Coast 4

I can't remember how well I slept, but I must have after the rotten two nights previously. Certainly my knee was not giving me any problem in the night though was stiff and a bit sore in the morning. The knee bandage helped as did Roy's pills and I can't say it gave me too many problems. Roy however (Mr Disaster man) had another problem - he had split his pants. I had needle and thread but he didn't seem interested. Still it was one way to get a tan. Awake in the morning and the rustlings in the night became evident when a mouse ran under the bench. I suppose you can't help but have them there. Doubling the amount of water did not seem to thin the porridge much though admittedly you did have to use a spoon this time. Still it filled a gap. Well actually as well as filling the gap it sealed all the entrances to and from the stomach, silted up the gullet and helped fortify all my loose fillings. Graeme stuck to soup.

Up and away, the weather good and getting better all the time, the two lads just getting up and moving into the kitchen as we left. About 200 yards up the road I realised I had left my stick behind and went back. The girl faced one was in the room and it took me a minute to find the stick which someone had put up by the window. I passed a pleasantry with the girl/boy and was rewarded with a vacant stare and a grunt. I wondered if he/she was all there. Back on the track to a pleasant. easy stroll, gently upwards moving towards Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair. We eventually reached a ruined cottage where we had our morning break. I assumed it was just an old ruin but later learned that it was a collapsed bothy. Glad I wasn't there when that happened.

Up till now we had no idea where we were going to climb. The books made the outlying ridge of Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair seem horrendous (Sgurr Dubh) and we wanted to have a look before deciding. We were either going to do this or walk further up the glen and go across Beinn a'Chlaidheimh but in the end we did neither. As we climbed into the corrie we could see the big slabby bits the books mentioned and the way up the Mullach was obvious. I think we all more or less however decided it might be easier just to go up the middle mountain, Sgurr Ban.

The initial route was up and down the usual boggy land but once over this we climbed straight up the slabs. Actually it was like climbing up a waterfall as a river was flowing down the middle of the slabs. Roy was very nervous at first as it did look a bit hairy going up a steep, slabby route which might have been slippery. It wasn't, however, and it made for the easiest climbing we had had to date. Half way up, looking back at the path we could see the two lads wending their way. At the top of the slabs the burn and the way turned into a very bouldery little ravine. Not difficult but rough on the boots as you boulder hopped your way up. Quite tiring but you gain height fast and we were soon heading off up on to the ridge leading to the top. It was rocks all the way. This mountain is totally made up of small boulders. I have never come across such a bouldery mountain. Up and up, boulder to boulder and the occasional slabs. Stopped halfway up for lunch (soup and energy bar) and admired the view over Sgurr Dubh. The pinnacles leading to the Mullach really are pinnacles and looked really fierce, though they were probably very interesting. On and upwards, a straightforward climb although on boulders all the way, with the others going miles ahead of me. Towards the top was a large snow field which when you bypassed it gave you the impression of walking alongside a sheer cliff edge.

The summit was nothing special, just a cairn on top of a stony bump. The other side, the way down was just as stony but here I was in my element and went tearing ahead of the others. A bit dodgy as a slip could be dangerous but I find stones easier than grass. Within a short period I found myself down at a cairn which had been built like an igloo and had room for a couple of people to shelter. Roy added a few stones to it. I don't know if this is an English peculiarity but they always seem to want to build or add to cairns. This is fine on summits but I reckon that all the other cairns dotted around are built by English. The Scots don't seem to bother. Perhaps it's some inbred thing that they have to make these pointy things everywhere they go.

It was here we had our first argument. I wanted to continue over the col and cross over Beinn a"Chlaidheimh. Graeme said he had no energy and refused to go. I was all for going myself, leaving pack at the col and Roy said he would come, though it was clear he would only come to keep me company. In the end after ranting and raving I agreed to abandon this hill for another day and go off down the col. What a pity, it looked so easy. A quick rest, and a display of jets flying all over, down the glen. This led me to notice Beinn Dearg Mor which is a magnificent looking mountain and appears to be a fierce climb. Unfortunately it is not a munro so yet another excellent mountain we will miss out on, unless we treat ourselves.

Coming off the col to get down into the glen was easier said than done. First we had to descend sharply to a lochan. Graeme went down the steepest part but I copped out of this and went down a less steep part. Roy copped out of this and found a less steep part. Down at the lochan I got a call of nature. Having a crap al fresco is not the pleasantest of tasks at the best of times but at the bottom of a cliff, wondering if anyone is going to appear at the cliff edge is not my idea of heaven. It did not help that I was going through the stage we all went through, that of the gippy tummy. I think Roy and Graeme must have thought I had got stuck to the ground I was that long. So much for power bars.

The climb down from here has to have been about the worst I have ever experienced. It was craggy, rocky, very slippery and muddy - really awful. At one point I saw a tiny frog and as I bent down to look at it my leg went down a hole. I fell forward in slow motion thinking to myself I was about to break my leg. As it was my leg came free but as I fell I headed a boulder and dazed myself. Graeme was instantly there, a bit concerned as my forehead apparently was covered in blood. It was, however, only a graze and apart from a slight headache I was fine. Graeme cleaned it with an antiseptic wipe and it soon scabbed over. It was what you might call a good wound. It was only a graze but so obvious that everyone who saw it had to ask what happened. Made me feel like a hero. By the time we got to the bottom we were very tired and yet when we looked back at the route we had descended it looked quite easy and straightforward. I tell you though it was not.

The bottom was our reward. A beautiful glen with a river and pleasant green banks. A view of An Teallach in full magnificence at one end and Beinn Tarsuinn at the other end. The weather at the end of the day ( six o'clock by now) was sunny and perfect and the knowledge that we were miles from any road or habitation made this idyllic. Certainly one of the prettiest places I have ever been. As we were so tired we decided to have our evening meal here rather than wait till the bothy. Horrible Raven food again but a paddle in the burn to ease our swollen feet made up for that. The path we wanted started on the other side of the river about half a mile upstream but by the time we got level with it found the river was too wide to cross. Downstream we went thinking that we would find stepping stones but every time the stream narrowed the bits between the stones became too deep, swift and difficult. Eventually Graeme got fed up and started to cross at a wide but shallower point. He looked to be having trouble so Roy and myself went further down and eventually found a place to cross. Even then it was not easy. I slipped towards the end and ran through the water to the bank. Miraculously no water got inside my boots. Roy was not so lucky as he slipped in about halfway across and ended up paddling across. When we met Graeme he admitted he too had had to end up paddling. At least we were over. The path was initially a bit boggy but as we moved round under Beinn Dearg Mor into the glen leading to Carnmore it became very firm and pleasant.

It was about this point I began to thank Graeme for refusing to go up Beinn a'Chlaidheimh. We were knackered as it was and time was getting on. Heaven knows how we would have been if we had added that mountain. The path from here to Carnmore bothy is undoubtedly the most beautiful I have ever walked. It was just unfortunate I was so tired I could not fully appreciate it and it will be worth another visit someday. At first it slowly winds its way up to the head of the glen getting ever more steep as it goes over the top of the glen. We met a couple coming the other way, the first we had seen since the morning. What amazed us was that one of them was kind of hopping, dancing and skipping his way down. He told us they had just climbed the "big six" and were on their way to Shenevall. To think we were exhausted after only doing one of the "big six" and yet they could skip after doing them all. Up and over the pass with marvellous views back towards An Teallach and then on to a path going across what I can only describe as a peat desert. The mountains had diminished in the distance and almost as far as you could see was like a plain of peat. There was a real feeling of being in the middle of nowhere and if you had left the path it would have been so easy to get lost. At times Roy and Graeme were a good quarter of a mile ahead of me and in dips they disappeared altogether. With a sort of dusk coming in ( it never got dark) there was a marvellous feeling of really being alone. Just a pity I was so tired that it was one foot in front of the other and hope to keep going. Eventually the mountains started to come back in and hang over us as the path entered a deep valley and began to descend. I gained energy from this, speeded up and gradually overtook Roy who was really in trouble from his rucsac. It was chafing him and he was a hero to be bearing up with it. Neither of us had any chance of catching Graeme who was at least half a mile off, though he stopped to allow us to reach him. After a short rest, these were becoming more and more frequent, we reached a point where the glen opened out and gave us a quite magnificent view. The sun was at the point just before setting and below us we could see two lovely lochs unfolding in the evening sun and the scenery disappearing into the sun. The path steepened considerably here but it was downhill and the last lap. A house appeared and as it was empty we thought it was the bothy although it looked a bit neat and tidy for that. Also it had iron bars on the windows and as the doors were locked we guessed it could not be the place. Afterwards we found out it was where the stalkers stay in the Autumn. Looking down the path we could see a shed and supposed that must be it. Sure enough a head popped out and waved us down. The time was 10.30 and we had started the day at 8.30 in the morning. Fourteen hours! - and that without Beinn a'Chlaidheimh.

The shed turned out to be a stable, as used for the horses in the stalking season. If we had thought Lochivraon a dump, it was a palace compared to this. It was filthy, with an earth floor strewn with a few plastic sheets, mainly split survival bags. It was literally a long stable about 30 feet long and 15 wide. The guy who had waved to us was a climber from Glasgow and they had their gear all laid out in the bottom half. His companion was also quite friendly and they were cooking a meal when we arrived. Real food they were eating. What they had done was come in from Poolewe absolutely loaded up with climbing gear and tins of food. Once at the bothy they stayed there for about three days leaving everything there as if it were a camp. Their intention was to climb the steep, difficult rocks behind the bothy, selecting the most difficult routes possible. Both were experienced bothy men but described Carnmore as shitty. It really was. They said that the owners of the estate did not like walkers and climbers and discouraged camping outside the bothy. They had even been known to cut guy ropes. If true it must have been during the stalking season when walkers should not really be there anyway.

Graeme again was for camping outside but I was so tired I only wanted to get my head down anywhere - and this really was anywhere. We eventually parked ourselves at the top of the stable and made coffee. About this time the strange couple arrived. We had in fact seen them behind us on the path before reaching the bothy and had chatted briefly to the talkative one. They did not even bother to think about the bothy but pitched their tent outside. They were, I think, even more tired than us and the exertions of the previous day had killed them. Today they had stuck to the low level path going from Lochavraion to Shenevall and down to Carnmore but were still dead on their feet. Although very tired I got very little sleep. The climbers had a late start in the morning so were in no hurry to bed down. They talked and talked and it was not until some loud throat clearing was done by Roy that they shut up. Even then one of them had flatulence problems. Problems for us that is, didn't seem to be a problem to him. When it got quiet we could hear scuttling behind us but did not want to look in case we saw anything. I say we because Roy was also having trouble sleeping and I'm not sure Graeme didn't either. Eventually about 3.00 I was just beginning to doze when an elbow in my ribs woke me up. Some time later as I went off again I again got the same. It was Roy digging me because I was snoring. He said I had been snoring for about an hour before he dug me but I did not even feel I had fallen asleep. When I took him up on this in the morning ( he had not realised I was aware of it ) Graeme chipped in by saying Roy had been snoring just as bad. Whatever it ruined any chance at all of sleep as every time I started to doze off I kept expecting another dig and this woke me up again.