Winter Holiday Part 4: Aonach Mor Learning Curve

Its the final installment of the trip and Wally and I were "starting" to feel more than a little tired.  I work in the hills, and am used to getting out there day after day but in winter the physical commitment required hits a whole new level and I'm filled with admiration for the MICs and Guides who keep at it in all sorts of weather and still enthuse and inspire their clients.
To keep it gentle on our tired legs we headed up to Aonach Mor via the Gondola on the 12th.  I've climbed a bit on the wild West Face of the hill, but I've never been all the way round to the East Face and looked at the climbs in Coire an Lochain. Of course, this year I'm laying off the climbing to concentrate on my winter walking, but the centre of the face is split by Easy Gully, a grade 1, and perfect ground for practicing emergency winter ML rope work in a realistic situation.

Traversing under the climbs in Coire an Lochain, Aonach Mor. 

Looking up Easy Gully. The cornice had a decent sized slot just to the left of the buttress.

 Looking down Easy Gully, a dense mist rolled around the coire all day and occasionally spilled on to the plateau. 

On the plateau in the mist.  We lingered for a while and looked at snow belays such as buried axes and stompers. 

 Unfortunately while were were on the plateau, we became aware of a drama unfolding in the coire below as a climber had fallen. A Sea King helicopter was in and out of the area several times, with some impressive flying in the swirling mist. The man was airlifted to hospital. I'm happy to say that although he was seriously injured, we've since learned from the UK Climbing Forums that he will be ok.

A magical brockenspectre forming on the mist.

The follwing day, with legs like lead, but knowing that we had not spent enough time looking at snow anchors we decided to head back to Aonach Mor.  Strong winds were forecast, so  we planned a quick foray in to the Nid area, and then a trip back down on the gondola in time for lunch.

Snow snow snow....

 Wedged in my bucket.

We managed a quite few pitches up the Nid before we got a bit fed up with the snow plodding, untied and walked back to the gondola station. It wasn't long before we'd talked ourselves in to heading home to Arran that afternoon.  All in all a worthwhile little trip. 

Winter Holiday Part 3: Anticyclonic Gloom

How can you top a three day hike on and around Braeriach in pristine weather and conditions? The answer is, you can't and even after a wee rest, the "anticyclonic gloom" forecasted so ably by MWIS settled and it was a little bit of a comedown. However, we were on a logbook mission, and the weather wasn't that bad, so we had a couple of munro/navigation days around the Roybridge/Meagaidh area.
On day 1, (10th Feb) we headed up the track to Coire Ardair in misty and mild weather, to climb the Window and come back over the top of Stob Poite Coire Ardair and Carn Liath.

 The lochain in the coire was still frozen, but it was clear that a general thaw was taking place.

 Wet but fairly stable snow persisted on the north side of the window, on the other side, much of it had been stripped already. There was lots of avalanche debris below the crags around the window, where cornices had been tumbling.

 On to the ridge of Stob Poite Coire Ardair. We took advantage of the misty weather to practice our navigation around the tops of the coires and gullies on either side. 

On the second day, similar mild and gloomy weather hung low in the glen.  We headed up Stob a Coire Mheadhoin from Fersit- this time on the west side of Loch Treig. We'd seen this peak in all its glory from Stob Coire Sgriodain the week before (see Part 1). Today it was a different mountain, brown, and boggy, with patches of snow clinging on to coire rims and the steep north ridge.

 The north ridge of Stob a Coire Mheadhoin. Spot the two red deer on the horizon!

 Steep snow on the north ridge. 

 Despite being a ridge, it was another good place to work on the nav skills. 

 There were still some wicked cornices hanging on to the scarp slopes. 

 Looking across to the next munro, Stob Coire Easain. This had originally been part of our plan, but the "anticyclonic gloom" wasn't doing much for our motivation, so we decided to have a bit of fun instead and practice our shelter building. 

Working on a "shovel up" a wee snow shelter built around our rucksacks that were shoved in a survival bag.  The snow was piled on top, and the sacks eventually removed leaving a little howf big enough for a person (just!). 

Who says you can't have fun on a wet mizzly day in the hills?

Winter Holiday Part 2: Braeriach, Cairn Toul and Sgor Gaoith

Part 2 is what it is all about for me- this mountain climbing thing- one of those trips where you know there is nowhere else on Earth you would rather be than where you are right now. Fine weather, great conditions and stunning mountains coincided in a shining three day expedition on and around the Braeriach Plateau.

Day 1 gave very little hint of the stellar days to come. We set off from Loch an Eilein in drizzle, sheltering amongst the trees of the Rothiemurchus estate, until we emerged at the entrance to Glen Einich where a gloomy mist hung low over the peaks. We stopped for a bite and watched a small flock of crested tits feeding in the fringes of the forest. Further up the glen, we dumped our packs at a suitable camp spot, and continued upstream to Loch Einich, a moody lake flanked on all sides by looming cliffs. The rain turned to sleet and then briefly to snow. 

Even in gloomy weather Glen Einich is a dramatic place to be.

Sgor Gaoith and the craggy Cailleach tower over the loch at the head of the glen.

We returned to our bags as dusk drew in to pitch our tent by the burn that flows from the coires on the north side of Braeriach.

Day 2 dawned as misty as the previous day, but the sun began to break through the clouds as we set off. We followed the burn up stream until we could easily gain the ridge of Sron na Lairige

 Once we had gained the shoulder, there were impressive views of Ben Macdui and south into the Lairig Ghru. 

 Braeriach itself is a huge lump that rises up on the west side of the Lairig Ghru. In good visibility it was possible to follow the dramatic rim of the plateau.  In bad vis, hidden gullies and cornices would present serious hazards here. 

 Beyond the summit a vast plateau seems to go on forever. We followed the rim around and over Sgor an Lochain Uaine (The Angel's Peak)

 Eventually as the shadows lengthened we reached the summit of Cairn Toul, guarding the southwestern flank of the Lairig Ghru. 

 We retraced our steps back to Angel's Peak, and descended towards the plateau as the moon rose and the sun set. 

Catching the last rays of sun before dropping down to our camp above the Allt Luineag.

Our second night was a cold one, we camped at over 900m with clear skies.  To keep our water from freezing we heated it up and then used our water bottles as hot-water-bottles in our sleeping bags.  I put my boots in my bivy bag to stop them from freezing too, but the one on the outside still froze solid in the night.  It was quite eerie listening in our tent to what was probably only a gentle breeze whistling over the tops in the silence of the plateau. The moon was almost full and the plateau shimmered in the darkness even in the tent it was quite bright.

Dawn on the plateau. Probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

 Day 2 and we continued to descend in to the maze of rivers and lochains around the Allt Luineag. Unsure of how solid the snow cover would be, we navigated as best we could around the hidden hazards and boggy traps beneath our feet. We had great views back in to Glen Einich.

Climbing up on to Sgor Gaoith,  we watched as an inversion crept slowly over the plateau to our south. It sped up as it crossed the Allt Luineag and spilled in to Glen Einich.  We sped up too!

Beginning our descent from the ridge, looking back towards Sgoran Dubh Mor and Sgoran Dubh Beag. 

We dropped down to Coire Follais, where a path is marked on the 1:25K maps. Its not a great option, as the path is barely visible in places and in others badly eroded above a ravine. The woodland at the bottom was wonderful though! From there it was an easy stomp back to Loch an Eilein and the van.

Winter Holiday Part 1: The Yin and the Yang

Winter conditions followers will find this update too tardy to be of use, but I've just got back from a ten day break walking on the mainland so I'm going to post what I've been up to in nice tasty chunks.  This is from the first couple of days of our trip, and we saw the best and the worst of Scottish winter weather squeezed in to just 36 hours. I have to remind myself that we need the grim days so we can appreciate the blue sky ones!

Friday 3rd of Feb was a cracker, and I've seen photos all over the mountain blogs of blue skies and crisp snowy vistas from this day. We were in Glen Spean, and headed up two Munros to the south of the Glen, above the hamlet of Fersit. The first, Stob Coire Sgriodain, rises up steeply from the bog and overlooks Loch Treig. Its brother, the rounded hump of Chno Dearg, is less spectacular, but easy to take in as part of a pleasant round trip.

Just a little bit of cloud clinging to the crest of Stob Coire Sgriodain, which soon burned off. 

We found a continuous line of good neve in a groove to the left of the crest.  Steep but straightforward and over all too soon. 

Approaching the summit. 

Dazzling views of Loch Treig and the mountains to the west (Stob a Coire Mheadhoin and Stob Coire Easain)

Wally on the summit of Stob Coire Sgriodain.

The rounded hump of Meall Garbh that lies to the south of the two munros turned out to have a steep side with a curly cornice.

Wally on the summit of Chno Dearg which means "red nut" in Gaelic. 

On the second day, with tired legs from the day before and an unfavourable forecast, we decided to head in to the Northern Corries for some skills practice. In Coire an t-Sneachda we found gale force winds and vicious spindrift.  

 Even in full body armour basic tasks were difficult, and visibility was minimal. We stopped at the first deep patch of snow we came to, a pillow of easy angled windslab, and dug a pit to look at the quickly accumulating layers of snow. Then we had a tinker with some snow anchors. A couple of buckets and a snow bollard or two later we'd had enough and packed up. In the hour or so we were burrowing, about 15cm of snow had built up on and around our kit. Scary rates of deposition!

Snow Day on Goatfell

Wally and I rushed back from a recent trip to the Cairngorms with rumours of snow on Arran calling us home. The Cairngorms trip was great- lots of navigation on the plateau, and cold weather with a mixture of clag and sunshine, but snow on the Arran hills is something to be celebrated especially when it comes with a promise of sunshine too.

We took the Goatfell path from Corrie, and continued up in to Coire Lan, emerging on the ridge to the north east of North Goatfell.

There was a fair breeze on the ridge and a lot of fresh snow blowing around.

We skirted underneath North Goatfell and round the side of Stacach ridge.

Ice forming on the buttresses above......

As we neared the summit, the sun started to emerge from the mist. 

The view from Goatfell on a clear day, especially in winter, has to be one of the most spectacular in Scotland.

Walking on the Wild Side: Nightwalking

Another little post from the Arran Voice series I am writing.  This one appeared in December's issue. 

It’s December on Arran, and the wheel of the year is dipping in to the darkest phase. If the weather is good, the low winter sun hits the eyes in cold hard rays, but if the island is shrouded in cloud, light slips in and out of the short days almost unnoticed.  

 

Walking in the mountains at this time of year means preparation, extra equipment and warm clothing.  One of the essentials is a torch. There is a certainty to the darkness in December, and I carry a torch with me now wherever I go. Trying to avoid the darkness cuts short the day and so it is in the dim pre-dawn light that I set out for the hill, and I know that I will return under the cover of dark. The weary trudge out of the glen in the gathering gloom is part and parcel of winter walking, and not always welcome, but the darkness focuses the senses and condenses the experience.  Some of my most intense memories are of the mountains at night.

Mountains have moods, and the same peak can have a hundred different faces depending on the prevailing weather, wind, and time of day. Camping wild and high in the mountains is a great way to feel the changes that come with darkness.  I recall my first mountain camp, two of us pitched by a lake in a lonely cwm on Cadair Idris. As darkness fell we retreated to the warmth of the tent for an early night. Much later I needed to pee, and crawled out of the tent in to the black night.  A mist had fallen, so there were no stars or moon visible, but the beam of my torch picked up the startled eyes of dozens of sheep. Like small green lanterns, they hung in an unblinking circle around our tent, the whirling mist revealing and obscuring each pair of eyes in turn. There was something very creepy about these sheep and fear of their luminous eyes kept me awake until dawn.

Night time is a great time to practise navigation, and the dreaded “Night Nav” is usually a set exercise on Mountain Leader Assessments. My most unpleasant night time mountain experience was one such exercise here on Arran. We set up camp on the shore of Coire Fhionn Lochain, under normal circumstances an idyllic place to spend a night, but on this occasion a storm was raging overhead.  After a hurried tea we went out in to the lashing rain to practice our navigation, heading on to the stony ridge above the coire. The torchlight created a white cocoon of dazzling light around us, beyond which the darkness was intensified and we could see nothing.  Rain soaked in to our clothes, our fingers went numb, and the wind wrestled with us so that we staggered around like drunks trying to feel our way in the dark. It was grim.  A sudden gust of wind snatched the flapping map out of my wet gloves and I watched as it hung in the air just out of arms reach, before being swept off in to the black sky above. I never saw that map again!

By contrast, on a clear but moonless winters night on Ben Macdui a couple of years ago, the stars alone illuminated the glistening white plateau so well we dispensed with our torches and walked by starlight. It was as if the land itself had an inner glow that was reflected back at the Milky Way.  We could see for miles, to the furthest extent of the mountains, where the frosty edge of the Cairngorms dipped down towards the darkness of the Aberdeenshire coast. It was like being on a magic carpet of snow, flying through the sky. On a night like that, the only place to be is roving the hills, on a twinkling island 4,000 feet up while the rest of the world is fast asleep.

The sheer beauty of the mountains at night can be breathtaking and sometimes the darkness brings even bigger surprises. The mysteries of the Cosmos best reveal themselves to the naked eye at night, and being high up in the mountains gets you closer to the action and away from light pollution.  I count myself lucky to have seen the Northern Lights from a mountain top in Norway. However, the one nightwalking experience that I treasure more than any other happened here on Arran just last winter.  Descending from Cir Mhor at dusk with my husband, the sun had set and the sky was a deep velvety blue, still smeared with pink at the horizon.  No need for head torches yet, but the going was tricky in deep snow and slippery boulders. Suddenly, our surroundings were illuminated and we looked up to see a burning ball of fire soar past. The trajectory of the meteorite took it at eye level across the hollow void of Glen Sannox, where it fizzled out in a puff of sulphurous light above the dark glen. It was a chance occurrence, a once in several lifetimes experience, but as they say, you have to be “in it to win it”, and walking at night is a great way to find these surprising and magical moments that come at you out of the gloom.  

Safety First:

Walking in the mountains carries a risk of accidents, and this is increased further at night.  There are ways of minimising the risk to yourself when mountain walking at this time of year:

• Take plenty of warm clothes, food and drink
• Carry a map and compass, and know how to use them.
• Carry a headtorch and spare batteries, or even a spare torch.
• Choose a route that will be easy to follow in the dark.
• Let someone know where you are going and when you plan to be back.
• In full “winter conditions” other equipment such as ice axe and crampons may also be necessary.