyway, here Carolinius the Younger is, toiling up to the second summit.

After which, all we had to do was retrace our steps. Back down on the Bealach Fuar-chathaidh it was a lovely late-summer evening.

Apart from a couple on Criese, we hadn't seen a soul all day. Certainly not much sign of human passing on our route. In fact, by the time we'd picked our way along the sheep tracks round the top of Glas Choirean for the fourth time in two days, I quite fancied setting myself up as a guide for the traverse. Obviously commercial opportunities aren't going to be great, but you never know.

Here's the view from the tent, last thing, back out to the west…

And first thing the following morning, out over Rannoch Moor to the east…

The heatwave had broken, but at six in the morning there was still magic in the air. We were now a day behind on our plan to head over to Ben Starav, and without time or food, we decided to head back to base. Over Stob Ghabhar…

…and with a last look back at yesterday's hills…

…we plodded back down the Coire na Muic track to reality. Hm. Not a pleasant reality. First I managed to skitter on the shaly path, and tweek something in my leg. And then we started to meet the day shift coming up the track. Okay, the cloud was firming up behind us, and the glory had gone from the day, but even so the absence of smiles and (in one case) absence of any recognition at all came as a bit of a shock.

But I can't finish on that note. For 99% of our trip the weather had been glorious, the sheep-tracks perfect, the views sublime, and the few people we met friendly. Yes, the externals could not be faulted. And before I get back to the internals, I think I'll draw a line.