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This was my third
weekend away with Up A Mountain MC. The area was Fort William and the four
of us were staying in Bank Street Lodge which lies just off the high
street. Dave and I travelled up the A82 on the Friday and arrived at
Fort William while there was light left. All my outings with Up A
Mountain to this point had been mid-winter so it was nice to see
slightly longer days. I arrived early but the days are getting longer
and there's hints of spring...
That evening we headed out to the pub and it came as a surprise that I
couldn't enter many places without ID. Fort William pubs were strict in
comparison to places in Braemar or Aviemore, though the police presence
was rather large and atmosphere wasn't as settled. Still, we found
certain places to drink and returned to the bunkhouse around 1am. A
glass of red wine followed in the communal area and I was asleep just
after 2am.
The morning brought more low cloud though it wasn't looking too bad.
Wind and rain was almost non existent now, but heavy rain was forecasted
for later on in the day and an early start was in order. We headed down
to Morrison's for breakfast before driving the short distance to the
Aonach Mor car park. From here the gondola headed up from about 150m to
over 600m. Whether the walker should use this to gain some height seems
to have been to be a minorly controversial issue but it gets you high
quick. I usually don't mind slogging a little and gaining height that
way but the decision had been made. In the end I found the gondola to be
quite an experience in itself - before this I'd never knowingly been in
one.
Aonach Mor
We arrived at the "mountain restaurant" where the conditions were more
favourable than I'd anticipated. I put on waterproofs however as rain
and winds were expected higher up and I didn't want to be messing around
up there trying to put things on. We began walking and cut across to the
ski tows where we followed snowfields upwards. The weather wasn't
terribly inspiring and neither was the hill, but I was feeling good
about my physical condition. Things were slow to start with but as we
gained altitude, things picked up and I got into a rhythm. Then the
slope flattened out and we crested the plateau as we headed into cloud.
James and I began walking ahead and often I stopped to photograph the
plateau. Beyond the ski tows, the mountain felt inspiring and we walked
through the near-whiteout, aiming roughly towards the summit. Many of
the images turned out flat and white (as one would expect, I suppose)
but the photographs didn't begin to capture the feeling of being there.
For many years I've been a fan of the band Genesis and their lyrics to
the song One For the Vine resonated through my head. They felt fitting:
"They travelled cross the plateau of ice, up to its edge. Then they
crossed a mountain range and saw the final plain." When I say
fitting, I mean it not only in a literal sense but in that I have deep
rooted associations between the Genesis album Wind & Wuthering and the
Glen Coe mountains in particular. My guess is that one of the first
times I saw the area, Wind and Wuthering was playing in the car, so
walking along the plateau of Aonach Mor, although not quite Glen Coe,
held a deeper significance, however subtle.
The ground rose gently until James and I came upon a cairn. It wasn't a
substantially sized cairn and it was several minutes before we began to
have our doubts about it, sensing that perhaps we were not standing on
the true summit. Upon checking the map, a top at the NE side of the
plateau may have fooled us and so we carried onwards. The ground dropped
at first and then rose once more, culminating in a large cairn which was
most definitely the summit of Aonach Mor. (12.10pm)
At the top, I ate some food (although it wasn't particularly good) and
phoned home. Colin and Dave hadn't come yet, and we reckoned that they'd
maybe make the same mistake as us and follow us onto the summit. After a
while we went back towards the subsidiary top, met them mid-way and
headed back over to the real summit where the four of us took a break.
Aonach Beag
From the south a guy arrived at the summit, the only walker we'd see all
day. He'd come from Glen Nevis alone and as he arrived we continued on
our way to Aonach Beag. A path headed downhill to the bealach between
Mor and Beag and from there the NW ridge of Aonach Beag came into view.
I had increasingly been feeling 'away out there', and this wild
looking ridge curved up to the left and into the mists. Apprehension was
building so I took out my axe for in the past it's had the effect of
leaving me secure and feeling safe on steep ground. When I arrived at
the ridge there was a small patch of steeply angled snow to cross
followed by a brief scramble over loose ground. Normally this terrain
wouldn't bother me whatsoever, but on this occasion something really
came over me. I don't know what had changed but suddenly I felt very far
out there. I was only asking myself to do a couple of easy moves but I
couldn't stop looking down and thinking of the consequences of not
making it. I knew I wasn't thinking right and consciously repeated
"You're in control, you're in control..." over and over until I was
past the difficulties. I don't know what came over me, but I find these
mind games that the mountains provoke intriguing. It's my intention to
work on this slight problem and perhaps take a bit of control of myself.
Sometimes I find it easy to pull off an exposed line of ascent, other
times my head seems to be away on the verge of panic. My abilities could
do with a little work...
Beyond the crags, the terrain gradually levelled out we continued over
ice sheets up in the direction of the summit. Everything was thawing
however and crampons were not needed, I could punch my feet straight
through. I'd bought some Grivel G10's a couple of weeks previously,
though they hadn't been needed. Some slogging brought us up to the
summit, where hints of blue sky began appearing. Being at the top end of
the clouds, the sun filtered through and the place glowed with muted
light. It was one of these "moments" that occur without warning it was
other-worldly.
The summit didn't present itself too easily. Unsurprisingly, the east
face was heavily corniced and we saw glimpses of this through the
ever-moving mist. This was the first time I'd ever had to consider
cornicing and when rocks stopped poking through the top of the snow
(signalling solid ground, of course), I stopped there. I stayed in my
own comfort zone but playing it carefully and within my own judgement,
found myself standing upon the highest visible rocks and it seemed to be
the summit of Aonach Beag. After the weekend and when I got home, I
discovered that Aonach Beag has a substantially sized cairn although
where we stood, there was nothing. Just rocks on the ground and a build
up of snow to the east side that no one dare venture out to. We matched
the GPS up with the map, checked the height we were currently at and it
would have seemed that we were on the summit. Apart from cornices, there
was no higher ground left to stand upon. A study of the GPS and map
suggested we were on top. A cairn was nowhere to be seen but we were on
top and with this knowledge we set off down.
Returning over Aonach Mor
We passed the guy we'd met on Aonach Mor once again, though only brief
words were exchanged. Descending towards the Mor-Beag saddle, the
descent was plain easy. Why I'd worried and why I'd needed to keep
myself focused beforehand I hadn't a clue, because we were back at the
saddle in no time and there was absolutely nothing to worry about.
Beyond the saddle, we made our way back to the car over Aonach Mor and
so we reascended. It was a slog but I got a nice phone call from friend
Tom, who I chatted to for a while. We arrived back at Aonach Mor's
summit and headed back down the other side with the intention of
catching the gondola. We came out of the mist and at 950m, someone must
have fallen perhaps, but we realised that the snow fields of Aonach Mor
could be 'glissaded'. I regressed to little-boy mode and sat on my arse
before careening down the snow fields. I kept feet wide, using my heels
to control speed and direction, but to fly down the slopes on my bum was
exhilarating and definitely a pleasant way to end the day. We must have
made it down to 800m before we ran out of snow and from there it was an
easy walk to the restaurant. A hot chocolate awaited (a fabulous one at
that) before we caught the gondola down to the car.
That evening it was equally as hard to get into the pubs as on Friday
night, though I don't think we tried so many places. It'll be easier in
the future to bring along valid ID and have no problems, but on this
evening I didn't spend so much time out and got to bed fairly early
anyway. Another 2am bedtime would do
me no favours. Sunday morning brought more low cloud though it was time
to go home and Dave and I took the A82 down the road following breakfast
in Morrison's. I met up with mum at the BP garage in Milton (beside the
Erskine Bridge) and arrived home soon afterwards.
It was only on Sunday evening that the feeling of achievement seeped in
and I felt very positive about the weekend I'd had. Even with bad
weather, two 1200m+ Munros were climbed. Possibilities for the next
time? The Glen Nevis approach looks interesting and perhaps a clear day
is in order. From what I can tell, the views from these two mountains
are stunning: across Ben Nevis, the Grey Corries and over to the
Mamores, etc... A thanks goes to Dave, James and Colin for having me
along, these hills certainly felt a grade beyond my usual hillwalks.
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