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I headed to Tyndrum alone, for a one-day
trip on Beinn Bhreac-liath and Beinn Udlaidh. These were the last two
I'd left unclimbed in an area of eight Corbetts surrounding Tyndrum. The
weather wasn't going to be especially bad but wouldn't brighten up until
later. So instead of dragging myself out of bed in the small hours of
the morning, I caught the 8.20am train from Queen Street.
I'd hoped for good weather but everything was looking very grey and
snow-streaked as the train pulled up the Gare Loch. I reminded myself
that there was still snow on the hills - I'd almost forgotten. I also reminded
myself that the weather was set to clear up today.
In Tyndrum, nothing had changed and two rolling Corbetts in
nil-visibility didn't seem like a lot of fun. I got a roll and sausage
and a cup of tea in the Green Welly cafe, (extortionate) and tried to
relax for a while before deciding to go for the hill. I started walking
at 11.10am.
Beinn Bheag
The West Highland Way is always a pretty nice walk and this time was no
exception. I got to the part where you cross beneath the railway and had to
double back on myself to reach the row of trees marching up the hillside
to Beinn Bheag.
Beinn Bheag means little hill in Gaelic, and I thought that really
described all there was to it. I climbed the side of the forest to the
snow and then brought out the map and compass to take a bearing for the
summit. The top is an area of jumbled hillocks and fence lines, not all
of which are marked on the 1:50,000 map. There were no spectacular features and
no views but my senses were incredibly sharpened. I found I almost
enjoyed this feeling of keeping a very close watch on the landscape. I
came to the top of a couple of hillocks, but I wasn't ever convinced I'd
been at the top yet. I moved through the mist until I found a cairn sitting on a ridge. It was
the summit for sure, and a relief to have found after a couple of false
tops.
Beinn Bhreac-liath
Another compass bearing brought me away from the cairn and over boggy
ground towards the saddle to Beinn Bhreac-liath. The snow was thawing
and the terrain gentle so I needed the use of an axe not once. The
ascent to the summit would be 200 boggy vertical metres and while I
wasn't overly excited, I thought I may as well get on with it. It was,
however thrilling to finally be using a map and compass the way they
should.
I know my way around the map and compass but I'm not great at it and
certainly haven't ever practiced. Knowing what goes where has got me out
of every navigational situation thus far but it's probably not my
strongest point. And while I understand magnetic variation conceptually,
I haven't worked out how it applies in a real-world situation (I'm
willing to bet it's really simple).
But one compass bearing would take me to the top of this hill, and I
could follow the north needle up the slopes until the ground flattened
out. The cloud cleared in bits when I reached the summit and I scouted
around for five minutes until I found a sizable cairn. Footprints from
the opposite direction ended here. I was on the summit and it was about
now that I came to the final decision now to do the second Corbett,
Beinn Udlaidh. I left that for another day.
This summit was a more interesting one than
the quality of the actual day suggests. One year previously saw the
weekend that Michael died at Glen Shee and I got out on the hills as a
kind of remembrance. Kevin McKeown was at Glen Etive (Stob Coire
Sgreamhach) doing the same. I stood at the summit for a long time
thinking, comprehending. Though the grief has subsided now to make the
event pretty painless, it had taken longer to get over than I'd
realised.
Descent
Descent was easy because I simply followed my tracks back. Where my
tracks faded out, a compass was handy to stay on course but went mostly
unneeded. About this time the cloud also lifted and I got a corker of a
view down Glen Lochy - the best view I'd get all day. I think it's a
pretty uninspiring glen and I, regretfully, have little positive to say
about it. At this point it was beautiful though, made more intense by
dramatic light in wake of the sensory deprivation of mist and snow.
For the first time of the day I could also
see the little hill, Beinn Bheag, that I'd crossed. I could have
retraced my steps over it, but decided instead to go down Coire
Chailein. This little corrie can't claim to be encircled by spectacular
peaks, but I always like to see a new place anyway. The glen is
apparently a recognised site of fluvial geomorphology and while
I'm not exactly sure what the second half means the erosion features are
substantial and notable, enough to be marked on the OS maps. And thank
God it isn't another glen suffocating beneath a blanket of Sitka spruce.
At foot of the glen I crossed beneath the A82 and crossed the plains of
sheep-cropped grass to the West Highland Way. Tired by now, I tied my
boots to my rucksack and put on a pair of sandals. With new-found energy
(footwear makes the difference) I enjoyed the miles back to Tyndrum.
In Tyndrum I went looking for wi-fi since I
brought a laptop along. The Real Food Cafe didn't have any, but got more
luck at Paddy's Bar and the associated hotel. I got something to eat and
had drinks, but just as I was about to head for the Real Food Cafe
again, I heard someone shout 'Kev!' behind me. Kev McKeown and
his brother Joe had arrived in Tyndrum and we sat in Paddy's bar for a
couple drinks before I had to leave for the train home. They'd had (what
sounded like) a good day on Stob Coire Sgreamhach and seemed to have had
some more views than me.
But views or not, I'd still had a quality day! |
