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Beinn Bhuide
Map I drove up on Sunday and spent the night with my Aunt Madge, then on the Monday I collected Andrew and we set off up north. The weather was great so I wanted to do something that day if possible and the best chance was Beinn Bhuide, the mountain we'd turned back from the previous February (see here) after running out of time walking up the long approach road. This approach road is private and has a 'No Walkers Cars' sign on it but we ignored that this time and drove on up Glen Fyne for about 3 miles. When we came to the spot where the road becomes a cart track we encountered a landrover which slowed down as it came level but not wanting to be told to turn round and shove off I stared fixedly ahead and drove past and the bloke couldn't be bothered pursuing. He drove off and we parked the car just across the river from there, on a concrete slab off the road. We set off at 2.45 and walked for 15 mins till we came to the Inverchorachan bothy where there was another blasted landrover. The bloke stopped for a chat and told us how we could save time by cutting across the top back to the quarry. 'You came past that?' he asked. 'Oh aye,' we both agreed. Well we had done… last February. As he cleared off I looked into the window of the bothy and saw the same jar of marmite that I had noted in February, still waiting there to delight some starving climber's palate - well, maybe the next time I'm passing. We left the bothy at 3.00 and followed a path by a fence, through some bracken in the early stages then on up a steep grassy hillside spotted with some rocky outcrops. Having reached the ridge at a col between a 901 metre peak and Beinn Bhuide we followed a more distinct path which we found there. The going then was easier and less steep but led past some steep drops. It was a glorious day with blue skies and white clouds but alas I'd left the camera in the car and missed the chance of capturing some great scenes. Got to the top at 5.30 - there's a small cairn and a fallen trig point there - then returned the way we'd come, making good time to reach the car by 7.14. From there we drove round to the campsite at Beinglas Farm, which I'd walked through the previous month when I climbed Beinn Chabhair . We put up Andrew's tent - he'd forgotten his tent pegs but as I'd brought my own tent as well we were able to use my pegs. There were some midges about but they weren't a great problem. After a meal of veggy quiche, chips, salad and a pint at the campsite we wandered off through the gloom to the nearby pub a couple of hundred yards down the road. This is the Drover's Arms, situated about 10 miles south of Crianlarich on the A82 - ie the middle of nowhere. The Drovers is a pub with masses of character. It's overflowing with ageing, stuffed animals including a snarling bear with a moth-eaten muzzle just inside the entrance, and a suit of armour, plus loads of old pictures including one of Gladstone with what looked like a bullet hole in the canvas an inch from his head. A portrait of a lady on the stairs had been similarly punctured in several places whilst in the main room there were swords on the wall, dark wooden ceilings, a bare wood floor and fireplaces at either end, the further one with an open coal fire burning in it. The walls themselves were dark, pocked plaster and the unused fireplace, the one near the door, had a fire-blackened, dusty surround topped with the odd stuffed animal. The whole place was dusty, dark and aged and steeped in a kind of deliberate, eccentric neglect. We were served by a taciturn barman, the archetypal dour Scot, dressed in a kilt. There were a fair number of people in there though, despite it being the middle of nowhere. Some would be from the campsite, of course, while others would be walkers doing the West Highland Way which runs past there. Had a couple of pints then made our way back to the campsite. Slept ok. £4.50 each for the campsite plus £4.40 for breakfast for me - Andrew just made his own. |
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