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Beinn a’ Chlaidheimh Sgurr Ban Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair Beinn Tarsuinn A’ Mhaighdean Ruadh Stac Mor Map The Fisherfield Six. This was my first ever bash at a 2 day trip which would involve camping out overnight somewhere between the hills. In preparation for this I’d bought some lightweight gear to make the burden as easy as possible: a nice new ultralight tent, a Terra Nova Laser, which weighed a mere 1.29 kg – less than half as much as my old tent - and a new lightweight stove and pan/kettle thing made of titanium. A bit pricey but what the hell, eh. Even so by the time I came to hoisting my pack onto my back it seemed pretty heavy – must have been at least two stone in ‘old’ measurements, possibly because of my tendency for chucking in anything I think might come in useful. The guide book had mentioned several river crossings for this trip so I’d stopped in Tyndrum on the way up, at the Green Welly shop, and picked up a light pair of flip-flop sandals. The trip had started with me leaving work at 4 o’ clock on the 29th and driving up to my favourite layby near Moffat, where I slept in the car. Then I’d spent the next day driving all the way up to Dundonnell which was just past Corrie Hallie, the access point for Fisherfield. It had been raining most of the way up the west coast – torrential around Glencoe but not so bad near Inverness – and as the rain cascaded down my windscreen I had found myself wondering what exactly I was doing all this for. Still, whatever the reason in the end I resolved to press on and do it anyway. At Dundonnell I got a room in a nice B&B there (£18) and then went for a meal in the Dundonnell Hotel. It was three cheese & leek sausages with mashed potatos and a veggy onion gravy followed by sticky toffee pudding and ice cream and a pint of Beamish - all for £9.50. It was very good. The barman was Russian. I wanted to get an early start the next day but somehow by the time I’d had breakfast, driven to the Corrie Hallie start point and got ready it was 9.30. There’s a craft shop at Corrie Hallie, incidentally, which I remembered visiting with Trisha on a previous holiday. There were already quite a few cars parked there and I had to park the Peugeot on the grass. The first part of the walk-in is up a cart-track which rises through lightly-wooded terrain for about a mile as it progresses through Gleann Chaorachain. Then the track crosses the stream and climbs a bit more steeply to the head of the glen from where you get the first sight of the great open spaces and still distant hills of Fisherfield.
The path for the Shenavall bothy bears off to the right at this point but I carried on along the cart-track for another couple of miles until I eventually came to the Abhainn Loch an Nid. Here there were three tents pitched but there was no sign of their owners. I forded a small stream, using my new sandals in order to keep my boots dry and then, as I was sitting putting my socks back on, a solitary Frenchman turned up, coming from Loch an Nid. He told me he was walking from Fort William to Cape Wrath and in the spirit of international bonhomie I lent him my sandals to cross the stream with. I carried on for about a mile up the Abhainn Loch an Nid which was swollen with the waters of the recent heavy rains and didn’t look at all easy to cross. Still, it had to be done so in the end I donned my sandals again, rolled up my trouser legs and set off. The water was racing along and there was no place to get across without having to wade knee deep for at least part of the way. I had a walking pole to steady me but even something as slender as that was being pushed strongly aside by the force of the water, and with the stones underfoot slippery and unstable it was quite an awkward crossing. The water was very cold as well and my feet were soon becoming quite numb as I floundered about. Still, with the help of a few determined/desperate lunges I finally made it across; this was the hardest of all the river crossings I had to do.
From the west bank of the river it was a fairly long climb up the hillside to the ridge, finally reaching it at the col just south of Beinn a’ Chlaidheimh’s summit. It had been over heather and grass at first and then pink and grey stones near the top. Some light cloud was swirling around now as I prepared to dump the rucksack and make the final climb to the top unburdened. It occurred to me then that I might not be able to find the sac again if the mist closed in so I took a precautionary reading with the GPS – I left it at precisely NH0614477188. As it happened things didn’t get that bad and I was easily able to see it from a distance when I returned. From the col it didn’t take me long to climb up the rocky slope to the top which was only about 125 metres higher – I got there at 2.55. Then seeing that the next top to the north wasn’t so far I walked along to cop it before returning to the summit and thence back down to the col.
I was feeling pretty tired and still had 3 peaks to go before my intended camp, but of course I had to bash on regardless. The next hill was Sgurr Ban – the light-coloured peak. So called, I expect, because of the grey stones covering much of its eastern flanks. I descended from Beinn a’ Chlaidheimh and passed the two small lochans at the col. From there it was a tiring slog up the hillside – not because of the gradient, which wasn’t unduly steep, but because the ground was covered with rocks and boulders on which you had to tread carefully to find sound footing. I passed two parties coming downhill, a party of 4 and a party of 5 but they passed me at a distance and didn’t say much. I got to the top at 5.10 – a pretty slow time really. A large round stone cairn crowns the summit.
From Sgurr Ban I looked forward to Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair and it appeared pretty daunting. I could see the pink route of ascent snaking up the stony hillside and it looked horribly steep. In the event it was indeed horribly steep and yet strangely enough this was much easier than the slog up Sgurr Ban had been. The steepness made for a rapid gain of height and although the path was on loose, powdery shale most of the way it was sound enough and gave no problems. I got to the top at 6.20.
Conscious of the sinking sun and the need to find a campsite before it got dark I pressed on towards the final munro of the day – Beinn Tarsuinn. I had to descend south from the Mullach and then skirt round the base of Meall Garbh along a path which followed the contours of the steep NW flank of that hill. That was a nice amble and brought me to the final gentle ascent up Beinn Tarsuinn, over grass and slabby rocks. No difficulties there and I was on the summit at 8.00.
I was pretty exhausted by now and the light was fading but it was still good enough to give a fine view over the Fisherfield bounds. I picked my way along the Tarsuinn ridge, over the distinctive table-top, then came to a further distinct rise in the ridge. Fortunately I didn’t have to go up it, however, for a path bypasses it on the left and this took me easily round and then down the western hillside towards the bealach between the eastern and western hills.
I dropped down some distance but then came to a sheltered spot which seemed ok for camping. I made a note of the location according to the GPS – it was NH029730 (E. 02914, N. 73005) and at an altitude of 2239 ft although I don’t think the GPS is as good at altitudes as it is at grid refs. Further down the hillside I thought I saw a tent – it turned out to be a large rock – and felt reluctant to proceed any further as I didn’t want to intrude on anyone’s space. I thought that part of the wilderness experience was the freedom to be alone in the middle of it so I decided not to go any closer. I pitched the Laser without any trouble and, having got some water from a nearby dripping rivulet, I cooked my evening meal. I had brought one of these lightweight travel meals - dried ingredients in a foil envelope which you open, fill with boiling water, and reseal to let cook for 10 mins. You then eat out of the envelope so no washing up. It was pasta with roasted vegetables and olives and I have to say it was absolutely excellent – well done to all you folks at Reiter, Travellunch. I followed that with a hot choc drink which also went down well – maybe because I was so exhausted/famished/dehydrated.
After that I inflated the Thermarest, got into the sleeping bag about 10.20 and had quite a decent night. I certainly got some sleep anyway, coming to at about 5.00 in the morning although I didn’t actually get up till 6.00. The Laser was OK but there was a bit of flappy noise. I wasn’t sure if that was the nature of the tent or just the way I’d put it up. Incidentally it’s sold as a 2 man tent but I think it’d be a pretty tight squeeze with two people. I think it’s more like a 1 man tent but maybe I’m just not used to tent accommodation. I’m not knocking it though, I was very happy with it - it’s greatest strength, of course, being its ultralight weight. I felt that that was worth a lot of flappy noise. It didn’t keep me awake anyway, as I’ve said. I made some porridge for breakfast, broke camp and set off at 7.30. It was an overcast day although still dry and the clouds were clear of the top of A’ Mhaighdean at that point. I made my way down to the bealach and then started the ascent which proved straightforward and not unduly steep for most of the way. I was still pretty tired from the previous day’s exertions, however, and took frequent rests on the way up. I finally reached the rocky top at 9.30, by which time it was blanketed in cloud, obscuring any views and even the next peak, Ruadh Stac Mor, was invisible. It was also a bit cold now and a few drops of rain were forming.
I didn’t linger but pressed on in a northerly then north-easterly direction through the murk and found it a bit tricky to find Ruadh Stac Mor. In the end I resorted to the GPS which was very helpful and guided me to a horribly steep, wall-like hillside. Daunting but there was a trace of a path going up it so I took a deep breath and soldiered on. Halfway up I met two Scots lads coming down. They said they were doing all 6 peaks that day. As we were talking I inadvertently dislodged a great lump of stone which went bounding and crashing down the hill. Unthinkingly I watched it go without saying anything but after a pause one of the lads took it upon himself to yell out ‘Below!’ He probably thought me a bit lacking in the niceties of mountain etiquette. I got to the top of Ruadh Stac Mor at 11.30. It’s marked by a square trig point with the plate: B M S0430
And that was it, I’d done them! The Fisherfield Six. Now for the long walk back. I descended from the summit in a NE direction and emerged from the clouds just above Lochan a Bhraghad. I walked anti-clockwise round the shore of this lochan, and then continued NNW down easy slopes of heather and grass until I reached the path by the Gleann na Muice Beag. This is a good, distinct path which takes you down, with only one steepish bit, all the way to the Abhainn Gleann na Muice.
There you turn left and follow the river as far as the small building called Larachantivore. The OS map actually shows a footbridge just before this building but that bridge is long gone and you have to ford the river. As I approached Larachantivore I met a young Scots lass on her own, coming the other way. She said she was off to climb the 2 hills I’d done today, camp out and then carry on to Kinlochewe. I thought she was leaving it a bit late for the hills as it was already 2.40 but she had overnight stuff with her so I expect she’d be ok. She confirmed there was no bridge but reckoned that fording the 2 rivers ahead of me wouldn’t be too difficult - the waters had subsided a bit since the rushing torrents of the day before. She still had her sandals on and wet feet. At Larachantivore I saw a line of ripples in the water indicating a fairly shallow point and a footprint by the bank there indicated that this indeed was the accepted crossing point. I donned my trusty sandals once more and waded across with no difficulties. From there a path led across a kilometre or so of flat, very boggy terrain until I reached the Abhainn Srath na Sealga. This river too was crossed in sandals with no trouble. Although it looks bigger on the map than the Abhainn Loch an Nid on this day it was much less of a barrier than that river had been. The Sealga has banks of large, clean pebbles on which to sit while changing your footwear.
A herd of about 20 deer cantered briskly from west to east across my route as I advanced towards Shenavall bothy. About 10 tents were in place around the bothy and as I passed it I could see someone inside was boiling a kettle. I didn’t stop though. From the bothy the path climbs up for about 300 metres as it makes its way back to Corrie Hallie. The gradient is easy enough but it did begin to feel like a bit of a long haul and the rucksack was feeling heavier and heavier as I plodded on. There was a bit of light rain falling now too but it didn’t really bother me at this stage of the trip. Once past the high point, which is maybe a mile and a half from Shenavall, it’s just a steady downhill amble and the path soon joins up with the outbound path from the day before. Two miles after that and I was back at the car – 6.20. Extremely tired but with a sense of satisfaction at having successfully completed a hard trip. There was also a definite feeling of spiritual uplift which I put down to wandering for two days in natural surroundings, with no fences, roads, pollution or noise, free from any pressures and reliant on no-one but myself. | ||||||||||||||||||
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