This range of mountains have proven to be troublesome in that winter attempts saw weather changes which required a bale out due to deteriorating conditions. The western part of the range proved to be no exception. My first attempt in the winter with full winter gear, ice axe, crampons and so on with all their incumbent weight saw next to no snow with the surrounding mountains an off greenish beige colour.
Sgurr Mor
The initial trek through woodland was fine on a solid vehicle track, but then I had to cut down through thick heather, make a dodgy river crossing balancing on loose boulders and then continue up through boggy terrain. On reaching the bealach I dropped my gear and headed up the first target, An Coileachan with only my camera gear, it ws windy and I didn’t stop long.
Bealach Ban
Looking to the next days planned objective
I decided to stop on Bealach Ban at 775m high, I’d picked up water on the way up so was set, it was dull grey and I was tired by this point, time to retire, it was afternoon tea time. With such boring light there were no grand vistas to photograph so tucked into my sleeping bag for some reading, then part of a movie downloaded on the mobile. One has to be a little civilised after all…
Later that night it started to rain and the wind picked up, the forecast suggested no pickup in wind speed and only light snow the next day.
Soulo tent battling blizzard conditions.
I awoke to howling wind and blizzard conditions, I peeked outside to see snow flying past horizontally, I immediately hunkered back down into my winter sleeping bag and heavenly warmth. This wasn’t foreseen, I’d planned to camp another night up on the ridge line, but it would be even windier up there, and at present in was in the clag, nothing to see. There was nothing for it to but to head out and return another time, a long lie in was called for, at least until it was time to answer the call of nature, brrr.
A spindrift filled vestibule.
With a stove full of spindrift there would be no hot breakfast, just flapjacks and some cold water, packing up would call on practiced skill and caeful speed in these conditions.
Sgurr Mor hiding in the cloud.
That was the end of the March winter attempt, fast forward to June and the summer err, okay, and a rematch was called for.
I decided to go anti clockwise this time, the weather forecast looked stable and it was a go, once again through the same woodland and along the track for a kilometre longer and cutting off in the opposite direction to my last visit.
I made it to my proposed camp ‘one' at 757m high having picked up water as far up as I could and yes, it started to rain as I scoured around for a good spot. As quickly as I could I got my tent up but the ground was soft and stony so had to collect rocks to weigh the pegs down. Once up and taught I dived in, a little on the damp side but glad to be under shelter.
A breezy, damp camp 1
The rain increased as I cooked under cover battering on the fly sheet, it seemed there would be no photos tonight and it was by now getting late. However later, on answering the call of nature the rain had ceased and the wind abated a little, looking towards Loch Broom there was an opportunity. It was action stations and getting the camera set up.
End of day over Loch Broom.
Moon rise over the Durston X-Mid.
After a cosy night the next morning dawned with hardly any wind and a little sunshine, things were looking up, or so I thought. After breakfast I discovered I had signal so checked the weather forecast. Uh oh, you guessed it, all change from winds gusting to 20 mph now increasing through the day gusting to 60 mph, yikes, that put an end to the camp 2 along the ridge line.
I was here and decided I was going to push on and finish the other three mountains that had eluded me on my last visit no matter what, I would see about a lower camp for the second night. I packed up and slowly made my way up Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich at 954m, it was getting breezy.
I didn’t linger, Sgurr Mor was calling and it was the highest point of the trip at 1110m, it was a long slow slog with the wind building making breathing difficult all the way until it was howling on the summit. Nevertheless I decided to lunch here huddled behind the stone cairn, ha, I didn’t stop long but I was determined to enjoy the view, I’d earned it.
It was a long pull with a minor summit to straddle before the final mountain of Meal Gorm at 949m, the wind was getting stronger and it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other now each gust pulling and pushing each step this way and that. I took a breather in a massive stone shelter and had a snack before pushing on to the camp site of the previous outing back in March. I thought I might stop here but it was way too windy so dropped down a little further.
Looking back to Sgurr Mor.
I dropped lower and lower but the wind seem to chase and harry me as I searched in vain for a suitable camping spot, the shoulders ached as did the legs from the effort of scouting around.
Beinn Dearg and Cona’ Mheall, a past adventure.
I’d gotten so low now a thought entered my head, push on out and head home, it was still a little windy but it was super boggy all around with little hope of finding dry ground.
My shoulders and hips begged, my legs pleaded to not go any further but there was nothing for it, trudge on out…ouch.
A trudge it was having started at just after 7 in the morning I made it back to the car at around 7 in the evening and with a tiring 3 hour drive home, 10pm saw me falling in the front door exhausted. I was taught in my horse riding days to sort your horse and gear first before yourself, I carried this practice over. I quickly sorted through my gear, hung things up to air, put things to wash and then threw a pizza in the oven and me in the gloriously hot shower.
It wasn’t quite the adventure I’d planned, it being a hard won trial of endurance in the end, but I was buoyed by the satisfaction of having conquered the Fannich problem.