Dun da Ghaoithe

Date: 31 December 2019

Is it still worth writing up account of the expedition when the summit has remained untrodden? Probably not, but we had a nice day, so bad luck. Here it is.

I've no real designs on completing the Corbetts, but if there's one in the area, I'm more than happy to go and say hello. Same rules apply as they do to my Munro bagging, though: I'm not interested in standard routes. Call me awkward (and there are those who call me far worse) but I like being a bit different.

In the case of Dun da Ghaoithe on Mull, I certainly had no interest in the standard route, which for the most part looks like a vehicle track up to a mast. So we started from just south of Salen (or 'somewhere near St. Kilda' as Caroline muttered.)

The day was fine, although a bit too much of it had already gone by the time we set of up…

…Glen Forsa.

A few…

…deer noticed us passing. They should keep their heads down: the Mull Abattoir is just round the corner.

There are so many useful aids, these days, to working out a route. I'd looked on Geograph, and I'd looked on Google Earth, and been able to see exactly where all the forestry tracks in Glen Forsa led. Trouble is, I could clearly see that they led nowhere of much use to us. So, at…

…Gaodhail we left the track and headed diagonally up hill.

After a while…

…Ben More and the lovely west coast of Mull came into view.

And once we were up on top of the ridge…

…there was the mainland. Caroline fancied the look of Loch a Mhaim for a high camp some time. Just as well, as by this time I realised that if we went on to the summit of Dun da Ghaoithe we'd end up floundering around in the dark. OK, I have to admit that there was something worse than a late start to blame here. I thought that the top of Dun da Ghaoithe was out of sight, beyond the next bump in the ridge. Nup. If I'd looked at the map properly I'd have realised that it was the next bump, and we've had had time to scuttle up and down. Duh!

So we headed off down the shoulder of Beinn Thunacaraidh. Shinty, showing a little more acumen and awareness than her Master, was trying to spy out a route…

…through the forestry. There wasn't one. The closest we got to finding a reasonable route back was a 'Walkers Welcome' sign. It led into a forest drive with no path, and thence to a river with no bridge: there are welcomes and welcomes. So we made our way back along the top of the forestry. In my book, trackless tussock beats Sitka spruce.

Ah well, a day when the only thing achieved was a measure of happiness. Oh, and (no small matter this) we managed to tire the dog out! The following morning she was limping with a sore paw, so she scored herself…

a lift in the pack.