The Seven Day Itch
James Carron feels insanity beckon as rain and midges conspire to thwart
his plans to bag all the Munros between Fort William and Dalwhinnie. Will he
succeed? Read on...
Long distance routes are all the rage. The ever-popular West Highland Way
attracts thousands of trekkers each year, braving the midges and the elements as
they hot foot it from Glasgow to Fort William. All around the UK the picture is the same, from the Cornwall
Coast Path in the bottom corner of the country to the most northerly national
trail, the Speyside Way. Waymarkers are fine. But there's no reason why you shouldn't create your very
own long distance pathway to pleasure. With a handful of maps and a spot of
research you can set the agenda, and leave the crowds behind. I did just that, creating my own West Highland way from Fort William to
Dalwhinnie. The route would lead me through some of Scotland's most
gloriously remote country and because I was planning the line my walk would take I could go just where I wanted.
Day 1: Setting off from Fort William on a July afternoon, my lift
deposited me in the car park at the top end of the public road in Glen Nevis.
Picnic people eye me up with something verging on curious suspicion as I hoist
my weighty pack aloft. I bade farewell to the world and set off up the tourist path into Upper Glen
Nevis, praying my rucksack wouldn't throw me off balance as I negotiate the slippery rocks
above the tumbling Water of Nevis in the deep gorge far below.
The day walkers dried up as the path cut through a rocky gateway to emerge on the
flat, tranquil plain of grass below An Gearanach. The sun was still out and a few
foolhardy folk were trying their luck on the wire bridge spanning the river to the
wee bothy below the stunning Steall waterfall.
I paused by the tumble-down remains of an old cottage at Steall a little further
on and savoured a Mars Bar before tackling the long drag ahead. It was hard going
on out-of-condition legs and lungs and the pack was weighing uncomfortably on my
shoulders and back. I planned to pitch camp just beyond the tiny hummock of Tom an Eite and as I skirted her flanks I
spot a Vango Force 10 tucked down by the burn. It was comforting to know I was
not alone in this
wilderness.
As I left the Water of Nevis and swapped allegiance to the meandering Abhainn
Rath my heart dipped slightly as I find company has its drawbacks - someone has
taken the glen's prime campsite, a flat grassy plain nestling in a loop of the river. I pressed on a short
way to find an airy spot above a small waterfall.
My home for the week was a Phoenix Phlighter, a one-man tent in green nylon
with an A-frame upfront. However, in my rush to get away, I'd woefully
under-estimated my tent peg requirement, so was forced to fashion some replacements from bog wood and
items of
cutlery I could probably live without. Supper was
experimental - Wayfarer meals, my first time. I scooped out the sloppy contents
of a silver foil bag and, after a thorough heating and some trepidation, found
my tastebuds pleasantly tickled.
It was too late to tackle the first Munros on my agenda, Stob Coire an Laoigh,
Stob Choire Claurigh and Stob Ban, all arranged in a huge horseshoe above me
with a winding ridge of tops in between. So I gathered more bog wood and light a small fire to keep the
midges at bay.
First up was
Sgurr Choinnich Mor on the left and then I backtracked to the col to climb Stob Coire Easain. The mist
cleared briefly but clamped down all
too quickly and I resorted to compass bearings over the rocky ridge to Stob Coire an
Laoigh and Stob Choire Claurigh. The compass took me a little too far right on the descent and I ended up
clambering down over a boulder field before re-adjusting my route to hit the top
of Stob Ban. Still no view. I dropped down into the valley and plodded through wet
grass to the tent where a claggy chocolate pudding awaited. Camp was uprooted at
lunchtime and I headed east through the glen, picking up a path on the north side of the Abhainn
Rath to Meanach bothy where the path became increasingly marshy.
The early uncertainty of the day's weather was soon resolved as heavy gobs of
rain crashed down on my hood. It'll soon pass, I tell myself, fingers crossed once
again. But it worsens and I'm glad to catch some shelter in the bothy at
Staoineag. There's someone staying over - a rolled out sleeping bag and dog-eared Stephen King novel
evidence of
residence. But he or she was out in the hills getting wet.
I waited for the worst of the rain to subside and headed out again. It was still
spitting but the riverside path was a delight and I made good progress down to
Creaguaineach Lodge. It was only 4pm but the midges were biting with vigour and
it was too painful to stop and rest,
even for a second. The original plan was to camp out by Loch Treig and bag Stob Coire Easain
and its pal Stob a'Choire Mheadhoin. But the constant drizzle and midge clouds
were making life too
unpleasant so I pushed on round the end of the loch, cursing the conditions.
My mood is as heavy as the clouds but a chat with another walker lifted my
spirits. He's camping here, so I'm not the only madman in the vicinity. Very
reassuring when I hear twigs snapping in the dead of night!
I wasn'tbrave enough to face the midges and headed on up the track towards
Corrour Station. I scouted out a few potential campsites but the winged warriors
were vicious so I stumbled on to the railway line to take advantage of the level sleepers and lack of
traffic. By now it was time to draw a halt to the day and by sheer
good fortune I found a deserted hut - dry
and insect-free. Heaven!
Day 3: My second full day out dawned dank but there's optimism it will clear
and I set off early for Corrour Station. My chocolate bar supply was going the way of the
tent pegs but I remembered there being a small shop in the house next to the
platform. I find the occupants gone but at the bunkhouse a woman sells me
Crunchies and chilled cans of Coke.
The fizzy drink fuels me on towards Loch Ossian where a group of youth hostel
guests from Germany are busy completing the famous round-the-loch run, diving
into the clear cold water as they pass the finishing post. I leave my kit at the former boathouse
and complete an upland circuit of Beinn na Lap, Carn Dearg and Sgor Gaibhre. The
weather clears and the sun makes a short appearance. Not bad for July!
Day 4: The following day I made a late start and headed on towards Corrour
Shooting Lodge at the far end of the loch. My rucksack is still uncomfortable
and I'm stopping more and more often to rest sore shoulders. At the bridge over the Uisge Labhair I dabbled my feet in
the flow and cook up a large pan of rice, flavoured with a ground-up KitKat.
Heading upstream I'm still grappling with my rucksack straps. Finally I get it
right and the world seems so much brighter, even though the rain's back on. I
contemplate camping by one of the pools at the top of the glen but it's too cold and wet and
I decide to push on over the col. There's a small stone shelter at
the high point and some aircraft remnants scattered about. With the mist down it
feels strangely eerie. A shiver runs down my spine as I drop from Bealach Dubh
and pitch up by the burn. The rain continues through the night and it's no
better in the morning.
There are still hills to climb and I set off back to the bealach, compass
bearings taking me through the mist on to Geal Charn, Aonoch Beag and Beinn
Eibhinn. The cloud lifts briefly as I leave the summit of Aonach Beag and the
view to Beinn Eibhinn and into the craggy coire on her east face is spectacular,
if short-lived. From the third top, I descend south towards the Uisge Labhair
and eat lunch in the stones of an old cottage. I'm so damp I spend an hour or so
getting even wetter building a dam across the river.
Returning to the tent in time for supper, the sun plays another short cameo
role so I head up to a high waterfall above my campsite and scrub off the day's
sweat. There may only be cold water, but it's a power-shower with one of the
finest views in the country.
The rain is on again so I bagged myself up with an Alistair MacLean paperback and
escaped to a world of wartime adventure and espionage until darkness fell.
My hopes of a snug night were soon kicked into touch. I woke at four, gripped in
the teeth of a gale. The back of the tent is taking the brunt of the wind. It's
being pushed down so hard it looks as if an elephant has parked its bum on my little
home. Venturing out in my underwear and cagoule, I found my scant
tent peg collection further decimated and the nylon requesting the all clear
from air-traffic control. I scurried about, pressing more
cutlery into action. Back in my sleeping bag, I had no idea where I'd land. I didn't want to know. I just prayed it wasn't the south end of Loch Treig
again.
Day 5: Miraculously I was still circling below Bealach Dubh when dawn
broke. A quick check revealed no major damage and I could enjoy my breakfast. It
was still wet but I craved Ben Alder and Beinn Bheoil. I tightened the guylines
and headed back up to the col. Again, I entered the mist. How could the weather be so grim for so long, in
July? The answer? I was in Scotland. The compass guided me over rock-strewn hillside
to the trigpoint where I munched an apple in complete silence and tried not to think about the
rotting body of a Frenchman found by climbers in a nearby gully sometime
earlier. It was spine-chilling.
The cloud was so low and the weather so poor I opted against continuing over
Bealach Breabag to Beinn Bheoil and retreated to the tent. I was miserable as I
pulled back the rain-soaked flap and crept in. All I wanted was some sunshine, a
chance to dry off my boots and socks. But it was not to be. I spent another
stormy night below the Ben Alder cliffs, occupying my time reading and
attempting to steam the worst of the moisture off my socks using my gas stove.
But I ended up frying them and stinking the tent out.
Day 6: First thing in the morning I walked down to the sanctuary of Culra
bothy to cook another huge pot of rice and read through some recent newspapers left
to kindle the fire. The rain paused briefly and I set off up Carn Dearg,
following a tiny burn upstream and stuffing fresh blaeberries into my
mouth. Needless to say the top was in cloud and I caught myself throwing hands up to
the heavens. The rains swept back in and the stony summit was unseasonaly cold.
Back at Culra, I had a peak at the neighbouring lodge before returning to the
bothy. I contemplated a night there, but I was damp and sweaty and craved a hot
bath. I left some spare food and headed up the track to Loch Pattack. A couple
of mountainbikers screeched past me and, contemplating the long walk down Loch
Ericht, I envied their two-wheel mobility.
I kicked my heels in Pattack's golden sands for a while and considered returning
to the bothy. Despite the weather, I was reluctant to leave the hills. But I'd
done much of what I set out to achieve. I only wish I'd had a few views to enjoy. Beinn Bheoil eluded me
but I'd return and mount an ascent one day.
The peace of Loch Ericht was rudely shattered by construction work at Ben Alder
Lodge. It was an ambitious project, judging by the snapshots I caught through
gaps in the trees. I was passed repeatedly by works traffic on the lochside road
but no one stopped to offer a soggy walker a lift.
Three miles short of Dalwhinnie I managed to grasp a signal on my mobile
telephone and made arrangements for the transfer home. My lift was only able to
come as far as Perth so I would board the next train south at Dalwhinnie. My
mind quickly consumed itself with the prospect of a juicy chicken salad sandwich
and a hot sweet cup of tea from the buffet trolley. Civilisation, I guess, has some attractions.
The last stretch was easy and, after chatting with some Italians on the
platform, I was
soon squashed in with the suitcases as I made my return, smelly and unshaven but
quite happy to be home.
Day 7: Hot bath and bed!
WALK FACTS - Maps: OS Landranger 1:50,000 sheets 41 and 42
and Harveys 'Ben Nevis'. Munros accessible from the route: Ben Nevis, An
Gearanach, Binnean Beag, Aonach Beag and Aonach Mor, Stob Coire an Laoigh, Stob
Choire Claurigh and Stob Ban, Stob Coire Easain and Stob a'Choire Mheadhoin,
Beinn na Lap, Carn Dearg (Loch Ossian) and Sgor Gaibhre, Beinn Eibhinn and
Aonach Beag, Geal Charn, Carn Dearg (Culra), Ben Alder and Beinn Bheoil.
Accommodation: SYHA hostels at Glen Nevis and Loch Ossian. Bunkhouse at Corrour
Station. Open bothies at Meanach, Straoineag and Culra. B&Bs in Dalwhinnie.
Transport: ScotRail services to Fort William, Corrour and Dalwhinnie. Scottish
Citylink bus services to Fort William and Dalwhinnie.