An Grianan

Monday – Mike went off to have a go at Buachaille Etive Mor, which, of course, I have already done. So I spent the morning in a murderous rampage inside the tent plus a bit of light mopping.
At some point in the afternoon, I decided to go off and bag the 1800 foot lump of An Grianan (A Little Frog) – who’s summit lies just about three miles from the camping ground – but up the soggy but richly vegetated approach to Trilleachain (Hill of the Budgie Food incidentally) mentioned somewhere previously.
I got there in sweaty weather and dozed off by the little cairn but was awakened by a chill about half an hour later. Clouds and rain were spilling over hills to the West, so, to the barking of a truculent stag somewhere in the woods, I beat a hasty retreat, not quite making it back to the tent by a very wet hour or so.
I thought of going home at this point, but dozed off and when I awoke I had somehow consumed half a bottle of South African red and a couple of bottles of Budweiser, so Budwiseley, I decided to go back to the snoozing.
An Grianan was just 6 miles and 1900 feet of uphill. Quite a nice little hill, as it happens, in the midst of so many bigger and craggier lumps. The East ridge of Beinn Sgulaird (Hill of the Teacher’s Pet) looks very interesting from there. A good place where thinking about a difficult problem might produce a result.
Or it might not.

Usually doesn’t, I find, actually.

Sgurr nam h-Ulaidh

Sunday the weather wasn’t vastly improved, but we couldn’t be sitting around squashing insects, so we decided on Sgurr nam h-Ulaidh (Peak of the Moisturising Cream).
For this, we had to go back to Invercharnan and do the same route through the forest, but instead of turning off for Findlay’s Peak, we went straight on up the corrie – right up the corrie, in fact to a bealach between Ulaidh’s main ridge and Meall a Bhuiridh, its 748 metre outlier. Mike went off to bag this whilst I struggled manfully with the severely uphill bits of this hill. The SMC guide says that the route from Glen Etive avoids all steep ground. Hah! Seems pretty steep to me, in fact, at one point, there’s a slabby crag. Its not difficult to bypass this with a short and easy scramble – but it’s a crag. Seems pretty steep all the way up.
I had about half an hours wait for Mike, during which time the brothers and sisters of the poor souls I had so brutally murdered the day before caught up with me and gave me a bit of a going over.
A lad from the National Trust info centre in Glencoe turned up – still with his name badge on. He asked us if we’d done “the ridge” yet?? !? he meant Aonach Eagach. Course he did. We hadn’t and wouldn’t be doing it this time around. I was, by this time, frankly, knackered and up for another day of cruelty to insects.
We descended by the steep Corr na Beinn ridge and back home to pull the legs of something.
Another 9 miles and 3200 feet of uphill.
The views today were improved somewhat (in my opinion) by the loads of fluffy clouds that were in – coming and going and floating around just like clouds do.
Luckily, the weather was looking sufficiently iffy for me to excuse myself from anything big and go and bag a little Marilyn I had noticed not too far from the campsite.

Day Four - Nothing happened

Saturday dawned wet and itchy in a quite mad running about screaming sort of way.
I zipped up the mozzie net of the tent and retreated to my mopping activities.
I had energy bars for breakfast – it being far too dangerous to cook. I slaughtered midgies by the thousand., sometimes with a deet-soaked finger and sometimes with a direct tent-fabric-destroying spray. I laughed at their discomfort. I didn’t go for a walk, although Mike decided to explore Trilleachain at about 3:00 pm.
Its Ok, though, in Scotland to set out this late because it doesn’t actually go dark in June.
I met him later on the shore path. The midgies had succumbed a bit to the breeze. I talked to a lad from Gourock who was firing an air gun at a target, and, occasionally at a seagull. He missed the seagull. He said it wasn't a seagull anyway, it was something else. Looked like a seagull to me.
We determined that we could utilise his car-thieving skills to get Mike’s van going if he failed to return from Trilleachain. Apparently, he could organise new number plates… You meet an interesting selection of people in the Highlands.
He had a lurcher dog. Very nice dog. I refused the vodka as I had some red wine left…

Beinn Fionnlaidh

Friday – Day 3 of our Glen Etive holiday was finally time to get down to business and bag a Munro.
The victim would have to be the easiest we could find – Beinn Fhionnlaidh a couple of miles up the glen from the camping ground. The hill’s name translates as “Findlay’s Hill” by the way…
Anyway, the weather for today’s walk was just about as good as Scottish Highland weather could get – bright, sunny, little wind, and fairly warm.
So we parked the chariot at Invercharnan and wandered up the forest tracks by the Allt nan Gaoirean and followed a stream up to the little top of Meall nam Gobhar.
A bit of light scrambling and scree-struggling brought us to the Eastern top, scientifically named “Point 841” and a very attractive wander up the long ridge of Fionnlaidh followed, including a couple of slightly off-balance rocksteps, which we avoided on the way down by a neat little rockstep avoiding path which..er..avoided..the..er…rocksteps….
A cracking view from the top included the Paps of Jura, Ben Nevis and some big hills beyond Ben Nevis.
Superb bit of hillwalking today and the weather couldn’t have been better.
Back to another evening battle with the pesky little buggers at my tent door.
As David Attenborough once said of these little victories of evolution “Aaaaargh, they’re in me ears….”
9 miles and 3400 feet of uphill. And, oddly enough, the same amount of downhill.
The weather started to break in the evening, unfortunately, the sky turning milky and grey. Not promising.

Beinn Trilleachain

Mike was apparently suffering from Frost Heave, or something linked to far too much whisky to be arsed with walking anywhere on Thursday and plumped for the fleshpots of Glencoe
I decided to relocate my tent to the head of the loch, where there is an informal camping ground, and after fighting off a couple of grey hordes of blood-sucking midgleys, went for a little strollette up the local Corbett , one Beinn Trilleachain.
This hill is specially famous for its slabs of granite, upon which a few generations of rock climbers have scared the willies out of themselves.
As a walk, it’s a bit damp at first, and the local vegetation is green and lush and hard to fight a way through – but the route eventually starts up the upturned hull-shape of a hill and tiptoes up a few nicely angled slabs, and then down a few more to the final rounded top, where, it was perishing cold.
The views all around are quite fab, though and if you have a short half day spare, this is a cracking hill to bag.
I returned via a lot more slabs to a little lochan and then back to my dinner.
Just six fab miles and just about 3000 feet of climbing.
Discovered that the tent leaks both water and midgies. Bugger.