Chapter 8. 1985 Adventures
Where a stranger enters the bedroom, rats outlive cats, a pony performs and porridge fails to keep us all "a Ghlo". Furthermore I Scooby Doo up my 200th, rock climb at last, find eggs travel a long way in the dark and frantically look for a gas leak.
Amazingly we also pin something on Ian Botham, survive hypothermia and are only allowed "one sheet per sheet" whilst being indoctrinated in a no smoking policy. Finally, we rebuild bridges, only to fail for the first time.
Includes: Chabhair, Challum, Chonzie, Glen Tilt, Conbhairean, Sgurr Dubh Mor, In Pinn, Alligan Beinn Eigh, Mhaoraich, A9 again. Wyvis, Braemore, Maol Chean Dearg.
It was also the year we completed "The Ultimate Challenge" walk across Scotland, which is covered in more detail elsewhere.
February 16th- 18th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean),
Jim Pickering
​Starting with...
February 16th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean),
Jim Pickering
1 Munro
Beinn Chabhair
(North of Loch Lomond)
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We stayed at the Inverarnan Hotel 1½miles north of Ardlui at the top end of Loch Lomond. The hotel had character and characters.
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The main bar had a good log fire at one end. In the hallway, high on the wall, was a mouldering stuffed swan whose neck looked like it had been wrung. The whole was supported by hamfisted wire and covered in a liberal depth of dust.
The hotel accommodation side was itself a little dilapidated. Jim and I shared a room, and rats and mice constantly caused the light shade to swing, and when we picked up our boots from under the sink a pair of brown eyes glared balefully at us from a hole in the skirting.
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In another room one of the windows was only painted on the outside wall, and did not exist. This same room sported the plug controlling the hotel sign, and when people were in bed a member of staff knocked, entered and unplugged the sign before retiring again.
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At breakfast our waitress, Daisy, served the porridge with her thumb stuck in it, which she sucked clean before fetching the next plate.
She advised us that her daughter had set up a B & B up the road and that was a better place to stay than the hotel.
Our climb today was Beinn Chabhair which lay 3 miles due east of our hotel and was to be ascended from the back door.
Setting off at 10.30 am we followed the Ben Glas Burn to the farm, then climbed a craggy hillside, gaining 1,000ft in 1/4 mile. Bean (Geraldine) records seeing wild goats.
The gradient then eases briefly at a moorland track where rough knolls lead to a final hump of a twin-cairned summit, finishing along the north west ridge. It was a sunny day, but cold.
It was very dark (7pm) by the time they descended and we were waiting a little anxiously for them at the roadside by Derrydaroch for a considerable time.
7 miles. 3,000ft.
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To the sound of gunshot we arrived back at the hotel. We saw a dead cat. It appeared that someone had a down on the local cat population, and was shooting them. An odd thing to do considering the number of rats there were about this place.​
Whilst we consumed a bar supper, an ugly, ginger coloured, long haired, ageing fell pony made an entrance through the bar door.
We looked round, expecting a response from bar staff, but they merely carried on talking. Apparently the pony was a regular.
A few minutes later an ugly, sparsely haired, ageing rough-sleeping man made himself known to us. He appeared not to be able to hear or speak, but he mimed.
Eventually we worked out the message. Our visitor wished to entertain us by 'wrestling' with the pony, apparently his party piece. If he managed to get it to lie down, then he had won, and we would buy him a drink.
If he didn’t succeed, or the pony bit him, then bets were off. We accepted the terms on the basis that we would intervene if it looked like either party would get hurt... and on the reassurance from bar staff that the pony was used to it ... and kept coming back into the bar for more interaction.
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We watched for some time as he tried in vain various methods to. persuade the pony to lie down, including trying to get on its back.
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It obviously knew what he was up to and, equally obviously, it was extremely strong and not in the mood to lie down. After some time, which saw the man on the floor, the pony used its yellowing teeth to signal the end of the game, then it did a lap round the bar as if to say "I win!".
Despite technically losing the bet, we bought the defeated contestant a pint for his efforts. All around us just accepted this as regular Highland bar entertainment.
Ian
Mal, Jim and I descended slightly more direct than the outgoing route but Ian and Geraldine needed Beinn a Chroin and had some hair raising moments on snow slopes, despite crampons.
Jim on Chabhair
From the Col back to Ben More we enjoyed some good snow sliding down to the Benmore Burn.
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Some of us had axes and this was one of the first days we had used them. We agreed that Crampons were something we all should have.
5½ miles. 4300ft.
It was decidedly cooler coming down.
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7 1/2 miles. 3100ft.
​February 17th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Jim Pickering
1 Munros & 1 Top
Ben Challum
(Crianlarich to Tyndrum)
Geraldine was not feeling so good today so elected to have a lie in and stay at the hotel. Rats continued to shower dust by their antics in the attic.
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The rest of the party tackled Ben Challum from the sparse remains of St Fillan's Chapel between Crianlarich and Tyndrum.
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We crossed the railway and the gradient was pathless and at first gentle, then minimal, for the first few miles, steepening through soft snow for the last mile.
On the way up it was bright and sunny, and care and crampons were required along the top to attain the northern summit with spindrift blowing.
On Ben Challum
Malcolm
Ian, Jim, Mal on Challum
February 18th 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean)
1 Munro
Ben Chonzie
(Comrie)​​
Geraldine was back on form, but Jim was a little queasy today.
We had a goodly drive back to Lochearnhead, then along the loch itself to Comrie, before turning north up Glen Lednock.
Here we parked up at around noon, just before the dam, at Invergeldie. Jim decided against the climb and strolled up towards Loch Lednock Reservoir.
The rest of the team followed Invergeldie Burn closely until lost in mist somewhere around 752301. We then struck due east, up the long incline to Ben Chonzie's gentle plateau.
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Visibility was very poor in the deep, soft, snow and thick mist. A summit fence saved the day and helped us locate the high point.
We wore goggles to protect from spindrift and it was cold and windy coming off. A compass was an absolute necessity as it was a long way home if we took anything but the correct direction.
We saw more white mountain hares today than on any other hill day I can remember. Back at car for 4pm.
7 1/2 miles. 2350ft.
... and then followed an enjoyable high level route, with good views and the clouds high.
After collecting three Munros we dropped off northwards to a cold, deep, river crossing before camping by the River Tilt just south of the Falls of Tarf.
13 1/2 miles. 4400ft.
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A cold supper was followed by a cold night.
​ May 4th- May 6th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean)​
Camping in Glen Tilt
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Starting with...
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​ May 4th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean)
​3 Munros
Carn Liath,
Braigh Coire Chruinn-bhalgain,
Carn nan Gabhar
(Beinn A'Ghlo)
​​
This was to be a three day expedition, and we travelled north in my brand new Volvo 240 Estate Reg No. B904 AHG (Bagheera), staying the night at Pitlochry.
Abandoning the car with a little trepidation, near Fenderbridge just outside Blair Atholl, we took the farm lane for a mile before crossing tussocky and damp terrain to reach the gradual, lower, slopes of Carn Liath. It was cool but clear.
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Ian carried a porridge package under his arm all day. Being dense, it took us a while to spot its significance. The porridge sported the promise "To keep you all a'glow". Appropriate for the Beinn A'Ghlo Range.
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The summit was attained...
May 5th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean)​
​3 Munros, 1 Top,
Carn Bhac, Beinn Iutharn Mhor,
Carn an Righ
(Glen Tilt)
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After “Ready Brek” and with light rucksacks, we followed the Tilt north then started to drop down the long valley towards White Bridge. We saw “Dippers” and “Oyster catchers”.
Rise and Shine and a cake made a welcome supplement to energy levels. At the county boundary we took an easterly course, skirting Sron a Bhoididh, crossing the inevitable Geal Charn and, at long last, rounding on to the casual summit of Carn Bhac, missing a small top en route. This Munro was cause for celebration for Malcolm. It was his 200th. For me it was number 195.
Malcom leads the way to his 200th
It was cold, dry and clear, although the odd sleet shower added variety.
Next we slid gently south before ascending fairly steeply to the long top of Beinn Iutharn Mhor.
From here we dived to the shoulder of Mam nan Carn, then dived again before a pull up to Carn an Righ. From here Mal and Bean headed off northwest to pick up a track back to the pitched camp.
Ian and I backed off to the gap between this hill and the last one, where I stood sentry duty whilst Ian sped off alone into the evening, to catch up Glas Tulaichean.
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An hour later he was back with me and we followed the stream downwards to the northwest to find supper on with at camp. Bean writes very small, but her diary says “HOT MEAL” in large letters.
It was 9pm by the time Ian and I arrived.
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18 miles 4100ft.
Tormentil, perhaps the commonest small flower of the hills after heather and Scottish bluebell
​ May 6th, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean)
1 Munro,
Carn a Chlamain
(Glen Tilt)
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The weather continued to be kind to us, and dawn was cool and clear after early sleet and snow.
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Supplies were getting thin, and Geraldine in particular was finding lack of nourishment a problem.
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Breakfast was a non event as all we had was dried Scots (All A'glow) porridge oats, but no milk, sugar or other additive. Neither was a hot brew forthcoming, and revolt was close.
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We now had the long walk out to Blair Atholl, but, dumping rucksacks, we diverted to take the excellent zig zags near Forest Lodge that gave quick access to today's lone Munro, Carn a Chlamain.
It sported a rocky top and good views. A mars bar and the final sandwich saw off the last of the trip's meagre rations.
Fortunately the path down Glen Tilt is of a good standard throughout and most of it would be driveable in a landrover. We saw deer and squirrels.
A higher path, near Gilberts Bridge (the OS don't put an apostrophe in Gilberts), brought us through woodland to the welcome sight of the car, which we found safe and sound.
Refreshment was urgently sought.
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16 miles. 2300ft.
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In the three days we had covered 47½ miles, 10,800ft, for 7 Munros and 1 Top.
​ June 22nd- 26th, 1985
Ian, (Malcom, Geraldine (Bean) most of day)​​
3 Munros, 2 Tops
Carn Ghluasaid (Repeat)
Sgurr nan Conbhairean (Repeat)
Tigh Mor na Selge
(North of Loch Cluanie)
After a night stop at the Cluanie Inn, boots were on for 10am.
Parking in the lay-by at Lundie, Loch Cluanie, we again used the great fast stalking track up to Ghluasaid (third time). The ridge walk from here all the way to Tigh Mor is excellent and airy in places.
Unfortunately we were without a view all day, it being wet and windy initially, with only occasional glimpses of other hills being afforded.
On the return from the northern extreme we skirted Conbhairean on the west and dropped into the wide coire to follow the Allt Coire Lair to the old military road, and thence back to the start point.
Bean records Purple Saxifrage, Moss Campion, Thrift, Great Sundew, Butterwort and Chickweed Wintergreen.
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11 miles. 4400ft. 6hours 30mins.
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After a picnic supper we motored on to Skye and lodged at Carbost.
I walked into the wrong room at the B+B and you can read more about that incident in my Midnight Manoeuvres blog!
June 23rd, 1985
Mal, Ian, Geraldine (Bean)
2 Munros, 1 Top
Sgurr Dubh Mor
Sgurr nan Eag (Repeat)
(Cuillin Ridge)
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Another showery day, with boots on near to Glenbrittle campsite for 10am.
The ascent of Coire Ghrundda is always a boulder hopping event. The setting is bleak but the chaos is awesome. I always enjoy approaching the ridge by this route.
Once on the ridge, with the mist lifting, we had an interesting hour deciding the route along the crest of Sgurr Dooby Doo, or, more accurately Sgurr Dubh Mor.
It is necessary to change over from one side of the crest to the other. Much scrambling was required and the summit itself is not a place to loiter, and has to be exited with a little care, perched as it is over a fairly horrendous drop.
Even in the wet and the mist we could guess what was below us. What better place to reach my 200th Munro?
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Retracing steps to the main ridge we then took the fairly easy crest along to Sgurr nan Eag, before returning to the valley.
Brief views were obtained on this last peak, before mist and rain took over again. This was Bean's first visit to the ridge, and she reports sore fingers. I suffered the same complaint.
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8 1/2 miles. 4000ft. 8hours.
June 24th, 1985
Ian, (Malcom, Geraldine most of the day)
1 Munro, 1 Top
Inaccessible Pinnacle (In Pinn), Sgurr Dearg
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As this mountain requires rock climbing ability we had decided to be guided.
We joined a party from Cuillin Guides (Gerry Akroyd's organisation), and about 8 hopefuls set off from Stac Lee at 10am.
The direct approach ridge required a little care, but nothing more difficult than at 100 other places on these hills.
One of the party, (was she called Fiona ?), was quite nervous and had to be helped to the extent of supporting her boots at some points. She was adamant that the day was not suitable for the In Pinn.
Admittedly it was a nasty day, with the wind gusting and clouds swirling, but it certainly was not gale force as Fiona would have it.
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Our leader, Bill Logan, eventually decided that there was no way he was going to get the whole party up the rock face, so he decided we would have to call it a day and descend.
Ian and I were not best pleased as we had already kicked the foot of the climb on two previous visits, and we were still that 60ft or so from attaining the top.
We declared that we would sit and wait and see if anyone turned up with whom we could hitch a rope.
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The guide could see that we were adamant, and when Malcolm and Geraldine agreed to escort the rest of the party down into Coire Laggan we were told to sit tight, and, when satisfied that the main party were on the correct line, our "roll your own" instructor would return and see the two of us to the summit.
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So the scrabble for the top in the wet and the wind began. There were one or two points where we wished our mentor would hold the rope taught instead of grinning, having another drag on his cigarette and mumbling “You’re doing fine.”
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Considering it's only graded as an easy climb, we found it a hard 'easy', and I remain suspicious that we were made to work for it.
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Perhaps the wet rock made it more difficult than usual. I would like to think so.
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The lack of visibility hid the horrendous drop that we knew lay below us. With a feeling of relief mixed with elation we arrived at the top and cautiously mounted the final, summit, boulder.
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After coming to terms with having 'done it' we next had to come to terms with 'undoing it'. An abseil is never easy when you haven't done one for a year or so.
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The abseil was, however, duly accomplished and we arrived down at the base of the In Pinn with a thud, finding ourselves lying flat on our backs on the floor. Brilliant!!!
Ian and I now headed for Torridon and the Youth Hostel there.
3150ft. 5 1/2 miles. 7hours 30mins.
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Reflecting on yesterday it is interesting to note that although Ian and I score the day highly, Geraldine's diary merely says “ A disappointing day on the ridge”. What a difference an In Pinn makes!!
Mal & Bean were staying on Skye, but the weather was against another In Pinn attempt. However, in September they returned and succeeded.
June 25th, 1985
Ian
1 Munro, 1 Top
Beinn Alligin
(Torridon)
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Parking and starting at Torridon House we headed north west into Coire nan Laogh, and made our way onto Tom na Gruagaich (later promoted to Munro).
A short rocky descent then along a fine ridge to the Munro Top of Sgurr Mhor. Just before the summit, down a steep gully, we had a good close up view of a Golden Eagle as it soared out of the depths and away.
Although cloudy we did get glimpse and periods of breaks in the clouds. The circuit over the horns and down was accomplished with no problem, to pick up the good track back to Torridon House.
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7 miles 4350ft. 6 hours 30 mins.
The Ben Damph Hotel received a visit. We were starving and down to our last hard boiled egg. As we arrived at the hotel car park we chose our menu mentally, three courses of it.
To celebrate the prospect of a square meal we entered our eggs into an egg chucking contest, furthest wins. We hurled them high and far into the bushes. It was difficult in the dark to tell who won. Never mind, strawberries and chips to come!!!
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After a couple of pints we asked for the bar menu. "Sorry Boys. Foods off. We have been completely rushed out all day, and eaten out of house and home. In any case Chef's gone."
We were definitely not impressed. "OK" sandwiches will do ". "Sorry, not a slice of bread left". Disaster.
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After consuming further quantities of ale to try to extract the calories and nourishment to be found in best bitter we eventually took our leave. As one we rushed into the bushes in search of our previously rejected boiled eggs. In vain we searched in the glimmer of our torches.
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Oh woe is us.
June 26th, 1985
Ian
1 Munro, 1 Top
Ruadh Stac Mor (Beinn Eigh)
(Torridon)
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We were heading home today, but first we wanted the scalp of Beinn Eighe. On a previous occasion we had rushed impromptu round the ridge and omitted the highest point which is on a north reaching spur overlooking the famous Coire Mhic Fhearchair.
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We started from the nearest parking place, opposite Lochan an Iasgair, taking the path up Coire Dubh Mor, then ascended steeply to hit the Ben's main ridge east of Coinneach Mhor.
This allowed us easy access to the 1010 meter summit of Ruadh Stac Mor.
It was clear at first, then cloudy later. Some of the scree on the ascent was large and dangerously loose but on the way down we hit a purple patch of a scree run, and shot down like a pair of express trains. Ian found time for a paddle as we crossed the burn at the foot of the hill.
​With the car loaded I heard the sound of escaping camping gas from my boot. Strange, because there was no camping gas in it.
The noise was eventually traced to my case, and on opening it I was greeted by a bag full of shaving foam. The top had come off and pressure of other items set off the spray.
Ian found this serious occurrence amusing and I chased him round the car park with the remains of my can. As he was too fleet for me I heaved an armful of foam in his general direction as he again darted away.
The Gods were on my side for once, for a gust of wind swirled the cloud of foam directly onto Ian's back.
The foam being featherweight he didn’t feel a thing, and it was quite some time before I had the heart to tell him that he had a great white hump between his shoulder blades.
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6 miles. 3750ft.
Ian with remnants of shaving cream still on his back.
November 2nd-9th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
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Starting with...
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November 2nd, 1985
Ian, Malcom
2 Munros
Carn na Caim, Meall Chuaich
(A9) (Dalwhinnie)
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This was the first time we had been as late as November, but we reckoned that it was worth being a little later to avoid the main stalking season.
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We had an 8am start from Ian's and by 11am we were sat in a lay-by at Stirling trying to decide whether to head for Dalwhinnie or Killin.
Dalwhinnie won the day.
By 12o'clock midday it was snowing hard as we sped up the A9. Fortunately, it cleared to cloud (at 1500ft) and revealed a weary England cricketer, Ian Botham, on his Lands End to John O'Groats walk.
We presented him with a poppy to wear, as I was connected with the Blackpool South Poppy Appeal.
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As we parked up at the Dalwhinnie turn off (Dalwhinnie is generally one big turn off !), it cleared fully and the summits were visible for the first time. There was a covering of snow and frost above 2000ft.
'Boots' on was 12.40pm.
It was fairly easy going, helped by the lack of a need to navigate, as this is plateau terrain on the tops. We were soon clad in anoraks, balaclavas and gloves, except Ian who was a little more casual.
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A fence followed the watershed and as we arrived at our first objective, at 2.33pm, black snow clouds gathered and the first flakes of snow fluttered down.
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We debated the pros and cons of taking in the second hill which was a good 6 mile trek along the tops. We opted to go for it. Visibility worsened and by 3.30pm we were just following the fence and hoping for a glimpse ahead.
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It was crispy underfoot, with peat hags and heather alternating. We saw a ptarmigan and three chicks. At 4.30pm we approached the Col before the final push.
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At least it was now calm, although still very cold. As dusk descended the clouds lifted, and by 5.20pm we stood on Meall Chuaich.
It was just possible to see the time without the aid of the torch. Even as we stood, dusk turned to dark, the last of the light was lost, and the electric lights of Dalwhinnie looked like Blackpool Illuminations in the desolation of white.
The snow helped the descent by reflecting light from the moon now shining. The track out is a tarred road, which was a big help as it was around another 6 miles.
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Once back at the car Ian confessed to feeling cold. We were used to the occasional vacant spell, but we had to admit he had been a bit quiet for some time.
We assumed it must be a mild attack of hypothermia so we made for a pub in Fort William, having booked ahead at Spean Bridge Motel for the night.
We had a meal and a pint, but the youngster had neither, being still a little distant.
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18½ miles. 3500ft.
November 3rd, 1985
Ian, Malcom
1 Munro
Sgurr a Mhaoraich
(Quoich)
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Down for breakfast at 8am, Ian was now more lively, and made up for lost time.
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It was fine, but cold and grey. We called in at a house near Spean Bridge for me to drop off Susan's Duke of Edinburgh Gold log for assessment.
My car wiper fuse blew, and I gained a round of applause when I produced a spare and knew what to do with it.
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We headed for Loch Quoich and parked up just over half way down, across the bridge over the spur of loch that heads up Glen Quoich.
From a 10.50am start we were straight and steeply into action on an excellent horseshoe walk.
Snow was down to loch level , there was a gentle breeze, and we were without a view until after the summit was reached around 2pm. It was cold and windy on top and glimpses were afforded at first in 10 second bursts.
From now, as we descended, it was clear all round with splendid rocky hills to west and south.
The route down was not too obvious as snow and ice deflected us a little, but in a large corrie we picked up a stalkers path out of the wind and proceeded apace.
Our Munro was a cone shape in retrospect and we now had half the sky black and half blue. 50 deer wandered away as we approached.
The loch was reached at 4pm and the car 20 minutes later.
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7 miles. 3000ft. 5hours 30minutes.
We were booked in for our first visit to Gerry's Hostel (Gerry Howkins), an independent hostel at Craig between Achnasheen and Achnashellach.
To get there we had to pass the Cluanie Hotel which was unfortunately closed.
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Gerry's was two old railway cottages knocked into one. It was spartan but functional. The kitchen had seen better days, but contained the basic gas rings, pans etc.
The lounge had a roaring log fire with a notice over it saying "If you smoke, go outside, turn right, start walking, and don’t come back."
This was one of Gerry's subtle hints, like the notice in the loo "Only two sheets per sheet!"
The wooden floored lounge also possessed a wooden table and benches in one corner and a number of old easy chairs, one sporting a card proclaiming "This seat is Gerry's, but if he is not sat on it you are welcome to use it ".
A number of old wine bottles contained candles, and the quantity of layered candle wax stood testimony to some lively evenings.
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A Christmas 'decorated freeze' from years back acted as a cornice. Odd bits of bog wood, skulls, and other natural objects were scattered around and a number were embedded in plaster to form loo tiles.
A huge and dubious pile of bedding sheets looked like it had awaited customers for perhaps half a century. The one concession to luxury was the record player with drawers full of classics.
A small cubby hole contained a selection of food. You just helped yourself and left the cash in a tin.
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Initially our host ignored us and when we spoke we just got a nod or a mime. Over a period of years we were to get to know Gerry quite well. A friend and character we knew called Alec (see Chapter 2) would have liked Gerry's.
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When we said we were going climbing the next day Gerry just crossed himself on our behalf.​
After a day or so at our first independent hostel we were given a broad hint about doing a job.
As we returned to Gerry's we saw him making a big issue about cleaning a window, and when we volunteered a job we were soon landed with "mega" chores, such as chopping logs into firewood for an hour or so, or dragging a telegraph post sized tree trunk for half a mile, or doing two years financial accounts etc.
Nev after a log chopping session
The early days saw few if any changes to this timeless place. What few improvements were made later were no doubt compulsory demands from Health & Hygiene Authorities, (abbreviated to “F’ing Bs” by Gerry) and largely carried out by volunteers.
Gerry had a reputation for being a little unusual. He was definitely a hypochondriac, and was usually on some new Peruvian Indian cure, or special "bean" or new herbal treatment.
Cooking his evening meal was his "focus of the day" and reputation has it that when someone "p****d in his pot" he chased them with an axe, but then who wouldn’t?
On a later occasion he was to flip his lid over someone having smoked when he was out. He blamed Dave Southern's brother and tried to order him outside to "sort it out" after having flung all the windows open on a freezing night and screaming abuse.
In fact the blame lay with some of Gerry's Doctor friends.
It was not uncommon to find one resident guest who sat quietly and appeared to do little. We conjectured this might be a psychiatrist weighing up the situation.
On another occasion Gerry was not amused when we came in a little the worse for wear from The Achnasheen Hotel and I put my iced boots on the log fire to thaw.
Burning leather was apparently akin to cigarette smoke.
Maybe Alec and Gerry would not have got on after all!! Gerry would sometimes come out to the pub with us, pool cue at the ready, often his first venture out for a month or so.
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I've written a song about The Legend of Gerry's Hostel complete with hilarious footage, you can hear this by clicking here. I've also written a blog about Gerry's Hostel that appeared in The Munro Society Magazine August 2026 edition. The blog can be accessed here.
Click image for song about Gerry's Hostel. If you wait the the very end of the song after the credits there are more munro bagging songs...
Commando Holland
November 4th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
1 Munro
Maol Chean Dearg
(Achnashellach)
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Heavy overnight rain had rolled the snow line back up the hills from ground level to around 2500ft.
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We set off from the gravel pit at Coulags, a few miles down the road towards Lochcarron. The east bank of the Fionn Abhain was followed to a bridge.
The river and streams were all in spate after the heavy rain and melting snow. The 20ft bridge itself was in poor shape.
It consisted of a concrete stanchion mid stream, with two pieces of timber on each side of the stanchion, to the banks.
The timber was rotten, and, in part, missing, and the timber only reached the near bank in one place, causing the planks to roll when leant upon.
Ian improvised a prop to support the free floating side, and we edged across.
Needless to say the track, although clearly visible, was boggy from standing water, and sometimes the river itself was overflowing.
Proceeding up the west bank we arrived shortly at a bothy, or deserted house. The complete building was made of pine boards in excellent condition.
Broken glass and debris needed to be cleared, but it could have been comfortable with an hour or so's work. The rain set in.
Leaving the river we turned uphill, west, on a fast, water flowing, track to a Col, and then north west to the snow covered Maol Chean Dearg summit.
The crest of the ridge was cloud covered, wet and windy and we were forced onto hands and knees for the final scramble.
Maol Chean Dearg
Moving 30 metres to the east found us enough shelter for a brew and dried fruit.
I think we crossed back over the river much higher up, a more modest adventure than on the outgoing route.
9 miles. 3000ft. 5hours 40mins.
Ian prepares to leap
November 5th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
1 Munro, 1 Top
Maoile Lunndaidh
(Gerry's)
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Boots were on by 10.00am as we abandoned the car at the end of the forest track over the railway level crossing a short distance east of Gerry's.
This short drive saved around 2 miles each way, but has since been locked to cars.
We followed the landrover road to Glenuaig Lodge buildings as it started to snow.
We then cut over the shoulder of Fuar-tholl Mor, crossing a coire burn at around 2000ft before ascending, in prolonged snow squalls, the Northwest ridge of Maoile Lunndaidh.
Ceannaichan from Maoile Lunndaidh
There was plenty of spindrift blowing about and occasional views of blue sky with snow clouds releasing their grey tell tale shadow.
We dropped Southwest and ascended the 'Once was a Munro' top of Creag Toll a Choin. (In our old books THIS was the Munro).
During the half hour on the high tops we experienced a particularly viscous wind and hail buffeting. Our descent lay in a straight line back to the Glenuaig Lodge, and the car was a welcome sight at 5.30pm.
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12 1/2 miles. 2800ft. 7hours 30mins.
This evening, Bonfire Night, we went down to "Bloody Beryl's" at the Achnasheen Hotel - my podcast and one of my blogs on Gerry's place explain how her nickname came about.
We enjoyed a family bonfire, with free treacle toffee and potatoes. We were surprised at how few of the locals went for a drink afterwards, it being only a 30 yard walk.
Feeling a certain sympathy with our landlady we stayed late.
Years later Beryl was to antagonise Gerry by opening a bunk house in direct competition.
When we stayed here our bedding and fibre experts (Malcolm and Dave Hill), were appalled at the fire hazard presented by the ex army ancient straw filled palliasses.
Their fears were not unfounded as a fire was started in the bunk rooms not long after our stay, and the whole hotel was burnt out.
Unfortunately it was so far gone it had to be demolished, leaving a bare concrete slab the only foundation for our memories.
November 6th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
1 Munro, 1 Top
Ben Wyvis
(Near Garve)
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We had been refused access to Wyvis on a previous occasion and the stalker had a reputation of being walker unfriendly. This week, however, we were after the main season and had no compunction about setting off without a phone call.
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Our chosen approach was from Garbat on the A835, north of Garve.
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We took the slushy track on the south side of the burn until clear of the trees, then plodded slowly through snow covered heather, passing a small copse, before trudging more steeply, angling ever left, to hit the summit ridge in whiteout conditions.
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When thick mist meets flat snow it is often difficult to decide which is which. You step on what you think is snow to find you have walked over an edge.
This has apparently happened often, and British mountaineer, guide and author Martin Moran experienced something similar when an avalanche carried him and his wife down Wyvis only months before.
Proceeding with compass and caution we located the Munro and moved straight off towards the more northerly top of Tom a Choinnich.
Here we enjoyed a belated, spindrifty, picnic.
There was plenty of snow underfoot as we headed down the easy flanks that dived into the V shaped wooded entry to the forest alongside the Allt na Bana-mhorar.
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9½ miles. 3700ft. 6hours.
November 7th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
2 Munros, 1 Top
A Chailleach, Sgurr Breac
(Braemar)
(Edge of Fannaichs & Whitbread Wilderness)
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On a near perfect day we parked up at 11am on the Braemore to Dundonnell road by the track to Loch a Bhraoin, from where we pushed straight uphill along the ridge of Druim Reidh to the minor top of Toman Coinich, then due west onto A Chailleach for 2.15pm.
An about turn and a couple of downs and ups brought us to Sgurr Breac for 3.15pm. This was the hill we had been blown off trying to ascend from the other side, just a year ago.
Today, in sun and mild winters day conditions, with the landscape covered in snow, was a world apart.
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11 miles. 4450ft. 6hours 15mins.
November 8th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
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I have no record of this day, so we must have had a day off, a feature of early trips.
November 9th, 1985
Ian, Malcom
No Munros
Am Faochagach
(Our only day's failure)
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We stayed at the Aultguish Inn. A feature here was that each visit revealed new owners, each saying that the Pub was in a mess and that they were going to sort it out.
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After a day off we were raring to go, but the weather had other ideas. It was horrendous, with a full gale blowing at ground level, the hills clothed in swirling white clouds, and a deep covering of snow down to the road.
We took the tarred road from Black Bridge a mile east of the Inn, and parked at the dam on Loch Vaich for 10.30am.
The car rocked alarmingly and we decided it wasn’t fit to open the door. We sat for an hour. The radio cheerily forecast force 11.
By 11.30am we were restless. Should we do something or should we abandon the day.
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Perhaps, just perhaps, if we crept up the hill by a gully on its lee side we could poke our heads up, touch the summit cairn, and beat a retreat.
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We decided to give it a go.
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Initially there was a good track round the west side of the loch, but after a mile we had to leave this to follow the south bank of the Allt Glas Toll Mor.
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Although we were out of the teeth of the gale the going was very slow due to deep pockets of fresh snow causing us to wallow waist deep at times.
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As we gained height we had the added delight of spindrift and driving snow. Towards 3pm we gained the high plateau and conditions became arctic.
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The wind and snow brought on whiteout conditions, and the temperature plummeted so that our cagoule arms froze and cracked as we moved.
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We held two brief discussions, and had to huddle to within inches of each other and shout, to be heard. Should we turn back?
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The first time we decided 2 to 1 to continue for three more minutes, the second time we voted 2 to 1 to retreat, thereby saving Malcolm's (not to mention our own) life.
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We knew we must be very near the top but conditions were worse than bad and it was already 3.10pm. It would not be light a lot longer in these conditions at this time of year and we still had to locate our exit gully.
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Our footsteps were obliterated as soon as we moved on. We could not distinguish the ground, apart from a rare tuft of coarse grass every few yards or so.
It was fortunate that the area we were in was fairly flat with no drops of any note (according to the map) although even a drop of three feet could create an incident.
Equally fortunately we quickly found our dip and we fled down as fast as possible. Even so it was well dark long before we hit the car at 5.20pm.
This was the first and only time on the munro trips that we set off and came back empty handed. We made up for our disappointment in the Aultguish.
10 miles. 2300ft. 5hours 50mins.
View on the summit plateau