EUHWC Newsletter April 2024
Here in Edinburgh, the clouds of exams cast a dark shadow over the land. Fortunately, the weather’s always good in the Highlands for a bit of R&R.
Estimated reading time: 10 minutes
Here in Edinburgh, the clouds of exams cast a dark shadow over the land. Fortunately, the weather’s always good in the Highlands for a bit of R&R.
Read on for:
The report on two special talks presented to the club
One club member’s report on his recent visit to Glen Affric
Photos from recent club activities
In the footsteps of Nan Shepherd
Hannah Collier
On the 12th of March, EUHWC hosted a talk by Jennifer McGowan for International Women’s Day. Jennifer is part of a team of women who embarked on a micro-expedition following in the footsteps of the legendary Nan Shepherd. Their hike was based on Nan’s book ‘The Living Mountain’, from which they planned a four-day hike in the Cairngorms. Jennifer’s talk aimed to spread the word about Nan-style walking, a style of hiking that is slower and more ‘mindful.’ The Following Nan expedition group found that this allowed women of all abilities to complete a four-day hike and found that they could appreciate (and better remember) their time out in the hills.
Now, this may be because I like to inhale packets of chocolate digestives, but I like the sound of a slower-paced, conscious style of hiking. Munro-bagging is a brilliant way to explore vast swathes of Scotland and motivates you to push yourself to your limits. But there isn’t just one way to hike. EUHWC already incorporates some Nan-style practices – such as our recent endeavours in skinny-dipping and Donald-bagging. But I strongly believe that hikes can never be too short or too slow, and there is merit in hiking purely to enjoy being out in nature. As a club, practising this style of hiking can also encourage new, inexperienced hikers to ease themselves into Highland walking and make hillwalking more accessible.
Winter 282 with Kevin Woods
Ellie Bestington
After the more relaxed talk the week prior on the ‘Nan-style’ of hiking, it was time to go in the complete opposite direction: Munro-bagging. And not just any kind of Munro-bagging, a Munro round…in winter. Yes, I am speaking of what only 4 people have ever compleated (congrats recent compleatist Anna Wells), a winter Munro round. It is as hard as it sounds.
After far too many emails trying to sort out a venue (thank you Silas) and logistics talk with Kevin, we finally had a time and date to screen the film, with Kevin there himself for a Q&A after. Despite the minor technical difficulties at the beginning regarding sound, we still began on time.
Kevin Woods compleated his winter Munro round during the winter of 2019-2020, arguably one of the wettest winters in recent history, with multiple storms battering the UK. The season was one non-stop procession of Atlantic westerlies with brief lulls between. In Kevin’s words, ‘never a moment for auto-pilot or for complacency.’ The trip takes in around 2,000km of mountain terrain, pairing the demands of walking long distances with wintry weather. He was nearly caught short too, right at the last Munro, as the COVID-19 pandemic caught up with him. He came close to not even finishing it at all.
Now, I am no film critic, so forgive my mediocre attempt to sounds like the editor of the film column of The Times. The film was epic. It perfectly highlighted the highs and lows of such an incredible challenge, from the blue bird days with breathtaking sunsets, to the almost deathly slip on Bruach na Frithe, and even the more emotional aspect of his round at risk of being incomplete due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
The evening was finished with a Q&A in which members eagerly asked a variety of questions (which I sadly do not remember). As everyone vacated the venue, we left Chris to swoon chat with Kevin, a fellow summer round compleatist. Overall, it was a fantastic evening, and we hope to work with Kevin again in the future to show his future projects.
“I could tell from the way everyone was nodding when I mentioned a Munro that you guys really love hills.”
Editor’s note: if you haven’t gotten enough of Kevin Woods recently, check out his interview on WalkHighlands, in which he says, ‘the outdoors world does itself no favours by claiming the mountains as wilderness, for the reality is far more interesting,’ among other soundbitable things.
The Straw(berry) that broke the Saab’s back
Dr George Peat PhD
“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley”
The plan:
Gather twelve keen hillwalking beans for an Easter extravaganza in the charmingly- but confusingly-named Strawberry Cottage.
Use Farquaad the Fiesta and the Wasey Wagon to negotiate the rough five-mile track into the hut
Have a glorious time walking in the unspoilt beauty of Glen Affric with a comfortable mountain hut as a base
Return safely to the other cars
Return to Edinburgh/Ardnamurchan/Hebden/Glenelg having completed many Munros
Several things transpired to slightly ruin these plans before we arrived, which are detailed below.
Former EUHWC President, Abbie, developed a case of exploded knee, so despite having booked the hut, she couldn’t actually join.
Farquaad developed a case of Square Wheel Syndrome a week earlier on the way to Cannich. Parks Ford Inverness were asked to order a new wheel and fit it in time for the next Friday; they said that was fine and proceeded to not order a new wheel. I discovered this on the Friday, when I walked onto the forecourt laden down with walking gear and espied the unmistakable, but sadly familiar, sight of an undriveable vehicle. At the time of writing, negotiations are still ongoing.
The Wasey Wagon developed a case of front wheels pointing in different directions, so was dumped in Perth on the way up, with Tiernan’s Mini taking up the slack.
Despite being two cars and one President down, we were not to be deterred. Using Tiernan’s Mini and Tom’s 1998 Saab 9-3, we got the first load of walkers to the hut and set about the usual business of making a mountain hut habitable while Tom headed off to pick up Mikey and the large pile of bags Laura had left with him. We discovered that the water was disconnected due to it being winter, the electricity was lacking due to a lack of sunlight for solar panels, and the backup generator was not actually generating any leccy, despite going through a decent amount of petrol.Refusing to let such minor issues defeat us, we dusted off the hut water filter, siphoned some liquid gold from the very full rain butt and broke out head-torches for some lovely atmospheric evening lighting.
Just as we thought we’ve had enough bad luck for the trip, Tom returned, and broke several bits of news which are summarised below.
Bad news: a rogue rock on the track had come out of nowhere and proven more than a match for twenty-six-year-old Swedish engineering, cracking his oil sump
Good news: no more oil was coming out of the crack
Bad news: there is no oil left
Good news: he has excellent breakdown cover
Bad news: the breakdown van can only pick the car up from the end of the public road, five miles away
Good news: with the Saab’s dying breath , it brought a crate of Tennent’s, several bottles of wine and the ingredients for baby Guinness along to the hut
With plans for the rest of the evening sorted we eventually headed to respective beds and drifted off to sleep, looking forward to whatever the rest of the weekend would bring.
Saturday had three separate groups heading out in the morning, Tiernan’s Troupe going up the very remote An Socach and Sgurr nan Ceathreamhnan, my gang tackling the exceedingly lovely Corbett of Carn a’ Choire Ghairbh (I had completed the nearby Munros the previous weekend in a marvel of planning), and Tom and Mikey headed towards signal to brainstorm options for rescuing the Saab and returning to Edi.
Who says Corbetts can’t have sick views
Everyone had a grand day, and we retired back to the hut where solutions were suggested for the Saab rescue. Initially the plan was to go to Cannich and find a friendly local with a 4x4, but this was blown out of the water by the suggestion that we use Tiernan’s Mini to tow instead. A decent amount of squinting at the vehicle manual (ignoring the part about never towing a load heavier than the pulling vehicle) and a few testing pushes of Tom’s car led us to think that it was worth a shot, and thus, a team was assembled. With Tiernan behind one wheel, Tom behind another, and Alex, Calum, and myself on pushing duty (fuelled by a healthy amount of vitamin T), we eventually got the twenty-six-year-old Swede all the way back to the public road. While there was initially an audience, everyone else quickly realised that a swim in Loch Affric would be much more enjoyable, so wandered off for a much more pleasant afternoon. The rest of the evening was rounded off nicely with merriment, star-gazing and an ever-dwindling booze supply before once again, sleep claimed all.
Introducing the newest major team sport, the five mile Saab push
Sunday dawned bright and clear with little to no wind: in other words, a perfect day to be up hills. This was not to be the case for us though, as a combination of the hut clean and the walk out to the cars meant that any north-western hills wouldn’t allow a return to Edinburgh at a reasonable hour for work on Monday. Added to this, a few selfless souls took the train back from Inverness due to the lack of vehicle spaces, leaving the Saab rescue crew and Laura in the Cannich Spar. Fortunately, the Spar is also a licensed premises where you can buy a pint and food and consume these in an old bus parked next door.
Sampling the finest ales Cannich Spar has to offer (Sorry Laura for photo choice)
A few swift halves later, we abandoned Laura and set off south, managing to survive the cramped conditions of five fellas and all our gear in a mini by taking a few cans for the road (delicious local Glen Affric beers then white claws) and by putting P-plates on the car when Tiernan nipped to the loo at a garage. Despite these shenanigans our legs were getting mighty cramped, and so, at about 5.30pm we stopped in Perthshire for a quick walk around and stretch. This took us to the top of the scientifically significant, but otherwise uninspiring, Schiehallion, marking Tiernan’s half-way point on his Munro journey, and the fourth time Calum has ascended that particular peak. A quick jog down and a quick drive later, we were back in Edinburgh. Though our Munro tallies were largely unchanged, we were much richer with memories (but poorer in a real sense due to cars and trains etc).
Top of Schiehallion. One person didn’t get the outfit memo
P.S. Four days later, it transpired that we had accidentally stolen the toilet key and brought it back to Edinburgh with us. Hopefully no-one is planning on being up there for a little while.
tl;dr: Strawberry Cottage is good, but take a car with high ground clearance.
Club photos
That’s it!
Thanks for reading, and until next time, happy hillwalking!
If you’re a club member or alumna/alumnus and have any stories, photos, sketches, poems, songs or interpretive dance routines inspired by your recent hillwalking adventures, we’d love to share them on this blog! Get in touch at edunihillwalkingalumni@gmail.com.
EUHWC Newsletter February 2024
Alumni meet information, photos from recent meets and general hillwalking news
Estimated reading time: 10 minutes
Read on for:
Alumni trip info. Alumni, come and get your rightful pre-sign!
Pictures from recent meets and events
Hillwalking-related miscellany
Book review: The Last Hillwalker by John D Burns
Alumni meet reminder 🚐
The Alumni meet is coming up! Organised by none other than my humble self. I’m a great organiser: ask anyone about Christmas dinner in Eskdale! (Don’t ask them about where the minibus was at the time.)
Dates: Friday the 8th of March to Sunday the 10th.
Location: Glencoe SYHA.
Alumni: contact me for your rightful pre-sign!
Club activites: in pictures
There have been two weekend meets since the last blog post: Eskdale in December, and Ullapool at the end of January.
Eskdale: planning
Eskdale: chilling out in the living room
Eskdale: an unexpected visitor…
Eskdale: making the best of it on Sca Fell
Ullapool: coming off Beinn a’ Chaisteal
Ullapool: fording a burn near Inchnadamph
Ullapool: reacting to the Toast to the Lassies
Ullapool: making the best of the weather
Ullapool: Arnauld on a Grade VI spider’s web
Ullapool: off for a faff
Ullapool: doesn’t look that bad…
In other news
Anna Wells continues her attempt to become the fourth person, and first woman, to complete a winter round of the Munros. She publishes regular updates on her Instagram account, rocksandtrails.
Hillwalker Mike Pavitt arguably set a new winter Cuillin traverse record, completing the legendary challenge in less than 4h 36min. His achievement on the 11th of January beat the previous 2018 record, set by Uisdean Hawthorne, by more than twenty minutes. However, Pavitt acknowledged that, while he had worn crampons all day and that there was ‘lots of ice’ and ‘surface hoar’, the conditions were considerably less wintry than might be expected. He wrote on Instagram that ‘I'm putting this out there as not a claim of anything but just as me having a nice day.’
Beavers are to be re-introduced to the upper Spey. NatureScot gave a five-year license to the Cairngorms National Park Authority for the release of up to fifteen families, in line with the national Beaver Strategy which it has produced on behalf of the Scottish Government. Rothiemurchus estate is asking visitors to give the beavers space and quiet, stick to paths and keep dogs under close control.
At least nine areas have now expressed interest in becoming Scotland’s third National Park as a group led by Strathglass Community Council launches a National Park bid for Affric & Loch Ness. The Scottish Government has committed to at least one new National Park by Easter 2026.
Industry plans for the erection of 4G masts in remote parts of the Highlands have provoked strong criticism from interested groups. Private Eye (issue 1614) reports that government targets for 4G coverage are measured in terms of land area, not population, and as a consequence, land classified as ‘wild’, where planning restrictions are looser, are being prioritised for the erection of 4G masts, even in sparsely populated areas where there are few or even no residents to benefit. Ever to be counted on where development in wild land is involved, Mountaineering Scotland has objected to the plans, as have the National Trust, the John Muir Trust, and, perhaps more importantly, Highland Council.
Mountaineering Scotland has opened its annual Mountain Writing Competition. There is a Prose category and a Poetry category. Entries cost £7.50. Submission is open until 5pm on the 1st of March 2024.
Book review: The Last Hillwalker
Too often, hillwalking literature struggles to truly break free from the guidebook genre. As a result, memoirs can often end up reading like lists of walk reports. In stark contrast, The Last Hillwalker by John D Burns (Vertebrate Publishing, 2017) is a work of serious storytelling. In the few years since it was published, Burns has already won for himself a high reputation for this, his debut book, and he deserves it. In it, he explores his changing relationship with hillwalking as he, and the world around him, get older.
The narrative is underpinned by a dark cloud of mortality, which gets continually heavier as Burns gets older throughout the book. This sense of mortality gives the narrative a sense of moral weight. It prompted me to reflect on why, how and how much hillwalking does and should matter to the author, and by extension, to myself. Despite that gravity, it is not at all a depressing read. Most of the book is occupied with fun things the author did in the hills, not morose ponderings. The pondering, where it does happen, is tastefully light-touch, and proceeds naturally from the narrative account of the author’s life.
As Burns gets older and his situation changes, we see how his relationship with hillwalking changes, too. As such, the book helpfully debunks the myth that the pleasures of hillwalking are a culturally blank ‘return to Eden.’ Burns shows how in his life, his relationship with hillwalking has been defined by his class background, the cultural and historical situation, the available technology, and his own physical fitness and experience. The rag-tag cultural rebels of the 1970s, clad in their wooly jumpers and aging World War 2 army surplus, are replaced by the prim-and-proper professionals in their synthetic fleeces and modern boots in the 1980s. Burns himself transforms from a sprightly but inexperienced youth, to a fit, mature, but sometimes headstrong mountain rescue team member, to a plodding fifty-something with an intricate understanding of the things he’s no longer fit enough to do. We follow his relationship with hillwalking as it is remoulded by these swirling historical currents. As such, it’s valuable to us as hillwalkers, giving us the broader perspective that shows the way we walk is not a given.
There are plenty of adventures in this book, but it is not an adventure book. The stories that he tells are not your usual story of bravado. The stories are usually about a mistake the author made, a new challenge he didn’t know how to overcome, or a lesson he learned along the way. Each account is carefully crafted to move forward his bigger personal story.
So, if you haven’t yet had the pleasure of reading the book and you’re looking for a top-quality hillwalking read, I can, without hesitating, heartily recommend this book.
Buy The Last Hillwalker by John D Burns from Vertebrate Publishing
That’s it!
Thanks for reading, and until next time, happy hillwalking!
If you’re a club member or alumna/alumnus and have any stories, photos, sketches, poems, songs or interpretive dance routines inspired by your recent hillwalking adventures, we’d love to share them on this blog! Get in touch at edunihillwalkingalumni@gmail.com.
EUHWC Newsletter December 2023
Trip reports from Ratagan, Galloway and Torridon
Estimated reading time: 15 minutes.
In which we learn about the Christmas dinner, the club Ratagan trip and some escapades from George and myself, including a flashback to that spectacular July weather we were having…
Upcoming trips
The last trip of the semester will be Eskdale YHA in the Lake District from Friday coming (the 8th) to Sunday. Booking will open on Tuesday — it’s a small hostel, so be sure to get online for 8am sharp!
Christmas dinner
We had our annual Christmas dinner last week, and on all accounts it was a great night! Congratulations to all our prize-winners, not least Felicia, well-deserved winner of the coveted Golden Boot for Keenest Newbie, and Lucien, winner of the prestigious title of Hillwalkers’ Hillwalker, in which he joins some extremely esteemed company (more on me and George’s recent shenanigans coming right up).
Better than a tent?
One thing only I ask from the LORD,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
Or as George put it at the time:
You do realise there’s only one door between where you sleep and where you shit? Technically it’s en-suite.
This was our experience of Tunskeen bothy, the first bothy to receive a work party from the Mountain Bothies Association.
We were certainly pleased to see it by the time we arrived! We had set off from the car fifteen minutes before sunset, and darkness was swiftly upon us. Before too long, we’d hopelessly lost the track in a stand of clear-felled forestry. The maze of tree stumps, drainage ditches and general boggy bits was a challenge to navigate, even in the brilliant light of the moon, just past full. Three hours of half-blind stumbling later, we got there.
Mercifully, the bothy was not occupied by the small minority of the local yobulace who are unfortunately known to misuse the bothy (dragging along the track ten bottles of wine, eighty cans of Tennents and a sound system, if the visitor book is to be believed — you have to admire the dedication). Once we’d put a few candles about the place and put on a feeble fire in the stove for moral support, it was really quite welcoming. Only dinner remained to be sorted.
Dinner was the best camping dinner I’ve ever had. Here’s the recipe in case you want to replicate it:
Microwave two-thirds of a haggis.
Carry it in your rucksack round the Nevis Range all weekend.
If you’ve got the time, leave it in your rucksack for another twenty-four hours to mature.
Add two packets of dried macaroni cheese. We recommend the Mugshot 2019 — an excellent vintage.
Add two pints of bog water. If it’s brown, throw it out — you want it to be vivid, algal green.
Bring it to the boil. Give it a stir with a fork of unknown provenance you found lying around in the bothy.
Let it rest for five minutes. For the flavours to really sink in.
Enjoy.
Best camping meal I’ve ever had. Not even joking.
In the morning, we were surprised to discover where our erstwhile companion Tom Cruise had found for a bed.
But we sadly couldn’t enjoy the bothy all day: we had the small issue of some unbagged Donalds staring at us out the window. Determined to put a stop to that, we slogged up to the ridge and investigated the Merrick along with several of its neighbours. This was undoubtedly the part of the walk with the highest traditional hillwalking quality: pleasant, open upland walking, and views reaching at times despite the cloud to the Arran hills.
And that’s when it started to go downhill. In every sense.
Once we’d got into the glen, we were supposed to follow a ‘track’ through the forestry. Turns out the ‘track’ was, at best, a firebreak which some fitwuck in Southampton staring at a satellite picture thought might have a track at the bottom of it (no need to check or anything). And the forestry, of course, had since been clear-felled. Cue several more hours of scraping shins in dense mats of brash, sliding over rotten logs and wading through drainage ditches. The joys.
It might not have been a traditional hillwalkers’ hillwalk. But as both George (2021/22) and myself (2022/23) are officially certified by the EUHWC as Hillwalkers’ Hillwalkers, we made it a hillwalkers’ hillwalkers’ hillwalk.
More seriously, it was a very welcome respite for me. A large catalogue of small-to-medium stressors, combined with a two-month detention from hillwalking, had left me feeling boxed-in, tired and deflated. I came back having tramped for miles over rough terrain, slept on a cold, hard sleeping platform, and put up with George going on about his despicable cloud inversion a month before almost non-stop, and yet I came back fully rested in all the ways that I needed. For driving me out there, providing quality chat and sea shanty CDs, and being a good friend to me, I’m grateful to George.
Technology report:
One-inch Ordnance Survey map 67, ‘Fully Revised 1963.’ OK, we also used George’s Landranger for planning (revised 1986), plus a quick glance at OS Maps Online the day before (revised every time George tried to recall it).
AA atlas for the drive, for the unlikely event that both mine and George’s impeccable innate sense of direction simultaneously failed.
Perfectly balanced CD selection, including Norfolk sea shanties; Julie Fowlis; Wet Leg; the soundtrack to the highly acclaimed animated film, Brave; and Stormzy.
Headtorches.
Fire.
Electric tyre inflator.
A torrential time in Torridon
Now for a bit of a flashback — sorry George for forgetting to include this in the October issue! — George himself reports on a summer trip to Torridon.
On a dark and stormy Tuesday pub night way back in March, Alex and I sat down and reflected on how much we had enjoyed the alumni trip to Torridon a few days prior. Between our musings on how nice it was to see everyone again and how questionable the route I’d tried on the second day was, a brilliant idea was born: why don’t we just do it again but in the summer? Flash forwards a few months and four cars set off from Edinburgh laden down with Alumni, almost alumni and one rogue fresher. Our goal? To have a wonderful weekend in one of the most spectacular parts of the country and hopefully sample some of the excellent scrambling on offer. Unfortunately, the weather forecast had other plans with MWIS declaring that the entire weekend would consist of rain, with roughly 10% chance of cloud-free Munros. Not to be deterred, we rocked up at SYHA Torridon on Friday eve, quickly toned-down arrival noise levels after remembering that there were actually other paying guests at the hostel, and set out our plans for the next day.
The next day arrived and as promised there was lots and lots of lovely rain. Hannah and Shona decided that they would prefer to not spend the entire day drenched and went for a lovely coastal walk, while Rachel Branch and Lottie realised they were both too injured to venture outside, so spent the day making friends with other hostel inhabitants. In terms of actual walks, Alex led the intrepid team of Gretchen, Angela, Roxy and Fiona up the solitary Munro of Maol Chean-dearg. Despite the suggestion of the north face ascent which we had greatly enjoyed barely surviving in March, they instead took the sensible route up the southern face and had a delightful time. The only low of the day seems to be that, due to the volume of water vacating the sky, the normally superb path had turned into a swift and well bordered stream that they spent the majority of the day trudging through. Unfortunately, none of them have sent any photos from this walk so visual memories are left as an exercise to the reader.
The remaining crew which consisted of Tiernan, John, Ruby, Madeline, EUHWC poster boy Johnny, Rogue fresher and incoming president Isla and myself, set off to tackle the relatively unvisited pair of Sgùrr Chòinnich and Sgùrr a' Chaorachain.
Perfect walking weather
We also started in the rain but determined that it would cease soon we persevered and after passing many many frogs and traversing a rather sketchy wire bridge we reached the summits, soggy and viewless but triumphant. To top it off on the way down the rain finally stopped! Granted we had been walking for seven hours at this point but the final hour back to the cars gave everyone a chance to appreciate how fully soaked we were.
A wire bridge with a healthy amount of slack
Once everyone had reconvened at the hostel and filled the drying room to the brim with every imaginable item of clothing, and in some cases entire rucksacks, we descended on the kitchen and set about preparing a large curry in true hillwalking style. I don’t recall what type of curry it was bar it being very tasty and of a sufficiently low spice level that even the weakest of taste buds (mine) wouldn’t be set on fire. Once the dishes been scrubbed to an immaculate shine we set about planning for the next day. While the forecast was better it was still far from what you would describe as ideal scrambling conditions, so the collective decision was made to basically treat Sunday as a faff day. Fortunately, we are all dedicated walkers so a faff day simply meant a less interesting single Munro rather than a jaunt round the house of Bruar. Full of curry and praying that the drying room would do its job we drifted off to bed ready for the next day.
As the second day dawned and brought with it both slightly clear skies and the realisation that we didn’t need to clean the entire hostel before leaving, everyone was in high spirits and set off eager to do the various faff hills that had been designated as targets for the day. Tiernan had decided that he wanted the chance to see the hills he did the previous day so took a car to the “beached whale” (walkhighlands description) that is Moruisg and had a wonderful time taking Gretchen, Angela and Isla up the boggy slopes. Unfortunately for bagger Isla the second peak is a mere Corbett with a height just one metre below Munro. Tiernan helpfully suggested that if she jumped, she would be above the required 3000 feet. While ingenious problem solving this wouldn’t help with the Munro map unless hers happened to be printed in the small window of 1997 to 2009 when the hill experienced a brief promotion.
Top of Morsuig with a slight glimpse of Sgùrr a' Chaorachain in the background
Nearby Shona and Hannah had decided to ascend the faffiest of all hills Fionn Bheinn. However, this attempt was aborted very early into the day due to an impassable bog. When this retreat is combined with their Saturday coastal walk it can safely be stated that the highest altitude either of the pair reached over the entire weekend was the 405-metre Slochd summit on the A9. This is an impressive feat which will hopefully not be repeated on any future trips.
‘Impassable bog’ encountered on Fionn Bheinn
The third hill to be tackled was the mighty Ben Wyvis with a team of Alex, Fiona, Roxy, Lottie and Rachel. Again, I have no photos from this walk and when I asked them for any fun stories to be included in this writeup the only offering was that Rachel had brushed her teeth next to the car. Thrilling stuff indeed.
Finally, we come to my walk. I had decided that for a classic faff day I would do a waterfall walk, but because I refuse to actually do a faff day this waterfall would be the Falls of Glomach and the approach route would happen to cross the Munro of a' Ghlas-bheinn. The team for this consisted of John, Johnny and Madeline while Ruby decided that she would skip the Munro and just do the waterfall aspect. The reasoning for this out of character route choice was a particularly gammy hip which was considered just about acceptable. The mountain walk was very pleasant, and we even had intermittent views of the Skye Bridge when we weren’t distracted by chasing off deer flies that seemed to want nothing more than to burrow into Johnnys hair. Even more impressive was the falls of Glomach which due to the amount of extra water were particularly full. On the way out we encountered a rope swing in the middle of a field so about half an hour was spent sending each other flying around and attempting to dismount without faceplanting onto a tree root or cow pat.
The sturdiest rope swing you ever will see
Overall, despite the damp weather it was an excellent weekend with lots of fun walking and a little taste of a club trip without the need for an early alarm for signup.
Team Torridon
George Peat
Ratagan trip
Ever a highlight of the year, Audrey gives us her account of the club trip to Ratagan.
I needed the Ratagan trip. Workwise, the previous weeks had been rough. My days (too many of which had had beautiful weather) were spent at my desk marking essays, working on the latest chapter of my PhD thesis, writing proposals for conferences, and a myriad of other small tasks that took up way too much time. With this in mind, it is little wonder that I counted down the days, hours, and minutes until I could escape into the Highlands. While I brought my laptop to continue my work on the trip, I fully expected that weekend to be a break from the previous days’ tasks. What I did not expect, however, was to learn as much as I did on this trip.
No one was surprised when I was the VERY first one to arrive at the Pleasance parking lot. When Ellie (with a coffee for me, bless her), Emily, and a hungover George finally showed up (in that order), I was humming with excitement and very anxious to begin the drive. And oh my God the drive. One thing I love about being a part of the EUHWC is the sense of accomplishment I feel when I achieve something (usually bagging a hill) and how often I get to see stunning views. This drive provided me with both. Halfway through, my car pulled up to the Capital Asset, a Wetherspoons in Perth. Anyone who has ever been to the Perth spoons women’s restroom knows that its architecture rivals only that of the Palace of Versailles. With its open layout, lighting, views, and decor, this particular bathroom is a sight to behold. However, despite its unparalleled aesthetic genius, the highlight of the visit to this fine establishment was the fact that my car achieved a major victory. Having arrived at noon on the FRIDAY of the Ratagan excursion, we now hold the record for the earliest visit to the Perth spoons on a EUHWC trip.
We reached the actual destination at about 4pm in the afternoon. Immediately, I was treated with another amazing view. As we pulled into the parking lot, the sky was a peach-pink color. It, along with the surrounding mountains, were perfectly reflected in the glass smooth loch. The hostel itself was incredibly picturesque, looking to me more like an idyllic countryside cottage than a place of cheap lodging.
I signed up to hike Five Sisters with walk organizers Willow and Emily. We could not have asked for a better day. The sky was clear and blue and we could see for miles in any direction. The mountains were snow capped, but not unmanageable. There was a fair bit of minor scrambling — just enough to make the walk interesting. Finally, and arguably most importantly, the group was in high spirits.
Throughout the hike, Silas (one of our fantastic drivers) regaled us with stories from Jacobite history and his everyday life. (Ed: I’m lost, what’s the difference?) However, he showed his true skill as a storyteller halfway through the day. With his audience perched on a rock on a mountainside, he told the legend of how the five sisters came to be. He spoke with such gusto and enthusiasm that we all sat in rapture.
I’m a historian by trade. I study peoples’ lives and how they experienced the world. That being said, every so often, I’m gifted with the opportunity to learn how these people felt in their moments of time. Listening to Silas tell the story of the Five Sisters, I had one of those moments. However many years ago men, women, and children listened to similar stories. These tales were a form of entertainment, moral education, or a way to pass down family or community history. Those in the past may have gathered in a cottage somewhere at the base of one of those mountains, by a fireside along the loch, or perhaps on that very hillside listening to a similar tale. In that moment, I learned how it felt to do that. I sat beside some of my closest friends, eagerly listening to how the mountains surrounding me were formed, just as others had generations before me.
That being said, my happy mindset did not last long. As I was coming off the final Munro, I felt a twinge in my left ankle. I had tweaked it earlier while moving, but thought I had rested it sufficiently enough to walk. Now, the pain was back with a vengeance. I found myself moving slower and slower. With darkness coming, I was mildly concerned about my pace and slowing everyone down. The walk organizers made the right call in splitting up the group, allowing the faster walkers to spend a shorter time in darkness. I am incredibly thankful for the two other walkers who remained back with me as I hobbled down the mountain — I’m pretty sure I would have lost my mind had I forced everyone to wait up with me!
Upon returning to the hostel, my spirits were lifted somewhat by the hamburger dinner Karel and Willow (the trip organizers) had planned and they were lifted even further when I witnessed the creation of a new game that involved a ridge-traversal technique, a dividing wall, and a timer.
However, I was not able to walk the next day. In a fairly sour mood, I joined a group going on a relatively short walk. I sat in the car, determined to get some work done in the three to four hours I would be waiting. I got nothing done. I’d like to blame the lack of wifi or cell service in the area, but in reality, I spent a good chunk of time watching handlers train MOUNTAIN RESCUE SEARCH AND RESCUE DOGS. Oh my gosh, I even got to pet one! I strongly considered volunteering to be a “victim” for them to find, but I figured with the number of dogs and apparent organization of the people that it was covered. Even so, the joy I got watching the dogs (in particular one cocker spaniel who I think was new) find their targets made missing the walk almost worth it.
My excitement over the dogs was equaled only by my compatriots’ enthusiasm over an awe inspiring discovery. At the end of their hike, they took a moment to use the restroom and watch the informational presentation adjacent to the bathrooms. Lo and behold, when they pressed a button to learn more information, they saw the familiar face of JOE CARSTAIRS. Taken completely by surprise that our trusty alumni officer and maintainer of this blog doubled as an environmental A-list celebrity, they learned all about Joe’s volunteer work at the Creag Meagaidh National Nature Reserve and how he, and so many other kind-hearted souls, maintained and cared for the beautiful landscape and wildlife. Of course I had to limp out there to see for myself and, I’m not going to lie, it made me want to ask my friend for his autograph the next time I saw him. (Ed: I told you, it won’t be a problem as soon as you start offering a fair price!)
All in all, I can’t say my Ratagan trip was perfect. Even so, I’m happy for the experience. I genuinely learned so much. On Saturday, I began to understand how those of the past experienced the world. Sunday I saw how mountain rescue serves the community and discovered a really cool fun fact about a dear friend of mine. While the trip did not go exactly as I wished, I cannot say it was a failure.
That’s it!
Thanks for reading, and until next time, happy hillwalking!
If you’re a club member or alumna/alumnus and have any stories, photos, sketches, poems, songs or interpretive dance routines inspired by your recent hillwalking adventures, we’d love to share them on this blog! Get in touch at edunihillwalkingalumni@gmail.com.
EUHWC Newsletter October 2023
A club wedding, Welcome Week, and the reports from Arrochar
Estimated reading time: 10 minutes.
In which we learn about an alumni marriage, hear about a turtle on top of the Cobbler, and get the latest from Welcome Week and our first trip of the year. Emily Topness contributes her poetic reflections on getting drenched at Arrochar.
Upcoming trips
We’ll be having our first weekend trip of the year at Glenmore Youth Hostel, as we did last year! Unfortunately, Dougal the Dastardly Dug will not be in attendance as he was last year. On the bright side, that considerably reduces the odds of anyone having to pick up excrement from the hostel floor, as long as Hamish remembers his nappy supply. We’ll be leaving on Friday the 13th, meaning signup is 8am on the EUSA website this coming Tuesday — don’t forget to be prompt if you want a space!
After that, we’ll be at Glen Nevis on Friday the 27th, meaning signup at 8am the previous Tuesday as per usual. As always, all details of future trips can be found on the upcoming events page.
Bits and bobs
Hillwalkers are being reminded to use online resources to check for stalking information. Stalking is both a crucial contributor to the Highland economy and increasingly necessary to protect vulnerable ecosystems from overgrazing. As a result, NatureScot, in partnership with the National Access Forum and the Association of Deer Management Groups, has reiterated their encouragement for hillwalkers to use the ‘Heading for the Hills’ online tool to find out the latest information about stalking before they set out.
Mountains on Stage is an international film festival celebrating the best of mountain film, and will be visiting Edinburgh at the Assembly Rooms for one night only on Wednesday the 13th of December. More details and booking information, for Edinburgh and many other cities across twenty countries, can be found on the Mountains on Stage website.
The club held its traditional October ceilidh, in the same venue as last year, the Lauriston Hall on Lady Lawson Street. The dependable Fiona Sykes, our very own Social Secretary, was of course leading the band. And we of course didn’t forget our traditional October ceilidh photo!
Over a hundred happy hillwalkers in the Lauriston Hall
An Island Wedding…
Many of our alumni will remember one or both of Mairi MacDonald and Harry Carstairs, your correspondent’s brother. If not, I won’t say you’ve had a lucky escape, but I won’t repeat any of what was said in the after-dinner speeches, either… for indeed, Harry and Mairi have been married!
Hairi and Mairi at the pier at Arinagour on Coll
Not content with such dusty old traditions as getting married somewhere that doesn’t require a four-hour CalMac to get to, they decided to have their wedding away out on the beautiful isle of Coll. At times during the ceilidh, the cold, blue Minch outside the door, though generally a pretty sombre sort, was seen to be dancing along to the jigs and reels — though we grant we’d done pretty good work on the wine by that point. Everyone in attendance, including a very large contingent of Hillwalking Club alumni, had a very good time celebrating Harry and Mairi’s commitment to one another and wishing them every happiness in their marriage.
Harry’s parents — and therefore mine — were both members of the Hillwalking Club when they were courting. Can we therefore call it a second-generation club conjugation, even if our parents technically met in the Snowsports Club? Your correspondent reckons it still counts.
A warm welcome
Welcome Week is our annual chance to seduce another generation of unwitting freshers into our bizarre masochistic cult of pretending splodging through bogs is a good day out, provided the bog in question be over three thousand feet. The harvest was indeed plentiful, though the workers were not too few, as Ellie reports.
The 2023/24 season of Hillwalking started strong as we exploded into Welcome Week armed and ready to introduce potential new members to the club. Chris was on it with the Instagram and flyer printing, Isla was hastily putting together a presentation for our welcome talk, Silas was frantically replying to emails, Audrey was on and off the phone with Pear Tree, and the rest of us… helping out where we could.
Monday 11th September — The one with the Sports Fair
Ah, the sports fair. Our first opportunity to entice new students to join the club, and what a success it was! With one thousand flyers to give out (thanks Chris), we were non-stop chatting to people about the joys of Hillwalking and our upcoming events. The most common question: “what’s the difference between you and mountaineering?” By the end I think we all had the response memorised. A lot of questions were also asked about the ‘sharp pointy things,’ that is, crampons and ice axes. We met people from all over the world who were wanting to explore Scotland as well as those from closer home, who were well acquainted with the Scottish Munros. Hamish even got a lovely mention on the club Instagram story. Thank you to Sasha, Isla, Chris, Ellie, Hannah and Hamish for helping out that day.
Tuesday 12th September — The one with the pretty sunset and football match
Our welcome talk and walk up Salisbury Crags attracted the masses as we led close to two hundred people through the streets of Edinburgh and up to the crags. We started by meeting at the McEwan Hall, where Isla and Ellie couldn’t believe that all the people were there for Hillwalking. With megaphone in hand (kindly provided by Silas), Isla addressed the crowd and, just like the pied piper, led the way to the lecture theatre for our welcome talk. We didn’t think we’d fill the lecture theatre (capacity 120) but boy did we fill it! All the seats were taken as well as people sitting on the stairs at both sides and the floor at the front. Silas, Ellie and Isla energised the crowd with an engaging and entertaining presentation, with support from other committee members.
The evening continued with a walk up Salisbury Crags, just in time for sunset. The views were incredible and a great way to introduce new students to Edinburgh as well as the club. Everyone was chatting, getting to know each other, and most importantly, no one fell off the crag. Due to the masses of people we even got a mention on a random Reddit post that had a photo of us all from Holyrood Park below.
Not expecting this many people to still be with us, we were worried on our approach to Pear Tree where Audrey was eagerly waiting for us. However, upon our arrival the pub was packed because, unknown to us when booking, the England vs Scotland match was on. The bouncers were naturally hesitant on letting us all in, but eventually a few of us were accepted and pushed through the fans to get an overpriced pint. The night then of course ended with the remaining stragglers in The Southsider, munching on rice cakes and crisps bought from Tesco.
Friday 15th September — The one with board games in the pub
Our original plan for Friday was to head to the Meadows for a lovely picnic, but Scottish weather had other ideas and was forecasted to be downpour. So instead, we went where we knew best: Southsider. The afternoon was spent chatting, playing card games and socialising with the prospective members. And we had a good crowd too! We managed to fill the Richmond room and, because the pub wasn’t too busy, people found other tables. Meanwhile, the rest of the committee were busy behind the scenes organising logistics for the weekend plans to the Pentlands and teasing Chris who forgot what date and time we meet for our weekly pub social.
Saturday 16th / Sunday 17th September — The ones with the highland coos
Our day trips to the Pentlands were a great success, with a large turn out both days. The weather didn’t put people off on Sunday, but overall the weather was typical of Scotland — a good introduction for the new members. Both days followed the same route, starting from Craigdon and heading up through Hillend to Caerketton Hill and along to Allermuir Hill. The views over the city and Pentlands were beautiful, even with the low cloud. Everyone who attended was in high spirits, grateful to get out of the city for the day.
A particular highlight for many were the highland cows that blocked our path, as Silas ushered everyone to keep moving. The committee chatted to prospective members, answering questions. The most common question: “what’s the difference between you and mountaineering?” Overall, both days were a great day out, everyone returning to the bus stop safe and sound.
Thank you to everyone who came along during our Welcome Week activities! Special thanks to the committee for making it possible and getting to the end in one piece. We are excited to see what this year has in stall.
Ellie Bestington
Good weather by Arrochar standards
I’ve been at the traditional freshers’ Arrochar day trip for the last three years, and I can confirm that this year was exceptionally good weather, for Arrochar. On Saturday anyway. In any case, a bad day on the hills is better than a good day anywhere else, as Audrey explains.
You never quite know how a day of hillwalking will turn out. Maybe you’ll see the most stunning views that only Tolkien could dream up. Maybe you’ll hike five hours only to glimpse a small cairn encased in a cloud. The weekend of the Arrochar day trips, members of the EUHWC seemed to experience both.
The weekend started bright and early Saturday morning. Dozens of new hillwalkers (called “NH” from here on out) rolled up to Pleasance Sports Center to catch a coach bus at 6.30am. Did the experienced hillwalkers (“EH”) ease them into the chaos of walk signup? Absolutely not. The walk organizers merely announced lots of numbers, questionably pronounced Gaelic names, and various levels of difficulty. From there, the NH’s then got to experience the pure rush that is pushing your way through a crowd to get a spot on your walk of choice.
After all that excitement, both EH’s and NH’s were ready for an amazing day of hillwalking.
And amazing it was. While I can’t speak for all the walks, mine and Emily Topness’ was memorable because of one particular person we met. Our route was pretty simple: summit Beinn Narnain, summit the Cobbler (Ben Arthur), head back to the car park. Beinn Narnain was achieved without incident and our NH’s got to experience their very first summit lunch and absolutely stunning views of the surrounding mountains. The Cobbler did not prove to be too difficult either, save for the last bit that required way more courage than some of us had expected.
Audrey’s group heading up the Cobbler
That was when we saw him. Approaching the summit (and our group) was a young man, wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and a giant stuffed turtle on his back.
A turtle at the top of the Cobbler
I could only imagine the bet he lost to have to carry that thing all the way up to the top of a Corbett.
Honestly, after that, the rest of the day was uneventful, as some pleasant days can be. No-one got lost, everyone got on the bus in time, and we all were in our flats at reasonable hours.
I’m afraid I can’t say the same for Sunday.
Sunday weather coming off Ben Vorlich
The weather wasn’t nearly as lovely as the day before. High winds and visibility-reducing rain forced us to do low-level walks. Upon reaching the summit of Ben Vorlich, I was reminded of the strength of Scottish winds when I was nearly blown off of the top of the mountain. Still, it wasn’t a bad day. In fact, Calum, a truly experienced hillwalker, remarked to me that he thought Sunday was better than Saturday, even with the weather. My group made good time up and down the mountain and were even able to purchase hot chocolate from the small visitor center where we were to meet the coach. Everyone was reasonably comfortable and seemed to be in good spirits.
We knew we would have to wait for the coach–we had made it to the car park significantly earlier than planned. However, when the 4pm pickup time came and went, my group still found itself standing under the awning of a now-closed visitor center next to Loch Lomond. The rain had increased so much that waves crashed over the floating docks on the loch and the moored boats pulled against their tethers. Some members of the group had taken refuge inside the bathrooms, but a good portion of us remained outside watching for the coach.
Alistair wondering where the bus is
Finally, after watching bus after bus go by, I decided to make a phone call. When Silas, one of the organizers of the trip, answered the phone, I could hear the cheery sounds of a pub in the background. Honestly, it was hard not to be a little jealous when I compared that noise to that of the pounding rain.
“Would you be able to check your parking lot for the bus?” I asked, thinking it had gone there first, “Honestly, it’s kind of miserable here.”
“Of course, we’ll go look,” the ever-happy Silas replied. And then, after a pause, he added sympathetically, “If it’s any consolation, it’s not great here either.”
Honestly, all I could do was laugh.
Eventually, the bus did make it. We loaded up and made our way back to Edinburgh, damp, but no worse for wear. The following Tuesday, I was happy to see that the rainy day hadn’t deterred too many of the NH’s, as a good number of them joined us at Southsider. If anything, I think that that weekend taught a lot of us of the joys of hillwalking in Scotland. Truly, you never know what you’re going to encounter. You can have sunshine, wind, clouds, snow, rain, hail, et cetera. You can meet exciting people or get way too acquainted with the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. No matter what you experience, however, many of us in the EUHWC have learned to live by the adage “a bad day in the hills beats a good day anywhere else.”
Audrey Sisel
Arrochar
Huddled sunrise in undertones
Fingers trace contour lines
We take a bearing towards
Years come full circle
Memories crowd together under
Narnain Boulders’ refuge
Heather clouding our footsteps
As first Munros are met
Beginnings folded into forest
Voices sing through summit mist
We rest shoulder to shoulder
Reaching out to
Grab each glimmer
From a raindrop studded sky
Emily Topness
That’s it!
Thanks for reading, and until next time, happy hillwalking!
If you’re a club member or alumna/alumnus and have any stories, photos, sketches, poems, songs or interpretive dance routines inspired by your recent hillwalking adventures, we’d love to share them on this blog! Get in touch at edunihillwalkingalumni@gmail.com.
EUHWC Newsletter August 2023
Trip dates for 2023/24, plus summer adventure stories from our members
Estimated reading time: 10 minutes.
For many club hillwalkers, summer is the season of the blank calendar, the comforting rhythm of club trips swept out from under their feet. But the lack of structure has not stopped our members from getting out in the hills. On the contrary! With the freedom to go where they want, when they want, for as long as they want, and with all the light of long summer days, summer is also a season of opportunity.
Some of those members have kindly agreed to share some of their stories from their summer adventures. But first, the essential updates!
Trip dates
We have now booked all of our first-semester trips and almost all our second-semester trips! Get them in the calendar!
Semester One
Arrochar (day trip), 23rd and 24th September 2023
Cairngorm Lodge, 13th - 15th October 2023
Glen Nevis SYHA, 27th - 29th October 2023
Ratagan SYHA, 10th - 12th November 2023
Ballachulish Village Hall, 24th - 26th November 2023
Eskdale YHA, 8th - 10th December 2023
Semester Two
Ullapool SYHA, 26th - 28th January 2024
Kinlochleven, 9th - 11th February 2024
Crianlarich, 23rd - 25th February 2024
Glencoe SYHA (Alumni Trip), 8th - 10th March 2024
Torridon SYHA , 5th - 7th April
Oxford Mountaineering Club Hut (Snowdonia), 19th - 22nd April (three nights)
Broadford SYHA, 24th - 27th May (three nights)
Arran adventures
Now, as we all know, if there are no Munros in a bit of country, it is technically classified as completely flat. However, that doesn’t stop it from providing plenty of entertainment to a proper gang of hillwalkers, such as Ewen Watson, Calum Duffus-Hodson, Audrey Kateri and Emily Topness! This is Emily’s telling of their trip round the Arran Coastal Way.
On a cloudy May’s early morning, I heaved my 65L rucksack through sleepy Edinburgh streets to Waverley station. Visible from metres away in her signature bright orange Crocs, I found Audrey bursting with excitement at Platform 9. Shortly after, Calum appeared looking ready for adventure, and our trio boarded the train headed towards Glasgow. Leaving Queen Street station, we marched through Glasgow to Glasgow Central. We boarded our train as frantic messages of ‘Ewen? Ewen??’ were fired across the group chat. Just as the train started to move, Ewen, our fearless leader, strode down the train car with a baguette in hand. Our group complete at last, we arrived at Ardrossan Harbour to catch the ferry to Arran. Our noble quest had begun.
The gang all ready to go at the start of the Arran Coastal Way
The Arran Coastal Way is a 65-mile circular route around the island, covering trails, forest tracks, beaches, road, rock scrambles, and, if you do it right, the occasional luxury hotel. We began our journey heading north from Brodick and towards Goat Fell. We rambled up the 874 metre hill, ditched our packs halfway, and made a rainy summit. After descending, we continued our hike in search of a place to camp as rain clouds loomed. The next morning we set out early, accompanied by red sandstone outcrops and coastal views. At a pit stop in Lochranza, we had the best sandwiches we’d ever had in our lives as the miles began to catch up with us. On Day 3, we detoured to Machrie Moor. While the standing stones did not allow Audrey and I to travel in time, we discovered that the imposing stones are approximately two Calums tall.
A Standing Stone on Machrie Moor with a Calum for scale
On the morning of our fourth day, everyone was quiet. To our surprise, Audrey and I had discovered that it is indeed possible for the two of us to run out of things to talk about. With around 25 miles remaining, we plodded our aching feet across soft sand under a bleak sky. Scrambling across large rocks hugging the coastline, we paused to sign up for the next hillwalking trip (success!). Feeling like the truest hillwalkers for signing up for a walk during a walk, we persevered on.
Red sandstone outcrops along the Arran coast
At Glenashdale Falls (Eas a’ Chrannaig) we realised we needed to camp one more night. We hobbled into Lamlash in search of a hot meal and a pint. Unwelcome at the first pub we tried (who would turn away such weary, albeit dirty, travellers?), we were thankful the Glenisle Hotel received us with warm Scottish hospitality and local Arran brews. Stepping out of the hotel restaurant to the serenade of bagpipes being played on a boat across the water, we camped comfortably in a field with only five miles ahead of us.
The Arran Coastal Way was a worthy challenge across 74 miles and four and a half days that strengthened our friendship and love of hillwalking. The hardcore hillwalkers we are, we had less than 48 hours in Edinburgh before heading to Skye for the final club trip of the academic year. I will conclude this piece with our motivational phrase on Arran: ‘Onwards and flatwards!’
Our sweet camp spot at Lamlash
by Emily Topness
A dream holiday?
Meanwhile, our eminent President is yet to have been seen sitting still since the end of the previous academic year. Among her many adventures, she has walked solo over the Alps from Munich to Venice. I’ll hand it over to her!
For my holiday this year, I walked across the eastern Alps from Munich to Venice on Der Traumpfad or The Dreamway. It took me 32 days to complete the journey, over 600 km in distance and over 20,000 metres of ascent.
Starting in the industrial city of Munich I walked south for two and a half days beside the river Isar before entering the German Pre-Alps. Two days later I crossed into Austria where I first traversed the Karwendel range, dropped down into the Inn valley and then re-ascended the mountains south of Innsbruck called the Tux Alps. The final Austrian section was across the Zillertal Alps before I walked into Italy on the thirteenth day of my journey. From here I walked through valleys and forests towards the northern Dolomites, reaching them three days later.
Nine days of incredible walking followed, over the northern Dolomites, around the Marmolada massif and across the Civetta group before dropping down to Belluno. During the Dolomites section, I overlapped with both the Alta Via 1 and 2 for two and and a half days each, so these were the busiest (and most amazing) sections of my walk. After Belluno, I had a final ascent up to Col Visentin before dropping down onto the Venetian plain and meeting the river Piave that I followed for 4 days into my bustling final destination, Venice.
I stayed mostly in mountain huts that provide delicious home-cooked meals, and are where I met lots of other walkers, who were almost exclusively German. I used the Cicerone guidebook by John Hayes as well as GPX to navigate and found route finding largely easy because paths were so well signposted (and I am not known to be a strong navigator). The walking was definitely tough in some sections, and I personally struggled the most on hot cloudless days (if you don’t know me, I am very much pale and very much ginger and very much covering myself in suncream on such days), but most reasonably fit walkers would be able to do this walk and I couldn’t recommend it enough! The weather was definitely not always sunny, with just as many foggy and wet days as well as lots of immense thunderstorms, often during the evening, so early starts were necessary. The mountain huts were sociable and cosy and I sometimes stayed in dorm rooms with 20+ people so this is not the walk for you if you enjoy solitude.
The highlights of my walk were crossing the Sella group in the northern Dolomites that included some exciting Via Ferrata sections, swimming in a stunning alpine lake called Lago Coldai, entering the Karwendel range in the north of Austria and of course all the lovely fellow walkers I met along the way.
by Isla Burslem
The Mamore 10: the long way round
And last of all, my own contribution! In June, I came up with the idea of walking from sunrise to sunset on the solstice. I’d done a similar thing on the winter solstice one year, but that was less than half the length… luckily for me, Rowan Atkinson and Ahmed Ali both, having more guts than sense, agreed to keep me company! This is my account.
None of us really slept the night before. At Kinlochleven’s lofty latitude, even at midnight, the midsummer night was still gently glowing through the curtains. At twenty-five past four, with no alarm, we rose, quietly slipped on our walking gear and set off.
The morning seemed easy. The slog up the rough Loch Eilde Mòr path was soon over, and then we were marching up to the corrie with our pace almost unbroken. This was the clearest weather of the day, and in our only real break, we gazed at the back of Aonach Eagach illuminated in gold. Twice we saw ptarmigan hens with chicks, and we saw other, smaller creatures, making the best of their own little summers.
Joe admiring the views to the back of the Aonach Eagach in the golden early morning
But even in the stillest June days, the Mamores don’t consent to remain easy for long. Our first summit, Sgùrr Eilde Mòr, required us to slide uphill on very steep gravelly slopes, often without any secure holds at all. The second, Binnein Beag, was much easier work, though the approach path was unusually picturesque.
Rowan, Ahmed and Joe on their first summit, Sgùrr Eilde Mòr
Meanwhile, Sgùrr Eilde Mòr gave us fine views of its brother, Binnein Mòr, the highest summit in the Mamores. We would be tackling it from an uncommon aspect, and it took some careful studying and comparison against the map to be sure which way was our route. Once at the top, we drank in the last drops of clear weather, and braced ourselves as wet fog clouds swept in to drown the Mamore ridge.
Joe pondering the options up Binnein Mòr from Binnein Beag
In some ways, it was an odd choice of walk for me. Although the route we’ve chosen includes ten Munros, I am not a bagger, and that is not a motivating factor. Indeed, my first idea for a route for this day had no Munros in it at all. Nor am I a fitness geek. I have no desire to get athlete-fit, push my limits or prove my mettle.
One of my favourite things about this route, and one of the main reasons I chose it, is the fact that the route is circular. I have always been attracted to circular routes. They have a peculiarly satisfying symmetry. So too does a walk from dawn to dusk. By never retracing your steps, you only ever move forward, and yet, you return to the same place where you started. It is a beautiful paradox. Beginning and end. Alpha and omega. Dawn to dusk. Dark to dark.
The view from the summit of Na Gruagaichean
Having pushed on through the raincloud over Na Gruagaichean, heads down, we’ve managed to get a little off-track. It probably costs us about an hour. Not a problem – we were ahead of time to begin with, and we have two hours of extra time baked into the schedule.
Was this part of the plan?
Summit after summit, we march ever on. Stob Coire a’ Chàirn. An Garbhanach and An Gearanach. The ridges seem to be slowing us down. Am Bodach. Sgùrr an Iubhair, the Devil’s Ridge and Sgùrr a’ Mhaim. Finally, as we descend to the Lochan Coire nam Mìseach to refill our empty bottles, I get the map out and do some sums. As I slowly figure things out, I gradually realise the news isn’t good.
‘We’ve been falling behind for quite a while now,’ I explain. ‘If we keep losing time at the current rate, it will be a quarter to one in the morning before we get back. I think we should do one more summit, and then we should decide whether to take the escape route down.’
Neither companion is particularly pleased to hear this. Pulling out at Stob Bàn will leave just one of the ten Munros unsummitted. Still, we’ve been walking for about thirteen hours now: longer than any of us has ever walked before continuously. There would be not a drop of shame in pulling out early.
Despite that, that news seems to give us the kick up the backside we needed. A second wind whips us up Stob Bàn twelve minutes ahead of Naismith. We actually cheer, and with no more thought given to the escape route, we march along the gentle shoulder of Mullach nan Coirean to our final summit. Taking Alex’s advice from his trip the previous week, we carefully avoid the crags coming down, hoist ourselves over a deer fence and glide home along the West Highland Way.
The bonniest road leads hame…
On the final stretch, we pass right under the snouts of several of the southernmost Mamores, as if taking the reel of our day and rewinding it at high speed. Stob Bàn. Am Bodach. Na Gruagaichean. Sgùrr an Iubhair. Atop one, I see a summit cairn, buffetted by clouds, disappearing into the distance high above. Suddenly, the hills double in size before my eyes. No more are these hills the playground I set out in; these great darkening purple giants loom large as the sun sets behind us.
We march straight into our campsite and more or less straight into the showers. As soon as I start to strip off, my body finally gives in. I move delicately, as if were I to move too quickly something might snap. Despite the light, sleep is long and total.
by Joe Carstairs
That’s it!
Thanks for reading, and until next time, happy hillwalking!
If you’re a club member or alumna/alumnus and have any stories, photos, sketches, poems, songs or interpretive dance routines inspired by your recent hillwalking adventures, we’d love to share them on this blog! Get in touch at edunihillwalkingalumni@gmail.com.