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Munro Baggers Blog



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HOW many Munros have you climbed? Are you a seasoned walker about to bag all 284 of Scotland's highest peaks? Or, are you at the start of that long upward journey?
If you have climbed just one Munro - or all of them - this Baggers Blog enables you to share your experiences, successes and defeats, with other like-minded folk.

Why not tell us which Munro you are about to climb? Or the past challenges you have faced ... be it the weather or a difficult route to the summit? Or, even where the best place is for a pint and lunch after the climb. Your advice could be invaluable for other walkers about to face the same challenge.

And, if you know someone who is about to bag all 284 Munros, give them a name-check ... it's a great achievement.

Pick up The Scotsman's free book 'A to Z of Munros', inside every copy of The Scotsman on 17 May and 24 May - an essential index of Munros, ideal for every keen walker.

Share your experiences below ....



The full article contains 179 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
Page 1 of 1

  • Last Updated: 09 May 2008 11:53 AM
  • Source: The Scotsman
  • Location: Edinburgh
 
1

caleypine,

Banchory 26/05/2008 11:20:04
Having now seen both parts of Scotland's Munros, I am very surprised that, despite the type of information on pages 44 and 45 of Part 1, there is no mention of the Hillphones Scheme http://www.snh.org.uk/hillphones/ or of the Scottish Outdoor Access Code http://www.outdooraccess-scotland.com/ which replaced the Country Code several years ago.

I would have expected much better research from the Scotsman, especially as the Hillphones shceme is designed to deal with the potential "conflict" between hillwalkers and those who work in the countryside which you identify on page 45 - and it has been in operation since 1996.
2

Beinn Better,

Beinn Bhuidhe 26/05/2008 17:10:53
On a gorgeous day in May i got up early and headed west past Arrochar to the small hidden car park (1st right accros the bridge)near Clachan at the top of Loch Fyne, from there i walked the 4-5 miles along the quarry and farm tracks past a single farm house then along through a small cluster of other cottages before reaching a third abandonned cottage past which there is a gate. after the gate you head immediately left through a 2nd gate up the gully following the path to the summit. it is a tough path and requires scrambling at many points. the view from the top is worth it however as i could see all teh way to Ben Nevis and had great views of the Arrochar Alps the hills around Crianlarich and down Loch Fyne itself. A very tough day so take plenty to drink and eat but well worth the effort
3

alanbmorris,

Netherlee 03/06/2008 16:07:15
It was a cloudy, cold but dry day as me and my hill-walking companion, Stephen set off on another expedition. We were heading for the twin peaks of ‘Ben Lui’, an 1130m mountain that stands proudly in the Western Highlands of Scotland. It was the spring of April but Ben Lui looked menacing and mysterious with her summit hidden in thick grey angry clouds. As we trudged along the path to her base, we nervously gazed at the freezing snow and rocks on her eastern flank – our route of ascent.

As we dumped our 60litre packs in favour of smaller lighter rucksacks, our eyes and minds were still fixed upwards into the white snow squalls, which somehow seemed curiously dark. None the less, we set off excitedly and deliberately up the mud and into the great cauldron that is the ‘Coire Gaothaich’. Confident and naïvely, we climbed up a snowy gully that lead to a foggy, col and spotted some footprints. Faint though they were, we decided to follow them. They led us steeply up a maze of rocks and snow, deeper into the dense, frozen clouds round the edge of a cliff.

We emerged from the rock maze and stared back down into the ‘Coire Gaothaich’, the great cauldron we had admired from the bottom, was now filled with a grey churning mist. However, this did not deter our enthusiasm and we forced our way up the harsh incline sharing jokes. “Wait!” - I shouted, as I was suddenly and horribly aware of our surroundings. We were crawling like ungainly spiders up a smooth, white icy slope- too steep to be able to stand upright. I glanced left – I saw only slope merge with the white clouds. My eyes flicked right, and a mirror image of the left was all I saw. I dared to look down; hoping that I would be able to see the comfort of the flat col that we had clambered up from, all I saw was white. I couldn’t tell where the slope ended and the sky begun.

Back up the slope ahead, I glimpsed at Stephen scuttling to the safety of a sharp rock poking up out of the otherwise endless, hard, whi
4

alanbmorris,

Netherlee 03/06/2008 16:08:25
Back up the slope ahead, I glimpsed at Stephen scuttling to the safety of a sharp rock poking up out of the otherwise endless, hard, white face we were stuck on. I raised my hand to signal to him through the rapidly deteriorating weather, but as my glove came off the slope I lost valuable grip and my left boot slipped from its hold. I swiftly planted my glove back onto the hopelessly flat, solid snow and regained my footing. Suddenly, all I could hear was my sharp and irregular gasps of icy air and my rapid heartbeat hammering away inside me. I shut my eyes in the realisation that this was real fear. The kind where all you can contemplate is the second your in, and how the next one is going to be even worse.

I attempted to plot my way up the slope to reach the false safety of that rock Stephen was on. I kicked hard into the ice, to make a notch big enough to fit the toe of my boot onto and prayed to a god I didn’t believe in, to make it hold. Gusts of unrelenting wind whipped up, what felt like tiny shards of glass and blasted them onto my red cheeks and stinging eyes. As I stabbed my way up the slope, my calves ached, but I didn’t care. I felt physically sick to my empty stomach, but I didn’t care. My fingers were so cold they may as well not have existed, but somehow I didn’t care. But that rock was only a few treacherous metres away, and I did care. When I finally made it, Stephen was staring at the map. I asked him where we were, he pointed to a cluster of grey bits near some dots. I think we both knew he just guessed but in the moment we both agreed.

“Let’s get off this mountain.” said Stephen, his voice poisoned with a horrible false confidence as he passed me a banana. I tried to sip some freezing water as a cramp vigorously took grip of my inner thigh. It passed and we set off back down the hard, steep slope we had just come up. We climbed down as if we were negotiating a ladder, facing the slope. My head would often fall fatigued against the slope b
5

alanbmorris,

Netherlee 03/06/2008 16:08:55
. It passed and we set off back down the hard, steep slope we had just come up. We climbed down as if we were negotiating a ladder, facing the slope. My head would often fall fatigued against the slope but the coldness of the ice soon penetrated my good old Motherwell F.C woolly hat soon stunned me aware again.

We arrived at drop, how large, I dared not detect. I felt sick. Stephen began carefully scuttling sideways to a less steep area. I began to follow him. With one arm resting on the icy, seemingly inclined wall, we were negotiating, and the other outstretched helpless into the sleet filled air, I gently kicked sideways into the slope to form a tiny notch to balance on. But it was hopeless. ‘This is what ice axes are for.’ I thought to myself, my eyes clenched shut after another gust of abrasive ice grated my raw cheeks. My Mag-lite torch was my best hope and I awkwardly reached round to my rucksack and pulled it out. I removed the end cap and the batteries so that I could use the open end to grip into the ice. I set off again, wielding my make-shift axe. It was futile. Though pathetically, it was still more effective than my sodden gloves. I cut another step into the slope, placing one leg hazardously over the other, leaning into the slope as much as I could. I glanced up, noticing it was another 3 or so metres to the flat rocky area, where Stephen was waiting. No sooner had my tired brain processed this, did the right sole of my right boot lose its purchase on its notch leaving my face down on the ice. Helpless, I instantly took my Mag-lite axe and thrust it hard into the slope to stop myself from sliding. I began slowly sliding down the slope. Painfully slowly. The more I struggled the less ‘limpet-like’ I became and my body began accelerating downwards. My ‘axe’ grinded against the surface of the ice wall, shards of ice flew up, almost like sparks. After about 3 seconds I was sliding quickly down the slope. I tired to dig my elbows into what snow must ha

 

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