We had wanted to park at the end of the Glen Nevis road but it was closed for repair from Achriabhach so we started from there, looking to go up the nearest ridge. Off the road and onto a boggy, peaty, heavily eroded path which went gently but steadily up the valley. It split frequently making you think you were leaving the main path but met itself again shortly - a really badly eroded path. No problem in knowing where we were headed as the summit area is obvious, a great white cap. The problem was how to get there. Did the path we were on lead up or should we go up the ridge on the left? At yet another junction we headed up towards the ridge having reckoned that was the way to go. As it was there was no problem as the pathway was clear and went up and up seemingly in the direction we wanted. And got steeper and steeper. After what seemed a long way up and over a bump the path became a stalkers path with great
zigzags which helped some of the climb. The view was getting better and better looking round Ben Nevis down the glen to Fort William. As we got higher one of the three walkers behind us was catching up on us and eventually when we sat down for some juice he reached us. He was moaning like mad about his companions who he said, despite being much younger than him were being a drag and were way behind. We had a nice chat, an Englishman working somewhere in the N.E. (Forres I think) in a meteorology office.
Shortly we came to the quartz cap which turned out to be great quartzite boulders. No problem in clambering over them but there was in fact an artificial built path threading through them. Why they made a path I don't know. I doubt if the rocks could have suffered the erosion the path itself has created. Gradually the path made its way very close to the edge of the summit ridge and slightly hairy but straightforward. Then to the summit for a break.
From the summit we could now see the devil's ridge, looking just as formidable as the books had described. My feeling was the same as it had been at Maol Chinn-dearg which was one of apprehension but that the sooner we got on with it the better. At least the weather was now clear and glorious although that same peculiar wind we had met on the Glen Shiel ridge was here as well. This meant occasional periods of mini gales. I made no bones of the fact that if a wind blew up on the ridge I would go down on my knees - I was taking no chances.
Not much to look at as a mountain, to us this was simply the goal we were aiming for, it was the devil's ridge intervening that was the problem. Moving down onto it was straightforward. The path is surprisingly clear (although this is obvious from photos), about eighteen inches wide and the left side very steep, the right a bit better. At first you feel a bit unsure and hesitant but you soon realise that there's no problem, certainly not in good weather. Down the cleft we reached the point where the book suggests some might care for the safety of a rope. Why, I don't know. It looked straightforward and it was. A
simple climb along a narrow ledge, up a couple of feet and you are there. Perhaps they mean winter for a rope. A bit of an anti-climax here. After this it got increasingly hairy for me and going over a couple of bumps on the way to Stob Choire a'Mhail I really was hesitant. One thing I have discovered, much to my surprise, is that it is less hairy going down than up. You would think it worse going down when you can see a great drop ahead of you but I don't find it so. My problem, as here, is that when you are going up a narrow crest with precipitous slopes on both sides you dare not look down and so you see sky ahead of you. Your imagination then tells you there are horrendous drops ahead, behind and to the side and you worry about what's on the other side of the crest. The second bump was the worst and at times I was stooping so much my fingers were touching the ground, just like a monkey. It didn't help that the wind had blown up and I had to stop a couple of times till it cleared. Didn't seem to bother Graeme though as he went ahead.
Standing on the crest of this bump gave me a great sense of satisfaction. Despite my nervousness I was halfway across the ridge and quite confident of doing the rest. Stob Choire a'Mhail looked awkward but was relatively easy though as I remember it got sharp towards the top. It was somewhere around here I had a galling experience. I am struggling nervously up through boulders on the crest when along comes a young lad, only about fourteen, open necked shirt and jeans, blissfully strolling along the crest with his hands in his pockets. He was followed shortly by his dad, better attired but almost as confident. Really makes you feel inadequate.
After this the route became easy, grassy slopes finally leading up to Sgor an Iubhair, where we had lunch and a welcome Guinness [Stella Artois for Graeme as per usual]. Looking back at where we had climbed was magic, thinking how great it was we had done it. Had an interesting chat with a guy, a teacher, who was very coy about where he came from. He had done over 500 munros and when asked why he was doing them again said "Because I enjoyed doing them so much the first time." Fair enough!
Coming off Sgor an Iubhair was not easy - at least not for me. The way off was by a path at the other side of the summit. It went down steeply for about ten feet then disappeared over an edge. How steep it was beyond there was not for us to say. Even the ten feet visible path was quite exposed. At this time too the wind had built up to its semi gale mode and I elected to wait till it calmed down. Graeme didn't bother - he just went straight over. I must have waited there at least five minutes and the wind did not drop one iota, but I could not get up the courage to brave it. It wasn't the prospect of a steep drop that bothered, it was just that awful wind. Eventually Graeme reappeared wondering what had happened to me and telling me it was not that bad. Whether it was his words or the fact that the wind did appear to abate a little I made the effort and went over the edge. That in fact turned out to be the most difficult part as after that it became
a very steep path down but threading through boulders with plenty of handholds. Again I had that feeling of more security in looking down a couple of hundred feet than looking up.
The rest of the walk from here to Am Bodach was as I recall fairly uneventful, though I kept wondering just how bad the path on the other side was going to be. Muriel Gray in her book on Munros claimed to have more problems with this than the devil's ridge. She climbed from the other direction, complained that the path was dangerously full of small stones, extremely exposed (she claimed to see a crow flying under her) and said she suffered bad vertigo. A chap on Sgor an Iubhair had said it was simply an eroded path but the thought of it was giving me the heeby-jeebies. Reached the summit with no problem, the rock is very much a red colour here.
Whilst worrying about the path down from Am Bodach we had a good look at the next peak and that was not promising. A very steep rocky climb the whole way looking as if the rocky ridge got sharper and sharper as you neared the summit. Very daunting. As to the path down this was reasonably exciting but a bit of an anticlimax after what I had expected. It was very eroded and steep (not unlike the way off Sgor an Iubhair) but no great problem and certainly lacked the exposure and vertigo effect felt by Muriel Gray. Perhaps my head for heights was improving or more likely it was again the effect of looking down rather than up. The view ahead, however, gave no pleasure as the slope of the next summit seemed to get steeper, rockier and sharper the closer we got. At the bottom of Am Bodach we passed two girls who warned us about An Garbhanach. "Just wait till you get on the ridge over there, then you will see what
wind is like." Less and less was I beginning to relish the remainder of this walk, especially the thought of a high wind on the sharp ridge up to Stob Choire a'Chairn.
The first part of the climb now to Stob Choire a'Chairn was steep with a feeling of exposure and did not look too good ahead although we could see climbers way up high and they did not look to be having too many problems. It was also breezy but then quite suddenly we moved into an area of large boulders and much of the exposure feeling went, as did the wind. The path was a bit fainter but Graeme stormed off ahead and soon disappeared. I was not too happy at this as I was distinctly nervous and liked the assurance given when I could see him ahead. However, I bravely went forward and almost walked over the edge of a cliff. All of a sudden the path (what little there was) ended at a sheer drop of hundreds of feet. Where do I go from here? Am I supposed to climb the cliff face on the left to a better area? Did Graeme go this way? I shouted for him but got no answer and decided to backtrack in case I had actually missed the proper path. I had! About ten feet back I saw markings on a large rock and a distinct path beyond and getting over onto this I met Graeme coming round to see where I was. After that the climb was good but not quite as exposed as seemed from the bottom. The path seemed to take routes that protected you from full exposure, although there were plenty of scrambling opportunities for those who just wished to go straight up the middle. It was nice to reach the top though, a sense of achievement and pleasing to see, looking back, that from this angle Am Bodach looked quite forbidding.
Between Stob Choire a'Chairn and An Gearanach is a top called An Garbhanach which is really just a sharp, slabby ridge. From Stob Choire a'Chairn it did not look too bad although there was a very sharp descent and then yet another sharp, steep ascent - we were getting used to these by now. Getting to the bottom and looking up at what you have just come down gives you almost as much satisfaction as reaching a top. In fact on some of these descent slopes when you look back you wonder how anyone could actually climb them. Funny how perspectives change. Going up An Garbhanach gave Graeme some more opportunity to scramble and nearing the top, and indeed over the top, he just went straight over the boulders. I stuck to the path which on the ridge was itself quite hairy edging around some mighty steep slopes and involving a lot of boulder climbing. But it was by far the most enjoyable part of the day, probably because I was by now becoming so used to walking in exposed areas. In fact at one
point I crossed some slabs without even thinking of what I was doing, but later Graeme told me that was one of the areas that had given him concern, as the slabs sloped off into nowhere. Against this there was one point where Graeme had scrambled and just at the point where our paths again met he crossed a rock buttress where you had to use foot and handholds to get across the rock face. It was only about six feet across and Graeme did it without thinking. However, from my angle I could see that there was precious little under the buttress for about a thousand feet. Knowing I had no choice but to cross I did it without any trouble as the foot and handholds were very secure, but I found it a dicey moment. Certainly to me that was a far worse move than the so called "rope" move on the devil's ridge.
After this the going got progressively easier until we reached the summit of An Gearanach. Had my second Guinness here, specially reserved for the last Munro of the holiday (No.18), then Graeme and I shook hands and made for the descent. This was quite clear with a strong path and no problem in coming down, apart from weariness. Eventually we arrived down in the Upper Glen Nevis which is really picturesque. However,the last lap to the car was diabolical.
