Autumnal Magic in the Highlands

Using the sleeper service you can pack a lot into a weekend of walking in the Highlands — even more if you use a Colin Ibbotson itinerary! And once in a while the traveller can strike real gold with the weather …I travelled north by sleeper and arrived at Aviemore reasonably refreshed despite having to rely on one of those airline-style seats rather than a proper birth. This was a trip to link up with fellow TGO Challengers — and lightweight hiking enthusiasts — Colin Ibbotson and Phil Turner. Our plan was to amble from Blair Atholl to Aviemore, with Phil meeting us at the pre-planned camp stop on Friday evening. I had no idea what I would do at Blair Atholl at 6.30 in the morning and so decided to travel on to Aviemore where I could join Colin on his train South.

I stepped out into Aviemore on a beautifully fresh but very cold morning. The skies were absolutely clear. The view to the Cairngorms and the Lairig Ghru pass was sparklingly sharp. I had a sharp feeling of deja-vu. The last time I had been here at this time was eighteen months ago. Then I found myself on a deserted high street with no people and no traffic. Just when I was wondering what to do a taxi appeared and whisked me off to Glenmore. I stood in the same, deserted street and gathered my thoughts. A taxi appeared. The driver looked at me and I looked at him. There was some kind of shared sense of recognition, but this year I wasn’t in need of his services.

Strolling down the main street I realised that I had arrived before most of the shopkeepers but before long I was settled in the Mountain Café with newspapers, hot coffee and an all-day breakfast. The Mountain Café is one of those great mountain institutions. It sits on top of a really good gear shop and its terrace and wide windows gaze out onto the most magnificent of panoramas. The breakfast was exceptionally good if rather on the steep side. Rather novelly the breakfast was composed like one of those Masterchef dishes, the found stacked up to the ceiling and topped off with a single strand of chive.

I joined Colin on his train and by 11.00 am we were stepping out into a beautiful Blair Atholl morning. The sun was now beaming down though the air remained crisp and sharp. All around us was a wonderful display of autumn foilage, the trees fiery hot with the reds, golds and yellows; without doubt a sight to raise the spirits.

We set off along the River Tilt but soon left the glen to begin the climb to Carn Liath, at 975 metres the first munro of our trip. Carn Liath comes into sight quickly as you pound two kilometres or so of tarmac, the side of the mountain literally scarred with a track that looks from a distance something like a mountain motorway. As we climbed the mountain we continually stopped to remind ourselves that this was the middle of October. The air was now warm, thought not inconveniently so. The views were stunning although the mountain panorama shimmered in a heat haze that was more reminiscent of the Mediterranean than the Highlands. Although A Friday this easily accessed Munro was as busy as could be expected and we found ourselves chatting on and off to single walkers, couples as well as to a number of large rambling groups.

From the summit our walk meandered around a stunning ridge, with those magnificent views never ceasing to entertain. We were aiming for the second Munro on this classic walk, the hill of Braigh Coire Chruinn Bhalgain (or something like that) which stands at 1070 metres. The summit was our high spot for the day. Munro baggers will have started walking earlier than we did and would have pushed on further to their next target but evening was now creeping in and we had a rendezvous with Phil to consider.

As soon as we left the Muno path we lost tracks. We set off to the North East taking a grassy spur that it seemed would take us down to Glen Tilt. This was the most exciting part of the day’s walking, with me simply following in Colin’s steps as he navigated by way of his OS print outs and some kind of advanced gizmo. This was one of those descents where you aim ahead not knowing whether the next brow will reveal another grassy slope or a dramatic cliff edge. Early on we struck lucky with each brow revealing an obvious line down off the hill. Our luck didn’t hold though. We found ourselves stuck on a high ledge, a hill stream crashing down below us taking a path that looked too steep to follow.

This is a situation that I have found myself in regularly over the years, but usually I am navigating and in charge of my own destiny so to speak. This descent was a little weird in a way as Colin was doing all of the hard work and I had nothing else to do but put my trust in his judgement. At times like this you realise what it is like for others to follow you in similar circumstances.

We slowly and carefully picked our way down some very shaky looking ground until we eventually made to the safety of a grassy and gentle hillock. Colin raced to the top and gave me the thumbs up. The hillock stood proud and high above a majestic Glen Tilt. In front of us was a wonderful vista of mountains and forests. Glen Tilt ran off to the North East enticing us on for tomorrow’s walk. To the west the sun was beginning to descend behind the hills. The skies were still clear but tinged now with pink and vermillion. There was a calm to both sky and water.

As I took photographs Colin spied a lone walker on the track floor far below. That must be Phil — nobody else would be out here this late. We shouted and shouted and eventually Phil was able to make us out from the harsh cries of the stags which rang out all around the mountains. Eventually we joined Phil and the floor of the glen and set off to make camp on a lovely pitch, near a good bridge at 957 764.

By the time we had pitched our tarps it was dark and we cooked our meals by torch light. The temperature was falling fast and the air was completely still but the camp banter and laughter was as good as it gets. I settled down for a good evenings sleep but I hadn’t reckoned with the deer. It was rutting season and in 360 degree surround sound I spent what seemed like the whole evening listening to the shouts, grunts and groans of stags at the top of their game. When out in the wild I often wish I knew more about flora and fauna but this evening I wanted an expert in stag calls. Many of the various calls were familiar, a loud chant being replied to buy a similar refrain. But there was a lot of variety in there with one stag — just one amongst many — sounding like the laugh of Scooby Do!

With me two nights of broken sleep do not make for good walking. Still, we awoke to a fine and cold morning. I had pitched by Duomid with the sides pitched highly for maximum ventilation but there was still a thick layer of ice on the inside of the cuben fibre. It was very cold. Colin gave us a running commentary on the temperature relying on yet another piece of techno wizardry — small and lightweight of course. As we cooked up our porridge the temperature remained stubbornly below freezing.

Tilt is a lovely glen. As we moved north a creeping sun once again picked out the colour of the autumn landscape. Soon we were strolling in glorious sun and stopping to dry out tarps which emerged from their stuff sacks as if from the inside of a deep freeze.

As our trail joined the River Dee we had a decision to make about the next day’s walk. We could go left and gently up through Glen Feshie (an easy route). We could go straight on, up and over the Cairngorm plateau (and hard route) or right to the Derry Lodge and on to the Shelter Stone and Cairn Gorm (the medium route). Phil plumped for the middle route and we turned right to head towards the Linn of Dee by way of White Bridge. I’ve walked this way a few times now and have very few fond memories of it. But then on past occasions the weather has been atrocious and on this day it remained glorious. At the Linn of Dee we turned north to walk through a gorgeous tract of woodland, those fiery colours dancing and delighting us all over again.

Our campsite for the evening was at Derry Lodge, a gorgeously flat piece of greenery the sits next to the Derry Burn. Pitched my tarp in exactly the same place as I always pitch here. It was still early and the sun still shone giving Phil and I lots of time to play with the pitching and the guying of our Duomids. Although we had no immediate company a constant line of mountain bikers cruised past our sight, returning from a day on the Cairngorm Munros.

All three of us settled down for an early night’s sleep — I certainly needed one and apparently went off like a light. The night started as before with clear skies, wonderful stars and a very cold edge to the air. Half way through the night the wind picked up and the air warmed quite dramatically. Nevertheless, we emerged into daylight to be greeted — by Colin — with the news that earlier in the night the temperature had dropped to a trip low, somewhere around -5 I think.

We broke camp and began to walk North up Glen Derry under more gloomy skies. After a few kilometres we branched off to take the Ben Macdui path up towards Loch Etchechan. Just below the Loch we took a break at the small Hutchinson Memorial Hut, a bothy maintained by the Mountain Bothy Association. The Hutchinson Hut is a small but study construction which according to the Bothy book is pretty popular. We combed the book — and another than accompanied it — for entries in May, a search for fellow TGO Travellers. Here was Dave Godfrey who had taken refuge there en route to Derry Lodge, berating those who refused to bury their excrement well away from the hut!

Both bothy books seemed to in use and we made our mark in both. In one we found a page with a diagram showing how three people could sleep on the bothy’s short and narrow bench. Then we found another which showed how the bench could accommodate four. I won’t go into details of how the foursome is achieved but Challengers beware. You go for this arrangement at your peril and the Challenge Morality Police may get you! I accompanied my entry with our own diagram and sketch. A prize goes to the first reader who is able to email and describe the picture.

As we sat in the bothy the wind swelled up and we continued our climb upwards in high winds. Loch Etchechan is quite a dramatic place. I know lots of folk who have planned to camp there although it always looks too wild for me. Colin, though, tells me that he has had some fine nights camping aside the lock in fine weather.

We headed off the Macdui path and headed along the loch before descending to find the famous shelter stone. By now the wind had been joined by some vigourous Cairngorm rain. None of us had seen the shelter stone before and after much poking around Colin found it. There are actually lots of shelter stones here, huge slabs of rock with spaces underneath which have been draft proofed by the stacking of many small stones into cavities that face the prevailing wind.

At Loch Avon we took the west bank to connect with a sharp climb up to Cairn Gorm. In normal weather this would probably have been quite a nice scramble. It is steep path that runs alongside a stream that crashed down from on high. In the rain I found myself having to watch my step carefully. Big boulder stones were often slippy and hand holds required as much care. The track underneath was wet and crumbly.

We emerged from the scramble into a mass of low cloud. It was now I realised just how knackered I was. It wasn’t just following Colin that had taken it out on me. The poor sleep for three nights had not helped and I realised that I hadn’t been eating properly during the day, relying solely on power bar-type food which is never a good thing. Colin and Phil coaxed me on up to Cairn Gorm and then down to the the funicular station.

It has been a short trip but one of great variety and contrast. We’d had high, clear, days on Munros, wonderful vistas as we strolled out along high ridges, superb wildcamp sites, gorgeous glen walking and lots of shared laughter.

Walking alone offers the best connection the wild land that you are walking through but there are trips that are designed to make the best of companionship. But regardless of whether you are looking for solitude or company this combination of routes is a winner.

The Scottish Highlands — on days like these — is as good as it gets.