Scotland – A Slight Return by weedavie
I’m out of topics relevant to Ireland so as a farewell, Simon has suggested to me that I write a note on walking in Scotland. Well fair enough, normally I’m trying to convince Munro-baggers to take a stroll in Connemara, it’s no great turn around to do my bit for our own mountains. This is actually a second draft. First time round I was describing the lot and heading for book length. So I’ve got to get particular. Come to Scotland. Come on the 19th of May and base yourself in Ullapool. Well, I can hear someone saying, "Jesus, Davie, what are you thinking of? What about Glen Affric?...or Glen Coe? And August – that’s your man." But there’s method in this and bit by bit I’ll get to it. Hopefully, you’ll come back again and not just see the Highlands. The western isles are pretty near heaven, and wild Galloway has its advocates, but we’re really going for the taster menu here. For those of you who’ve not been there, the Highlands are deserted in a way that you don’t get in Ireland except for a few benighted souls round Blacksod. At the risk of being superficial, it’s the difference between an ecological disaster, The Famine, and ethnic cleansing, The Clearances. From the late 18th century landowners cleared the country for sheep then as a Victorian deer-stalking playground. It seems to me that even in the wildest country someone in Ireland stuck with the land, where our landowners just evicted and burned. We couldn’t even blame the English; these were our own clan chiefs. On the one hand, this has its positive side, a lot of wilderness for walking that was once inhabited. The down side is that pubs can be twenty miles apart and hostile when you get there. So choose Ullapool. A fishing village on Loch Broom, a few hotels, lots of B&Bs – many not operated by white settlers – and some reasonable howffs for drinking. Stay in one of the B&Bs such as Westlea, Point Cottage or the Sheiling. Upmarket is something like the Ceilidh Place. There aren’t many places going for the top end of the market so prices increase rapidly. Places to avoid are the tourist hotels which charge high but cater for the coach tours. The Ferry Boat Inn is a good old pub but if I was eating, the Ceilidh Place is the best formal choice. The Seaforth is a barn of a place but it shares the kitchen with the award-winning chip shop next door. It serves excellent ,well-cooked local sea food at low prices. After 11 it gets lively – often scarily so. I was in one evening with a bunch of sullen Russians off the boats, Catholic South Uist men and Protestant Lewis men jibing at each other (they were on their way back after a Celtic Rangers match and would be getting the morning ferry), a folk band playing (which is far less common than in Ireland) and a local drunk organising a choir to sing some other completely different songs. Violence never erupted but it felt a bit like you’d imagine Dodge City and Wyatt Earp off on his holidays. OK, you’ve arrived in Ullapool. You’ve driven through some fantastic territory and you’re looking forward to walking tomorrow. You walk down by the lochside to the FBI, soaking in the sheer beauty of a northern twilight. This is why you’ve come in May. From the end of May the midges control the evenings. These little suckers will drive you mad. They’ll eat you alive. Kill 200 of them and you’ll just be flooded with relatives for the funeral. They rule the air till September. Another risk is the impossibly romantic atmosphere of loch and hill. You may wish to bring your own partner, though some of our more rapacious landlords may charge corkage. But don’t go making eyes at the hairy-arsed mountaineer beside you. It’ll likely all end in tears. So we’re almost ready for the hills. But first, a word on lists. We’ve got lists like a dog has fleas, Munros, Corbetts, Donalds, Grahams, Marilyns. As a visitor you’ve probably got an idea that Munros are what matter and you’re going to do one or bust. Even if you’re not entirely clear what they are. Well they are separate mountains over 3000 feet. They were initially on a list created by Sir Hugh Munro in the 19th century. It was very much his own opinion and as well as summits he listed tops, subsidiary 3000 feet summits. It’s not always too clear what the difference is, he made a lot of subjective judgements. Since then the SMC, our mountaineering bufties, have had ownership and done a lot of tinkering. The list now stands at 284 Munros and 221 tops. Most days of the week it’s hard to do these hills without meeting people and there are heavily worn tracks to each of them. A little ingenuity though can get you a route to yourself. Corbetts are well defined. They are hills between 2500 and 3000 and with a 500 feet drop separating them from a higher summit. They’re far less used than Munros. These are the major categories and there are some fantastic hills which are smaller still. You’ll also want a guide book. The outstanding ones are Ralph Storer’s 100 Walks and Nick William’s Pocket Mountains – Northern Highlands. Nick William’s books came out in the last few years and they are imaginative occasionally bordering on batty but a ton of fun. The SMC’s Munros is an excellent overall book and Muriel Gray’s First Fifty and Tom Patey’s One Man’s Mountains are about the best volumes on falling in love with mountains I’ve ever read. Avoid anything by Cameron McNeish, especially his Munros book. He’s dull and an alleged plagiarist who came near being sued on that score by the SMC for his Corbett Almanac. I’ve got three routes to suggest and please note these are just suggestions. You’d be mad to head out on the hills on the vague instructions of a nutter you’ve encountered on the web. Any routes in these hills should be done with map, compass and an intelligent outlook. Myself, I’ve got the first two. Anyway, you’ve got to get that Munro so we’ll take that first. This is not the best route in the area but it’s good and it gives you a view of a wide selection of the best. The hills are Sgurr Breac and A’Chailleach. They’re outliers of the Fannaichs a group of hills about 15 miles south of Ullapool. Take the A835 south of town until you come to the A832 junction. Go west here for 4 miles along the Destitution Road, built as famine relief after our potato blight in 1851. Park at the end of a bank of forestry as the road bends right. There’s a track to your left that takes you into heaven. The track goes down to Loch a Bhraoin which you go round to the east. You carry on south up the glen by the Allt Breabaig. At the bealach you climb west to Sgurr Breac. Now for a note on access. We’ve recently had freedom of access legislation passed in Scotland. Up till then we had a de facto right. This stemmed from us having a totally separate legal system from the rest of the UK. We didn’t have a criminal offence of trespass so you had to sue for damage caused and that’s not easy, even against clowns like mountain bikers. With the new legislation there are now rights and responsibilities. One good thing is that no track should have a locked gate without a way round, stile or side-gate. One of the debating points is access during the deer stalking season. This lasts from the start of July to about 20th October (for stags, though hinds are culled on into February). During this time the estates don’t want you shifting the deer that paying clients want to slaughter. It’s major income for the region so no matter how freaky we see the sport we try to cooperate. Good estates will post notices and provide phone numbers to avoid collisions (see Hill Phones on the web). Bad estates will try to keep everyone out from July to February. The estate you’re looking out on used to be notorious but I hear it’s now giving unconditional access at weekends during the season and negotiating for access on weekdays. Anyway it’s another hassle, so aren’t you glad you’re here in May.
Back to Sgurr Breac. From this summit, ahead and to your right you’ve a wilderness. The big beast is An Teallach. If you’d wanted to rush things you could have gone there today. It’s a red sandstone monster, easy enough on the baggers’ ascent but I’ve only heard fearful tales of the other routes. Ahead of you is Fisherfield Forest and 12 miles until the next public road. There’s a dozen Munros and Corbetts in there which you only get either by being ultra fit or through a multi-day expedition, camping or staying in a bothy. Wild camping is again part of our access rights with limits on proximity to dwellings. Bothies are shelters of various levels of unsophistication in wild areas where you can find basic cover and weird companionship. They don’t run to electricity or water. Sheneval bothy is the key to this area. Heading into these areas you have also tricky rivers to ford and if the rain’s really pouring you may find them impossible to return over. But you’re just going on to A’Chailleach over an intervening top which you could traverse round instead. May in Scotland can still give you hard weather. I’ve crossed Sgurr Breac in a T-shirt and been in full winter gear including goggles on A’Chailleach and finished the walk in a T-shirt again. From A’Chailleach there’s a good route down the north ridge which I’ve not tried or you can go back to the centre top and go down its north ridge. Either way return east along Loch a Bhraoin. The second route is Quinag, the milk churn. This is about 30 miles north of Ullapool on the A835, A837 and finally four miles along the A894 to its highest point. Connaught-lovers will have felt totally at home on the drive, as rocky hills erupt from miles of bog. Quinag is special, a long North to South ridge with a big North-East extension. It’s busy for a Corbett
(in fact it has three separate Corbett summits) but it’s a succession of superb viewpoints and an easy day. From the car park go west then north-west to Spidean Coinich, a dramatic rocky summit. From there it’s about three kilometres of narrow ridge with occasional mild scrambling to Sail Gorm. The view west to the sea has been tremendous all the way but now a stunning vista emerges to the north. Return to half way, then go east to Sail Gharbh. Return along the ridge and when it looks safe descend to the corrie and traverse back to the car-park. I’d have got more lyrical about this walk but the last time I was up it was on a soaking, cloud-covered day. I love the hill so I kept describing the fabulous views we should have been getting to my companions. It’s the sort of nervous talking you do to cover the silence of the friend you’ve brought along after telling everyone he was great crack and he turns out just to have been dumped by the girlfriend and is wearing his broken heart on his sleeve. "Davie, feck off." they finally said. Do this hill on a good day. One thing you’ll have noted by now is that we’ve more wild-life than you. We’re plagued with deer but with luck you’ve also seen half a dozen raptors, maybe including an eagle, hares now almost out of their winter white, lizards, snakes, pine-martens and voles. You’ll have seen a lot of birds and possibly seen my favourite, the ptarmigan. They’re not as noisy as their cousins the grouse, change their colours three times a year and will walk around in a fussy fashion when you disturb them rather than flying away. You only see them above 700 metres and you’ll meet them there looking perfectly at home in a winter blizzard. If you see one say hello.
The third walk and maybe the best is Ben Mor Coigach. Nine miles north of Ullapool, it’s two miles to the west on the minor road to Achiltibuie. Walk south along the Allt Claonaidh to Lochan Tuath. There you’ll stand in total awe of Sgurr an Fhidhleir. This is a 400 metre near-vertical rock prow. Just getting here would make anyone’s day but head up the gully on your left then make your way easily back to the summit. Go as near to the edge as you like to get a view back down the 400 metres to the lochan. For me, I tend to believe that it may have stood like this since the last Ice Age but today’s the day it’s going to fall again. Anyone familiar with this feeling will know that when a loved one goes near the edge, this feeling becomes a certainty and your essentials make an attempt to climb into the pit of your stomach as fear kicks in. Gill can’t see a cliff without looking over, so I’ve shed all my hair.
From Sgurr an Fhidleir retreat about three hundred metres until you’re sure you’re passed the cliffs then head up south onto Ben Mor Coigach itself. Explore the fantastic narrow ridge running just south of west to end up over Loch Broom. On a good day you’ll just sit here in awe. Return and bypass the summit on the south. It’s worth a visit to the free-standing top of Speicein Coinnich on your way for a perspective back along the ridge. Finally, traverse Beinn Tarsuinn then drop north west to rejoin the Allt Claonaidh and retrace your steps. Anyway, that’s it, Scotland and welcome to it. We’ve not got what you’ve got in acceptance of tourism – try getting the pub singing in Kinlochewe if you want a real challenge. However our best beer’s better than yours and a surprising number of pubs north of the Great Glen are fed by local breweries. Above all we’ve got, not a wilderness but a once-populated area that’s now a desert to wander in. Come, enjoy, and try to raise a song for the people that are gone. Afternotes: White settlers is the pet name for incomers, largely English but not necessarily so. There are many incomers who bring a major contribution to depopulating areas but in places like Plockton, Surrey on Sea, it’s more like an expat community and there’s definite tension. Ullapool is a working port and is unlikely to be culturally swamped. Changes to the Munro list when heights are resurveyed are fair enough. The last eight additions were advisedly for aesthetic reasons. It’s more likely they were to boost flagging sales of the Munros book. In the same changes a Munro which had been promoted on similar grounds 20 years earlier was relegated again. My count of tops is a guess. Only the second page and I was already hacked off with research. I’ve found out Simon’s a podophobe. So a Munro is higher then 914.4 metres and a Corbett is between 762 and 914.3 with a 152.4 drop. That’s easier isn’t it? For an argued description of McNeish’s ill deeds see http://bubl.ac.uk/org/tacit/TAC/tac51/atriskof.htm Actually if you head into private ground 6 abreast or blacken your faces, you move from trespass to poaching and can be arrested. So don’t combine walking with extremes of stag-party behaviour. For more detail on freedom of access try http://www.mountaineering-scotland.org.uk/access/code_guide.html Bealach is one Gaelic word that remains standard walking parlance. It’s the equivalent of the Irish Mam for pass, which is not very common over here. Although in general use, it fairly gets massacred – the English can only master beelack and I doubt our bee yallach is little more authentic. Do it on a good day is the sort of advice you should never give, so please put it down to nervousness. You see it on inane websites in Scotland. Go on a claggy day and have the experience of the clouds parting in dramatic style. The other negative effect of this advice is that people head for underrated hills on these days and their reputation gets even worse. Ben Chonzie occasionally gets called Scotland's most boring hill which is mince. The high level round of Loch Turret with it as a centre piece is the berries. Go on, if you get hooked on Munros, do this one on a clear day. If you’ve loved Ullapool and want more then here are a few bullet points. Glencoe and the Black Mount are steep and spectacular but crowded in summer. The Cairngorms are massive, slab sided and demand long expeditions. Glen Affric is the most beautiful place in Scotland. Fort William is horrible but nearby Spean Bridge is a good centre for the Mamores, with the Ring of Steall, a top high level walk, Ben Nevis and the Grey Corries. Or just don’t go home, grab the morning boat to Stornoway and get the fantastic hills of Harris all to yourself.
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