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With the purpose of seeing Kev McKeown up
his 200th Munro, Kev, myself and Kev's brother David headed northwards with Glen Finnan's Sgurr nan Coireachan
as the chosen Munro.
Travelling and Bothy (Friday Night)
This trip came about as the result of a Facebook group, and Kev and I
made plans to meet in Glasgow. We met at Queen Street - Kev was
driving and Davy McKeown was in the front too. They'd been pretty late
so we headed off up the motorway, across the Erskine Bridge and onto the
A82.
Glenfinnan is a fairly long drive from Glasgow and we would arrive in
the dark. I've only been along the Fort William to Mallaig road once
back when I was eight, and always prefer to see the mountains surrounding
the road instead of the car-lit tarmac of night. That said, the A82
south of Fort William is always an amazing car journey, so I've no
complaints there...
When we arrived at Glen Finnan, Kev decided to drive the car up the
glen. He'd tried getting in contact with the estate but received no
reply. With a lot of fire fuel in the car (logs, coal, etc), we thought
it reasonable to drive supplies up as the estate hadn't got back to say
otherwise.
So we piled our gear, fuel and food into the bothy and got a fire going.
Once started, it was superbly comforting - a class bothy night. The
bothy was however a bit big to be warmed, so I was always wearing all my
layers. I was only really warm inside my sleeping bag so spent much of
my time there.
All was well and quiet, until a Land Rover parked up outside the glen.
We knew why. The estate manager (I think) walked in the door, well over
six feet high, wearing wellies and tweeds, demanding the car be moved to
the car park at the bottom of the glen. Kev, the politician that he is,
did the talking but it was no banana as they say, the car had to move.
Kev, the politician he is, did however get a lift back up the glen from
the estate manager, a reasonable man doing his job, a fact we were happy
to accept.
Morning
Morning light brought a fresh perspective on
the glen, and although the air was cold, bothy door views were
refreshing. The bothy is set so close to the surrounding mountains as to
give little hint to their architecture, though Sgurr an Utha (a Corbett)
is an exception. Views are good across the hummocks of it's craggy east
Top, Fraoch-bheinn. Today there was only a dusting of snow, far
different to the snow-plastered eastern reaches of Scotland. There was
even extensive snow coverage on my local Campsie Fells, but not at Glen
Finnan. This is not such a bad thing if it meant quicker progress
through the mountains.
It wasn't so early when Kev and I set out
from Corryhully bothy. Perhaps a December start should have been several
hours earlier, but we had set out just prior to 11am and would have
about 4 hours on the move before darkness fell. We didn't anticipate
things to be too slow-moving either and were confident that we could
make it.
Sgurr nan Coireachan (almost)
Kev knew the way far better than me, having been here in the past
with Michael, to climb Sgurr Thuilm. The track that leads up the glen
from Corryhully bothy eventually takes you through Coire Thollaidh, in
the bowl of the Glenfinnan Horseshoe, or alternatively around the side
of this cradle, through to Glen Pean to the north. We wanted to leave
the track quite early on, then follow a stalkers track up the side of
Sgurr a' Choire Riabhaich and over onto Sgurr nan Coireachan.
Beyond the rickety bridge pictured below, a cairn and signpost marks the
turn off. Kev had suggested I go around Sgurr Thuilm and meet him on the
summit of Coireachan, but I wanted to stick together - the chat was good
anyway and if for whatever reason we couldn't meet on the Coireachan
summit (which seemed like a possibility worth considering) then it could
spell trouble.
We climbed ever gradually up the shoulder of Sgurr a' Choire Riabhaich,
talking a lot, taking photos of the views south down Glen Finnan. It was
getting late for a winters day, although still we'd hoped to make it up.
This 'Corbett Top', Sgurr a' Choire
Riabhaich, is relatively speaking pretty obscure. It's not a common name
thrown around the Scottish hill-scene and sits in the shadow of the
Munro. From most angles it appears as simply an extension of the Munro -
some impressive serrated cliffs hanging on the side of Sgurr nan
Coireachan. But when you're actually below it and looking up, it is
completely different - not only because you know you have to climb up
it! It has a symmetrical form, inspiring in me an element of fear the
way the Torridonian mountains do. It reminded me a little of Torridonian
form and I wondered for more than a moment about how we anticipated to
get on top. Today it was covered by thawing but thick snowfields,
interspersed with grass and boulders. An ascent shouldn't be too hard, I
guessed. There would be a way.
But in the meantime, Kev's knee was causing him problems. It had been
grating away and as time marched on (it was lunchtime and we were at
700m) it appeared today might not be his day. A trip into a gap,
aggravating the knee further, confirmed this. But we plodded on for the
moment. The impressive and (maybe) impenetrable Riabhaich turned out to
have an 'easy' ascent path around the left hand side, which would be
very easy on a summers day, but hardly so with thick blocks of unstable
snow hanging above a fall-line that ended in a cliff!
I got up, but here came the point that Kev decided it was time to turn
around. Damn. It had been his mountain too, his 200th Munro. But when
I'd managed to clear the tricky sections of scrambling, he told me to go
have a try at the summit. Well - why not? And as Kev began his descent,
I headed upwards again, unsure what the final outcome
Last push, turning around and Descent
At first I was hopeful. I probably had about
two hours until complete darkness and in that time, I would have to
summit and get back to Kev. First of all, I had to see the summit of
Riabhaich. So I pushed hard to get there and glimpsed my first views
over to the north when I arrived on top. Most importantly, I saw for the
first time the summit of the Munro we'd been trying for hours to reach.
My God, it was miles away.
I could see the mountains surrounding the mighty Sgurr na Ciche to the
north - dark and menacing, thrilling all the same. Garbh Chioch Mhor and
surrounding mountains looked utterly bleak. Completely cold. It was
thrilling.
Cloud didn't conceal my hill, Sgurr nan Coireachan, in any way to make
it seem further away than it was, but the distance and terrain made me
stop and think twice. It was quarter to three in the afternoon, I had
over a kilometre to walk just to reach the top then do the same back.
The ground would be unpredictable cliffs, Knoydart style, scattered
among thawing snowfields. Well, onwards I went... it was a worth a shot,
surely?
Tension was building, winding tighter and tighter as I went. Just
descending to the saddle was tiring, nevermind the long ascent on the
other side. With each step, I sunk in which was utterly exhausting. The
summit was longer away than I could comprehend climbing safely, and
darkness was making itself felt. More important than the summit was
getting back and I wasn't prepared to flounder around, alone, at the
night.
Finally, the stress was doing my head in so greatly, that at a
magnificently impressive cliff (above, 2nd from right, much more
impressive in life!) I decided to turn around and go back. What a
relief! It would be better to come back another day than risk being
caught out in this wild world.
Not knowing when I'd be back up here, (it
could be a year or more) I took a panorama of the summits to the north,
a self-portrait, and around I went. On my way back, the tension was
released and I enjoyed my situation for the first time since I left Kev
below. I was completely comfortable with turning back.
Below, I was glad to see Kev and we
continued descent in the dark. Company makes the whole situation a lot
easier to weather, and the long walk down the ridge was just fun, though
I was fatigued. We continued into the night without pulling out head
torches and emerged back at the door of Corryhully bothy by the dim glow
of moonlight.
There was another nice story attached to this dark descent. Kev lost his
camera somewhere on the way down. A week or two later, I posted on a
forum, in the thread of a guy who had been on the horseshoe the day
after us. I mentioned where I had been. Not making the connection to
Kev's camera, he began asking strange questions about our walk, and the
penny dropped when he wrote "I may have something of Kev's". Ah ha!
Wind on a few weeks, and Kev's digital camera was slotted through his
letterbox, thanks to an honest guy from Scottishhills.co.uk. I think Kev
was glad. It's great to see honesty like this among the hill-going
world.
Bothy (Saturday Night)
Anyway! Back in the bothy I slept instantly,
waking up a while later to Kev and Davy sitting around a roaring fire.
Davy had kept the flame going all day while Kev and I were on the hill.
It was another quiet night in the bothy, with three of us at one end and
the other climbers gathered around the other gable end. They didn't
socialise much, but again neither did I, curled up in my bag!
With Sgurr nan Coireachan unsuccessfully climbed, I decided to solo up
Sgurr Thuilm in the morning. The forecast was looking superb and it
would be a crime not to go. In retrospect I'm only too glad I did. It
became a magnificent morning, a quick dash up and down, sucking down the
cold mountain air, feeling free, once more morning and once last time
before going home.
And to finish things off, Kev and I would be back at Glenfinnan in a
matter weeks to tidy up the unfinished business. Kev climbed his 200th
Munro, and the mountain gave us an epic more brilliant than we would
have expected - a summit well worthy of his 200th.
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