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To finish off the fantastic weekend, Colin
and I went up Fionn Bheinn at Achnasheen. We had stayed at Jim
Sutherland's house in Sheildaig. Outside the weather was fantastic,
again. The prospect of great weather for the foreseeable future was
great but for the wild fires raging across the Highlands. And Liathach
was still burning. Colin, Faye and I
said goodbye to Jim and his family, drove through Torridon for the last
time and headed for Achnasheen.
Photos: Sheildaig to Achnasheen
Fionn Bheinn
Once there, we parked at the lay-by, got the sun cream on and packed a
single rucksack to be swapped between us. We followed the path threading
it's way alongside Allt Achadh na Sine. Faye turned back fairly soon
though, and spent the next few hours in the valley.
This was an interesting hill to climb because in the Munro-bagging
circles, it gets rather bad press. The summit dome can't be seen from
Achnasheen but it opens up beautifully and paints a picture of
simplicity quite like hills of the Southern Uplands. The rolling
gradients demand to be walked across, but I wonder what I would say
about this hill if we'd instead climbed it in a storm.
Peat hags fizzled out to thin grass and heather as Colin and I continued
to swap the rucksack. We walked up to Creagan nan Laogh, a single
southern spur and took a break on the moss, in the sun with a breeze
whipping along. For a hot day, I became surprisingly cold.
The summit ridge became tantalisingly close and we marched upwards. I
thought of the Fannaichs ahead, eager to see the 360 degree panorama.
The views from this hill are stunning, and few hills I think offer such
a balanced view of so many mountains. It stands so alone among so many
incredible ranges - everything from Mullardoch to An Teallach and the
Fannaichs. Whatever mountains were visible, the smoke billowing from
Glen Torridon was surely unique. Liathach is a giant from the east -
only the smoke suggested that the western end was smothering under wild
fire.
We got onto the ridge and followed it to the summit - Toll Mor is a nice
piece of nature's work on an otherwise unassuming hill. And the summit
was rounded off with a neatly set trig point.
We didn't stay long - Colin was straight off essentially without
stopping, although we didn't want to keep Faye waiting longer than
necessary. I took a 360 degree panorama and set off on my way. (And
subsequently spent several fun hours annotating the incredible number of
mountains! I counted 50 visible Munros from the summit of Fionn Bheinn,
not forgetting Corbetts on Rum, in the Monadhliath and Munros as far as
Ben More Assynt!)
And then a quick descent followed down the huge grassy slopes, back down
to Achnasheen. We were deep in chat about topics most of which I forget,
but one of the most interesting topics is always the Gaelic origin of
hill names, a subject in which Colin's knowledge is deep. For me, it's
much valued and appreciated. It's amazing for me to see as a monolingual
English speaker, that Gaelic is alive and well among some. Our bilingual
road signs don't seem so contrived after all.
A final descent brought us into Achnasheen, where it really hit that the
weekend was over. A lifestyle roaming the hills gets into you. Colin and
I went for a dip in the river (upstream from the rotting sheep) although
it wasn't deep enough for a swim.
And then we were homebound. What a superb few days - the hills were
fantastic, the weather second-to-none, the people met inspiring. We
watched Liathach go on fire and burn on. Colin saw Munro #200 and my
passion for the north-west cuts deeper than it did before. I could live
here. I live for stuff like this.
360° panorama from Fionn Bheinn
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