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Cycling Loch Laggan - Lubvan
I don't think I've ever been so cold in my life.
Well, almost. The weekend was a mountaineering club meet and the venue
was The Cabin, a JSMC-owned hut at Laggan. We all brought bikes along to
get into some of the more remote areas, so started at the car park by
Loch Laggan on Saturday morning. Seven of us (Dave, Dougie, James S.,
Paul, James M., Craig and I) started cycling which seemed to start with a brutal hill. I'd
been here before - in April 2010 - and climbed the trio of Beinn a'
Chlachair, Geal Charn and Creag Pitridh. I enjoyed those hills, but I
also wanted to explore some new terrain today and see some new hills.
So I was pleased that shortly before we arrived at Loch na h-Earba
(which is a beautiful area) the general vote was to turn right and head through the valley
towards Beinn Eibhinn. We set our sights on the four Munros - Beinn Eibhinn,
Aonach Beag, Geal-charn and Carn Dearg, although at the present they looked a hell of a long way
away. Tucked right in at the back, it was obvious that they would
require a big effort.
I hadn't been feeling well recently and that didn't help either. As we
cycled along, I was conscious that I was still only recovering and that
burn-out could occur at any time. My body worked if I set a pace and
stuck to it. If I revved the engine and steamed ahead, the body
complained and demanded I slow down. This must be what it's like to
be old, I thought. I did as I was told and kept the pace down.
The bikes did a great job, in the end. We took them just over 6kms in
the end and left them near the ruin Lubvan. The going had been
rough, but we'd some good views of surrounding mountains anyway. But our
hills still looked a long way away.
Beinn Eibhinn
Walking was a welcome change in dynamic. The path (too rough for a bike)
hugged the side of Allt Cam which today flowed with some force. We
walked on without issue until we arrived at the foot of our mountains.
We had a problem: the hills were on the opposite bank of the river. I
tried many crossing points, all were too risky.
The group split - Paul walked upstream, everyone went downstream
and I kind of stayed in the middle, unsure where to go. I had thoughts
of turning back when Paul called from upstream - he'd got across. If he
could, I'm sure the rest of us could follow on. The funny thing was when
I got home, I realised my map mentioned stepping stones! I saw none of
these although I'm sure they exist.
The boots came off, and one by one, we slid bare feet into the water. It
was cold - I wouldn't want to do that again! But the temperature
asides, Paul had found a relatively safe crossing point and we all
arrived on the far bank.
With boots back on our feet, we continued. I've mentioned a couple of
times that our hills always looked far away. Even now, at the foot of
Beinn Eibhinn, it still didn't seem close. A long walk over the heather
and grass would sort that and we contoured the hillsides, up onto Sron
an Fhuarain and into the cloud.
I'm not sure exactly when the weather really turned on us, but it was
about here. And I hardly remember a time when I've felt so miserable. We
got onto Beinn Eibhinn's west arm, and headed east towards the summit,
as wind and rain battered us. It was partly my fault that I chose not to
wear waterproof trousers. The rain would cool the the trousers and the
wind would make them stick to my skin. The weather was awful and there
was no way around the feeling of being deeply cold. It was too wild to
put my over-trousers on.
The summit followed shortly after, I took a quick photo (hard work in
those conditions) and we decided to continue onward to Aonach Beag. At
the time, I couldn't bear to go up another hill.
When we reached the saddle between Eibhinn and Aonach Beag, I took a
welcome break out the wind. The guys - probably warmer - talked about
continuing to Aonach Beag, while I thought I could really do with
going straight down.
Aonach Beag, descent and cycle out
I didn't speak up because somewhere, the thought of another hill was
somehow appealing. Maybe the justification was that I'll be glad of it
when I look back... Whatever it was, I continued upwards, in a way
feeling tortured and numb from the waist down. It is rare that I have to
make some growling noises to keep moving. (Although it happens...)
Aonach Beag was just another summit cairn, and I sat in the shaded side.
(It was still cold!) I have never felt so vulnerable in this way before.
Fighting bad health, I was very wet and very cold on a mountain an hours
walk, a river crossing, another hours walk and a cycle from the road. I
felt very far away. It was humbling to know my body could let me down
and that I could do nothing but knuckle down and walk. Warmth and
comfort were now a flicker of my imagination.
Time to get down. Everyone agreed, and we walked off the north ridge and
to calmer weather below. I got a very moody photograph
looking through An Lairig, but taking it was a lot of effort. When your
stretched to the limit, it's amazing how something as simple as taking a
photograph becomes so difficult. At the river, we crossed quite far
upstream and with wet feet I walked right through.
And then a long, featureless walk would bring us back to the bikes. I
walked on ahead, impatient and tired. Each step was taking me back to
comfort but a warm room, a towel still seemed a long way off. I arrived
back at the bikes first and the rest followed on soon after. We didn't
hang about for long, I jumped on and the downhill track brought us back
to the car remarkably quickly.
We were back at the car, but I still wasn't warm. More comfortable to
stand with wet clothes, it took some courage to strip off wet jackets
and boots, soaking socks containing sore feet. When the rest arrived
back, we put the bikes on the cars and headed back to Laggan.
Other Thoughts
The vast majority of what is written focuses on the extreme
discomfort of this walk. In no way I exaggerate, but a lot of the walk
took place under very atmospheric conditions which deserves a mention.
The picture of An Lairig catches my attention especially, which sums up
the mystique of Scottish mountains especially well. These hills in this
weather showed the craggy summits hidden in cloud, lowering in great
walls to empty glens of heather and grass. Magnificence and emptiness
are two words especially synonymous with the Scottish mountains.
But the cold was very hard to deal with. When we got back to the hut,
the warmth of the bunkhouse was so welcomed. That night we went to the
hotel in Balgowan and sat among coach parties until they closed up. The
previous night had been a bit better - we went to Newtonmore and had
some games of pool in one of it's pubs, (and I saw the cliffs of Creag
Dhubh for the first time, too) All in all it was a good weekend - the
pubs are just the bit in between the walking!
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