Marhofn 153.08 - May 2006

Baglogs: Men Bagging Madly:

Men Bagging Madly: Roderick Manson (+59=1071)

Having completed the Donalds some years ago, I have resisted a headlong plunge towards completion of the SMC lists, but in 2005 an assault on the remaining 94 summits resulted in an orgy of twelve big walks of more than ten hours. Here are some edited highlights:

• I was pretty done-in when I reached Poolewe to start the Easter walk, but a clear night with a full moon was just too good an opportunity to miss, so off I set. After a fantastic meteorite sighting over A'Mhaigdean, it wasn't until the bealach that the cloud came down and things began to go awry. I arrived later than anticipated on Beinn Lair, and later still on Meall Mheinnidh, but on Beinn Airigh Charr I took a wrong heading and found myself a few hundred feet above Loch Maree. Instead of being sensible and dropping down to the path along the shore, I contoured round the many folds of the hill, and finally staggered back to the car over 17 hours after setting out.
• Having set out to do the Clach Glas traverse to Bla Bheinn, I found I was too tired to cope with the exposure, so I dropped down a scree gully to the corrie 600 metres below, then up the tourist route to Bla Bheinn and on to the desired south-west top, simply to confirm that I had climbed it before. A great day, despite galloping feartieness and exasperation. Back at Dornie, and a little drained, after traversing too far beyond Beinn Killilan, I finally found the steep craggy outcrop which led to Sguman Coinntich. This ended 40 hours of walking over the four-day period.
• In late April I took the long walk along Loch Ericht, over Beinn Bheoil and Ben Alder. The visibility was only marred by a patch of cloud at precisely the wrong moment, obscuring the Ben Alder cornices. The walk out however was decidedly painful, due to a three-inch blister across my heel. Much ouchness.
• In late May, with Brian Ringland, I headed from Glen Sheil over Sgurr na Sgine and Sgurr a'Bhac Chaolais to Buidhe Bheinn (through a fairly intense blizzard) and down to Glen Arnisdale, where I fell in my second river in two days. The first ducking was in a tributary of the Red Burn after we got washed off the Bhasteir Tooth in torrential rain.
• Strathan (Loch Arkaig) was the start of a 3000m climb over Sgurr Mhurlagain, Fraoch Bheinn, Sgurr Cos na Breachd Laoidh and Bidein a'Chabair. Despite the challenging slabs down to Glen Dessary at the end of the day, the sunburn and the water shortage, it was enjoyable nevertheless, which is more than I can say for the walk out from Croit Bheinn (18A), over wet duck boards on an extended bog, which was sheer purgatory. After rest and a train trip from Fort William to Mallaig, I tackled the three Marilyns to the south of the Cona Gleann in Ardgour, which was fine until walking the rough track back, which messed up my feet. Fortunately I was still able to do the Grey Corries the next day, and Garbh Bheinn (18B) via the north-east corrie the day after, but by then I was pretty bushed. After a rest day, the next objective was Ben Aden, via the Garbh Chiochs and Sgurr na Ciche, returning back up the north ridge of Sgurr na Ciche. Predictably, the going was very rough, but at least the rain held off until I was descending into Glen Dessary where, much to my delight, I nearly stumbled over a fawn at about 900m. Two days later I walked virtually the length of Glen Pean, a wonderful distillation of mountain and loch, although the magic paled a little as I picked my way over the boulder fields of An Stac (10D). The return was more testing, with a full-length traverse of Carn Mor. I might have avoided Monadh Gorm (478m) at the east end if, instead of 'uninspiring', the SMC district guide had said 'rife with clegs, midges and peat hags'. The Lochailort Corbetts the next day were less enjoyable, due to an injured ankle. The good part was that the torrential rain didn't arrive until two minutes after I reached the car.
• Two weeks later I traversed the north side of Glen Kingie (10B). The weather was intensely stuffy, and the unsettling sight of a corpulent middle-aged couple walking along in their underwear still haunts me. On my return a touch of cramp distracted my attention, and twice in ten minutes I plunged knee deep into stinking bog. Sgurr a'Mhaoraich the next day was a pleasant dawdle by comparison.
• The next week, starting from Victoria Bridge, I headed through Glen Kinglass for Beinn nan Lus (3C), Ben Starav and Beinn nan Aighenan. The nearby Glas Bheinn Mhor made a good separate day from Glen Etive.



Ben Starav and Beinn Trilleachan (Photo: Trevor Littlewood)

• The loch-side trudge to the east end of Sgurr a'Choire-bheithe (10B) was arduous in heavy rain and cold winds. I held out for an hour before digging out a thermal sweatshirt, only to find the ancient and dilapidated rucksack was less waterproof than a teabag, and the sweatshirt was sodden. Still, it was all I had, so on it went for the next seven hours or so, as I crossed Slat Bheinn and wandered raggedly out the way I'd come. I was not aware that over half the skin on my torso was being rubbed agonisingly raw, sending me well into the soprano range in the shower that night. The next day I withdrew, whimpering disconsolately, to Pitlochry to buy a rucksack from Rod Munro.
• At Succoth in October I set out for The Cobbler in 40-mph winds. This was testing, but thankfully the wind was pushing me away from the drop on the summit ledge, and I felt it prudent to merely set my knee on the summit. Having ignored the south peak in the increasing wind, I cut off the south ridge on to Beinn Narnain. This was fine until near the top, where the wind was straight in my face and had increased to over 70 mph, dissuading me from attempting the traverse to A'Chrois. Beinn Buidhe (1D) was worse. The wind had rain added, and having struggled over Ceann Garbh (CTM) on the ascent, I came down the tourist route. I slipped so many times that the liquid mud got inside my trousers, and I waddled back down Glen Fyne like Charlie Chaplin.
• In December, surprisingly clear and dry weather blessed the traverse of Buachaille Etive Mor from Dalness, giving wonderful views and a renewed sense of well-being. Obviously this was not going to last, and the next day was purgatory incarnate. After denting the door of my car on an unseen low boulder, I followed the narrow, well-defined ridge running up the west flank of the northern corrie of Stob Dubh to ensure that I did not miss the summit in the mist, sleet and penetratingly cold winds. Worryingly, the last few hundred metres were steep and precarious on a fresh bed of thin wet snow. Matters were not improved when I became confused on top, and followed a ridge down to Glen Ceitlein to escape the fierce summit conditions.
• I saw in the new year on the top of Schiehallion again, with my inspirational reading of Norman MacCaig's 'Landscape and I' to a totally absent audience. I went a little too far south in descending the west ridge for a full traverse, and eventually found the estate track on the west side of the Tempar Burn. I had overlooked the fact that the road at the west end was the better part of 300m lower than the car park, and I arrived back at my car at 04:27. I decided to forgo another walk that day on the grounds of physical incapacity.