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On Friday evening, I found myself heading up the A82 in Michael's van,
looking out of the window to the starry skies above, Marillion on the CD
player. I'd been at a music rehearsal earlier, headed home then
organised my gear until Michael arrived. It had been a hectic day, but
it seemed on the A82 like there was no better place to be. The
destination was Glen Lochay, and we had about 24 hours to climb.
We'd walk as soon as we arrived beneath the mountain on Friday evening.
The plan was to climb through the night, sleep away the early morning
and walk again in time for dawn.
Beyond Crianlarich we pulled into a lay by on the A85. With interior
lights on we scanned the maps, pondering over which hill to visit. We
could go for Beinn Heasgarnich, Meall Ghaordaidh, or Meall Glas and
Sgiath Chuil. I suggested Meall Ghaordaidh, knowing that even in
darkness, navigation would be unproblematic. Meall Ghaordaidh
is a rare case among Munros where you can navigate from the bottom to
the top on one compass bearing - it's simply a case of being accurate.
Meall Ghaordaidh
Glen Lochay was cold and nowhere to be hanging about. Wearing everything
at ground level, our rucksacks were almost empty though I carried a
tripod. If the ideal occasion arose where the moon illuminated the
landscape, I would never forgive myself for leaving it behind. Although
the moon didn't appear this time around, it was invaluable to have the
tripod for a couple of shots.
We left the van at 9.30pm, taking an accurate compass bearing
that would lead us to the summit. Unable to park up at Tullich, we drove
back in the direction of Killin for a couple of hundred metres before we could find
a passing place big enough to accommodate Michael's van. From the van,
we crossed a fence into some fields, then walked through the trees and began the long toil up the
southern slopes.
The terrain never changed from moderately angled grassy slopes. The
following 600 vertical metres blurs into my memory although individual
points stand out. When we'd gained some altitude, we began to get views
south to the red glow of the cities. Cars occasionally drove down Glen
Lochay and at other times, we were startled by pheasants bursting into
flight metres away from us. Such a fright is bad enough in the day, but night
it's worse when your senses are so heightened. It was an eventful
night, even if the terrain remained unchanged on this otherwise dull
Munro.
Above all else though, I won't forget the vast grandeur of the night
sky, or the meteors and satellites. Now navigating following the North
Star (an awfully romantic thing to say...) we arrived at the final
summit slopes and the trig point followed soon after.
Our navigation had been immaculate and we were pleased as
anything because of it. We spent the following time taking summit
photos, trying to take pictures of the stars and lying on the ground
looking upwards, sucking in the atmosphere. We sat behind the trig point
to keep out the wind, though it was hardly warm. When we could take no
more, we left (1.45am) and with nothing to do but get down, we started the long toil into Glen
Lochay. It would be a long way back to the van below, and the glen was
visible only as a vast black pit with no sense of scale to suggest at
how far down it went. In the darkness, sense of scale diminishes and you
must keep working to determine your location. This would be easier with
the presence of the moon, but there was no such thing tonight and
nothing for the eye to focus upon. Only the light of our torches, the
sodium glow of distant cities and specks of light in the valley to see.
That asides, just walls of black all around and dim, nebulous formations
glowing in the night - perhaps a lochan or cloud bank that reflected a
little more light. It's so atmospheric and something worth seeing.
But as incredible as the night was, the descent just
dragged on, able only to see the ground immediately ahead of us. The glen
went further down than I could have imagined.
We just kept descending and when the mountains became black silhouettes
above us, we guessed that we were
close to the bottom.
I was on the phone to home long after 3am to say we were down, but
unsure of where the end actually lay in respect to us. (Parents were
appreciative of the fact I'd phoned them to say I was off the hill, even
at this hour) As I spoke, nothing less than the house Tullich appeared
in our torch beams. More good navigation on our part! And
although we almost (and accidentally!) walked through their garden, we were
onto the road in no time and back to the van at 3.45am.
Part II: Meall Glas
Time for the next part of the walk. We'd settled on Meall Glas and
Sgiath Chuil, so drove to Kenknock at the head of the Glen Lochay road
where we parked in the darkness. We got ready again, I got a few minutes
sleep (or maybe more?) and we set off again, aiming for a good track
that would take us as high as about 650m.
We followed the track from Kenknock for several hundred metres before we
crossed the river and got onto the track above. We passed Lubchurran
where I stopped to see to some developing blisters before carrying on up
the steep track. This would take us a large way towards the top, but
it was steep and relentless. Around about, the sky was lightening, stars
disappearing and dawn breaking.
The sky changed colour first, through dark blues to golds and reds
appearing here and there. Sadly, hidden behind Sgiath Chuil, we missed
the moment of sunrise, but could see the peaks around about changing
colour as they were hit by the sun. We left the track and continued up the last grassy slopes to Beinn
Cheathaich's summit.
Although the going was tough, the views were magnificent and around each corner, more
scenery awaited us with
mountains spreading out in every direction for miles. The air was just
so clear. It had the feeling of being a cold winters morning, although
there was no snow on the tops and it was only October. It just felt so
good to be out today and a pleasure to be out with such good views.
At Beinn Cheathaich's summit, we continued across to Meall Glas where we
arrived at 8.30am. We stayed for five minutes then headed back, taking a
break just before Beinn Cheathaich. Where the wind wasn't too strong, we
sat down for a break. Wisps of cloud curled around the base of Ben More
which was an extra reward and in no time, I'd fallen asleep.
Sgiath Chuil and Descent
I awoke feeling cold, but happily drowsy in the calmness, watching the
still morning. We didn't even care about walking, and spent ten more
minutes there before setting off towards Sgiath Chuil. When we'd got
going, we walked back to Beinn Cheathaich, contoured it's side then
descended a steep gully to Lairig a' Churain below.
It was a warm day down in the Lairig - warm enough to be wearing shorts
and a t-shirt. It was a long climb back up the other side of the hill
though, and slogging up the grass slopes brought us onto the broad
summit ridge, where various cairns crowded the top. We followed the path
south across the ridge where we were met by the summit cairn and with
it, my 60th Munro.
The wind made it a bit cold on Sgiath Chuil, so we left within minutes.
The path took us back to the north end of the ridge and then down
towards Glen Lochay. Here, we heard a couple of gunshots, suggesting
that people were out stalking today. We left the ridge and followed the
NW slopes to the track below. Ten minutes of walking along the glen
brought us back to the van, where we arrived at 2.05pm, the end of a
great walk in beautiful weather. We headed across to Tyndrum's Real Food
Cafe for chips before driving back to Glasgow.
Panoramas
360° panorama from Beinn Cheathaich
360° panorama from Meall Glas
360° panorama from Sgiath Chuil
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