KLIBRECK FROM THE EAST

The second of four trips we did in the summer which I want to write up, is a single-day trip, up Ben Klibreck. Again, the challenge was to avoid the usual approaches - in this case from the west. As usual with challenges, the results were worth the effort.

So, how to do Ben Klibreck another way? The answer was easy, at least in theory, because on my first time up I'd come up from the Crask and seen a tantalising view out to the east from the Bealach Easach. Practically, though, coming in from the east looked like quite a challenge - mile after mile of flat low flow country. There was a track marked on the map, though, and from the photos on Geograph this looked bikeable. So it proved - although there is a caveat about the quality of the track, which I'll come to later. From our start point my Garmin told us that Ben Klibreck was just over twelve miles away as the (Munro-bagging) crow would fly.

Anyway, here is what we saw just after having parked up at Badenloch Lodge and cycled down to the Loch. That's Ben Loyal in the far distance.

And Klibreck itself only looks marginally closer…

Still, this was one of those days in the far north where the weather seems as unimpeachable as the quality of the track, and it didn't seem to matter that the end of neither was in sight.

After ten miles we came to Loch Choire Lodge. When you get to a place like this you really feel as if you've left your normal life a million miles away… so who should we meet, building a new bothy for the Estate there, but a bloke from the next town to us in Yorkshire. Did we know x, he asked? Yes, and did he know y? (Ah, but why did he know y, I hear you ask? And why, come to that, did we stop at y, and not ask if he knew anyone called Zed?). Enough!

This is the wonderful view from the east end of the loch…

…and looking east towards Morven…

Once we'd crossed the outflow at the bridge the track became more stony, so we left the bikes and continued on foot. A few hundred yards after this next photo, we headed right up the spur of Klibreck called Meall an Eoin.

Not before Sadie had cooled herself off, though…

I must admit, it was baking hot. C was wilting - just after I took this photo we came across a dribble of a stream, and we nearly drank the thing dry.

Out to the east was the big sky of summer…

…but hang on a minute, what's this coming in from the west?

Yes, in about half an hours we went from serious overheating to…

…waterproofs on, and a chilly damp summit. Honestly, anyone would have thought we were hill-walking in Scotland!

We varied the return route by heading north-east along the spine of Klibreck as far as Meall Ailein, then going down a spur to the loch. Passing, en route, what has to be one of the most remote of memorials: to a 1955 RAF crash.

Yes, this was very-much a day of two halves. (WARNING! - more footy references coming up.) Compare this view (or lack of view) of Klibreck with the earlier one from the same spot…

So much for the unimpeachable track and weather! Not only had the sun gone in and the midges come out for the return trip, but the rain had turned that lovely firm track into an eleven-mile-long long-jump pit. The stuff of nightmares. The harder we pedaled, the deeper the trench we ploughed, and the slower we seemed to travel.

Still, I have nothing but fond memories of this day. Partly, I suppose, because we were On Holiday. So we could do a silly thing on the way back - go to La Mirage in Helmsdale on the way back. For those who don't know it, imagine fish-and-chips-cafe meets Parisian-burleske. Interesting. But good tucker.

And being on holiday, we were able to be lazy the following day and take in all the entertainment Brora had to offer which, in this case, was The Big One: Brora Rangers playing Inverness Cally Thistle in the North of Scotland Cup. Shameless celeb-spotting on our part, thinking that we might see Terry Butcher there. So when the subs and coaches came out and there was no sign, we thought Brora would be too lowly for a visit by the great man. But hold on, who's this taking his place in the stand as the teams come out?

Yes, Butcher and Butcher's dog! Very well-behaved he was, too (I'm talking about the owner). It was really the Inverness reserves, which is why Mr Butcher was taking a back seat. And that's probably also why Brora, on penalties, won! Here's the climactic moment…

And that wasn't the end of our sporting events for the week. Two days later we were at Dornoch Highland Games, where we were able to enjoy traditional events such as Dropping the Heavy Weight on Your Own Foot…

…and Dancing with a PA System and Flagpole Balanced on Your Head…

…and Boinging in a Bag. Actually, note well the intent look of the gal in the lead here - she won every single toddlers' race, and is obviously destined for Olympic glory.

Oh yes, we did do other hills on our northern holiday…