The Cheesecake and the Policeman (April 28th-May 1st 2006)



About 50 miles north-west of Inverness, a small path winds south from Glen Carron, climbing 2000 feet over the mountain ridge of Sgurr na Feartaig and dropping down into the wilderness beyond.



It’s a good path, despite having to walk an extra 3km on a forestry road to begin, - since there is no bridge over the river at Achnashellach.

 


We set out a little before 4.00pm after driving from York that day, laden with 3 nights’ supplies of food  (hats off to Beverley for quiche and cake ......and a campaign medal to Sid who assumed chef duties) and some of Tesco’s best quality bothy whisky (the fabled “GlenPlatypus”). After 3 hours, there was the lonely and isolated Bearnais Bothy – a one-roomed hut and the only building in dozens of square miles. Outside, were Lesley & Gethin with a tent by the stream. Inside, was a Bosnian lad with an improbably large knife on a solo 2 weeks of deserted valley walking.

Lurg Mhor is one of the most remote mountains in the UK. What’s more, to get at it you have to go over its 945m neighbour, Bidein a’Choire Sheasgaich. (Gaelic for “Would you like more cheesecake?”).

It’s steep and rocky hereabouts, so routes on and off the mountain are few. From our bothy base,  on a glorious morning, we headed alongside a gorge up a delightful stream into Coire Seasgagh, to gain the narrow north ridge of Cheescake itself.  With snow still plentiful higher up, the mild scramble needed steps kicking with care. Easy work, but some big consequences would follow any slip



The sky got bluer and clearer, massive views unfolded in every direction, and out came suncream and shades. A snowy bealach led across to Lurg Mor itself. The summit felt more like an alpine afternoon – snow soft in the warm sun, no wind at all, sitting and relaxing with distant views on every hand. We lazed about for an hour soaking it in, until Sid announced that afternoon tea would be served back at Bearnais.

And so it was.



The next day didn’t start so good. However Lesley and Gethin cunningly waited an extra hour, so that by the time we reached the Bealach Bearnais 4km east, it was time for elevenses and the summits were clearing. Full packs today, as we had left the bothy behind and were heading to camp by the small wood near Glenuaig Lodge. From the bealach, up the west ridge of the 999-metre Sgurr Choinnich (Gael.= “Policeman’s Peak”) which consisted of a series of scrambly rock steps. On the summit, sun and snow, with an exquisite view down into Loch Monar and Pait Lodge "the most isolated habitation in Britain”. Scraps of cloud were now hanging round our next mountain, Sgurr a’Chaorachain, and the passage to it involved a steep and narrow bealach with a long descent on steep, deep, soft snow. Steady, Eddy. More fantastic views, linking Mullardoch, Glen Affric, and Strathfarrar in the south and east, to the Fannaichs and Torridon. A lovely alpine wander down the snowy north ridge and a steep drop into a deserted glen so that El Chef could attend to his vocation and provide Afternoon Tea.


Sadly the clouds were evidently massing in the west, making it unlikely that the crystal clear shape of Maoile Lunndaidh would appear so well in the morning.


As evening fell, we fed the flames of a cheery fire whilst wood nymphs (Ang & Lesley) brought branches. The last of the GlenPlatypus helped us to bed.

On Monday morning, the drumming on the tent told us what to expect. Veils of cloud and sheets of rain, so with no sunshine, no views, and no whisky it was time to head out down the landrover track and through the forestry back to Craig in GlenCarron.

Sid had the bizarre notion that  Jerry’s Bunkhouse would let us use the shower and so on; but once Jerry had set him straight on this point, it only took a short drive to find a really good welcome (and a shower) at the Ledgowan Hotel & Bunkhouse at Achnasheen (plug).


Over a good bar meal  we watched the clag and drizzle, and thought how privileged we’d been to have 4 good hills on 2 fantastic days. Maoile Lunndaidh will wait.

Fabo trip guys,  Andy