I had managed to finish work a week early before the 'mandatory' Christmas break at school so I was keen to make the most of the free time. Emily was still at school so I didn't want to leave her without the car so the train seemed like the sensible option. With the constraint of the train and the short winter day, it was inevitable that this trip was going to turn into a bit of an expedition - it was going to be a bit full on. A camp or two was inevitable, and so was a heavy pack; fast and light just wasn't going to work.
Emily and her family had been experiencing the joys of the Norovirus over the past week but, thankfully, I had managed to avoid it and was feeling good about the prospects of a winter adventure. I cut down on the weight as much as I dared, but the crampons, axe, poles, winter sleeping bag, stove, warm jacket and extra hat/gloves etc. all added up. I decided to go minimalist and take my Terra Nova hooped bivi instead of a tent; in the hope that it wouldn't be too wet! The forecast was quite favourable; very light wind, dry and cold. As it looked like it was going to be chilly, I didn't want to only take my light sleeping bag and run the risk of being cold.
With my large rucksack, I carted all my gear down to Edinburgh Haymarket Station and caught the train to Glasgow just after 5pm. Then I had a few minutes wait before settling on to the train to Fort William. As I sat on the train studying the map, it suddenly dawned on me that I had forgotten my watch - cursing at myself, I was thankful that I still had my iPhone to tell the time; not ideal. The train split in two at Crianlarich and I jumped off at the next stop: Upper Tyndrum. Needless to say, it was a lonely place at that time on a Sunday evening with no other soul around. The train hissed away into the darkness and I headed down the track to the main road with only the light of my head torch for company.
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| A deserted Upper Tyndrum Station |
It was a fresh, chilly night and there was quite a bit of snow lying on the ground but the road down from the station was clear. There were plenty of lights on in the Crainlarich Hotel, but there wasn't much life about the place. I headed on down the dark street, past the By the Way Hostel, and up to Lower Tyndrum station. If I'd stayed on the other half of the train from Glasgow, I obviously could've alighted here, but I hadn't visited Upper Tyndrum station before and I'm not one to turn down an opportunity to see somewhere new! Leaving civilisation behind, I crossed the tracks and began the plod along the Landrover track through the forest.
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| Heading towards the Tyndrum Hotel |
I made slower progress than I would've liked, as the track was extremely icy and I had to walk on the softer snow at its edges to make steady headway. There was some light sleet in the air but the night was completely still; not a breath of air to interrupt the blackening silence. It was soon broken as I was greeted by the sound of the River Cononish when I reached the main track. The sky wasn't clear and I could sense that the cloud was quite low around the hills that surrounded me, but it was still a pleasant night to be out. Another eventless plod later, and I was walking through Cononish - totally lifeless. I had read that there was a working gold mine nearby, but unfortunately my head touch didn't catch any nuggets lying around that might bring me fortune.
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| Heading through the forest towards Cononish |
The track became narrower and more undulating as it left the roar of the river behind, and I soon passed a parked ATV that looked quite new - still no signs of life. I suddenly felt quite alone in the wilds - which was a good feeling; exactly why I had decided to get away for a few days. The plan was to head to the end of the main track to the Allt an Rund and have a good rest for the night. In the morning I wanted to make an assault on Ben Lui via Central Gully I ***. I predicted quite a slog with a heavy bag but wanted a decent challenge. If all went smoothly and I made good time, then I would pop along to bag Beinn a'Chleibh and come back down and camp at the bealach above Coire Laoigh. If things went well, I planned to get back to Tyndrum via Ben Oss and Beinn Dubhchaig before catching the train back to Edinburgh. This was a fairly ambitious plan, and I new things would have to go pretty smoothly and conditions would need to be perfect if I was to achieve all of those goals.
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| Setting up camp below Ben Lui, Upper Glen Cononish |
I reached the Allt an Rund and dumped my pack down on a flat(ish) dry(ish!) patch the other side of a steep bank at the end of the track; fairly sheltered. I wandered over to have a look at the river and if it looked crossable. To my disgust it was high and raging over the ford - might have to take an early morning dip to get across that! I turned my attention back to getting set up for the night and getting a hot brew going. It was at this point that the heavens opened right on top of me. Damn. The forecast hadn't been for any rain so I had elected to take the bivi rather than the tent; it was going to be a damp night. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of getting into a bivi bag in heavy rain, then I can tell you that it is almost impossible to stay dry. Leaving my pack outside wrapped up in a survival bag, I zipped up the bivi and listened to the rain hammering against the Gore-Tex just a few centimetres from my face - brilliant...
It was a long, cold, damp uncomfortable night; I didn't sleep much. When I did manage to drift of, I was soon woken by my alarm at 8:30am. The rain had stopped during the night but was once again hammering down on top of me. I pulled back the zip a tiny bit and peered out. I could see that the mist was down all around. Not feeling overly inspired at all, I went back to sleep until 10:00am when, to my relief, the rain had ceased. Taking the dry opportunity, I packed up all my sleeping gear before getting a brew going and breakfasting. I wandered over to the river again for another look; I wanted to scope it out before picking up my bag. As I expected, it was even more higher and faster than last night due to all the rain. Looking to my left, I spotted a chap wading through the ford sideways and using his walking poles for balance. He made it across but he looked more than a little wet. I half watched him up the steep path on the other side and into the mist, as I looked for an alternative crossing point.
I grabbed my rucksack and headed a short way upstream to where I had spotted two large boulders as potential 'jumping stones'. Using my walking poles, this worked out well and I was safely across and dry- excellent. However, one of my walking poles had given up during the crossing and now refused to lock. Taking a closer look, it appeared it was beyond saving so I left it standing upright rather humbly at the edge of the ford; perhaps someone else passing this way will adopt it and make further use of it. With a single pole in hand, I headed up the path over the grassy slopes into the clouds. Looking back, there was a bit of a view down the Glen to Cononish and the track I had walked last night - then I disappeared into the mist and the view was gone...
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| Looking back down Glen Cononish |
The path hugged the waterfalls of the Allt Coire Ghaothaich as I approached the snow line in the low cloud. The terrain then flattened a little and opened out into Coire Gaothach. Ahead of me I spied the same chap I had seen earlier at the ford, taking off his crampons in the snow. I joined him and we had a bit of a natter. Turns out his name was Campbell: a soldier home for Christmas from his post in Germany. He said he had turned back, as there was too much snow for him. He wished me well as we parted company and I pushed on into the deeper snow.
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| Heading into Coire Gaothach, Ben Lui |
The mist was even thicker in the Corrie; with the lack of wind, the cloud was almost stagnant. However, there was no problem with navigation: I simply headed for the steepest ground and the deepest snow - time to get out the axe and crampons. It was hard going in the deep snow with my heavy pack and to say it was slow-going was a huge understatement. The quality of the snow was actually quite good. Initially, lower down, it was quite soft but as I got higher it was quite consolidated and seemed very stable. I had been reading up on Central Gully and it is a little renown for avalanches so I was keen to be cautious and not become a statistic! However, I knew that I could play it by ear and escape up onto the Northeast ridge if conditions weren't right. Fortunately, the snow continued to get firmer the higher I went - but there was a lot of it and it was hard going.
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| Heading into Coire Gaothach, Ben Lui |
I was absolutely wiped when out of the mist I spied a huge cornice over the the left - thankfully not directly above me! There was absolutely no way I was getting over it, or through it, but directly above me there was only a small cornice. When I eventually got close to it, I realised that it was actually massive and solid but a spied a small weakness along to my right - I made directly for this 'kink' and started swinging my adze. It took a massive amount of work to hack a 'slit' that I could get through. I threw my heavy pack up first and I scrambled up after it: I was finally at the top. After catching my breath, I had a short dander to the summit cairn - made it. I took a moment to take everything in: there wasn't a breath of wind and I couldn't see a thing around me due to the thick cloud and the fading light; it was getting late. The ascent had been quite a straggle with a rather large bag and had taken a great deal longer than I had hoped. It was clear that Beinn a'Chleibh was going to have to wait for another day.
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| Approaching Central Gully, Ben Lui |
I put on my head torch and headed down the Southeast ridge towards the bealach above Coire Laoigh. I had my compass out, as the nav was going to be a little tricky; there were a few obstacles (crags) to avoid on the descent and some of the slope was steeper in places than others. To add to the difficulty, the snow was way softer on this side of the hill but just as deep. This meant that it was extremely draining as I sank to my thigh (or more) with every step. After a while the slope got steeper so I started to traverse to the right in the deep snow to avoid the crags I could just make out below me. I paused to check by bearing with my compass and then I took my phone out to check the time. As I put my phone back in my pocket, I snagged the string on my compass and I fumbled it and it dropped to the snow. Before I knew what was happening, my compass was out of sight and disappeared towards the crags - gone. I cursed myself at what had just happened but I was thankful that it hadn't been my phone! I usually fix my compass to my chest pocket zipper to prevent this exact eventuality - but this time I hadn't... grrr!
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| Approaching Central Gully, Ben Lui |
I pushed on and cleared the steeper ground - without my compass I still knew that if I continued to head Southwest, then I would easily clear all difficulties. After a short steep section, the ground began to level out slightly and, recognising a couple of reentrants, I knew where I was. The wind had ceased and I was now below the clouds finally so I thought about taking a breather and taking in a brew. However, it seems that the decision about where and when to pause was out of my control, as I began to experience a horrible feeling in my stomach and the sudden urge to relieve myself. It could only be one thing - the dreaded Norovirus. I will spare you the details of the next hour, but by describing it as "highly unpleasant" is a huge understatement! I knew that I needed to get plenty of fluid back into me, so I set about brewing some tea. I sat there waiting for the pot to cool, and I suddenly felt very cold, despite my extra layers that I had recently put on. I reached for my final spare jacket, but it made no difference; then came the cold sweat and I started to shake uncontrollably - not a good place...
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| Approaching the summit, Ben Lui |
After plenty of tea and attempting to eat a little of my food, I decided that I needed to act rather swiftly as this had the potential to turn into a bad situation. I figured that I was likely to get worse over the next few hours, before I was likely to get better and on the side of Ben Lui in this remote part of the world was NOT the place I wanted to be right now. I slowly made my way around to my original destination: the bealach above Coire Laoigh. When I finally reached the wide plateau, my fever felt worse and I was starting to hear 'things' - far from ideal. I took another breather and thought that I should check in with Emily. To my horror, I discovered that my iPhone had 'crashed' and now refused to turn on - despite having plenty of battery life left in it. The dreaded "connect to iTunes" icon... This was now a bad situation all round; no doubt about it. The mission now was to get back to civilisation asap and in one piece! My main concern was not being able to check in back at base by texting Emily to let her know I was ok. It was settled then; I headed down into Coire Laoigh and started following the Allt Coire Laoigh. The terrain was fairly easy and I soon picked up a stalkers' path to follow. But I was not in a good place, both physically and mentally, so it was a real internal battle for me to keep going... not fun.
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| Approaching the summit, Ben Lui |
After a while, I finally arrived at the ford where I had camped the previous night. To my delight, the river was much lower and I had no difficulty walking across the shallows to the start of the main track. I collapsed there and tried to find the energy and the motivation to brew some more tea and to eat something else; needless to say, I was feeling rather sorry for myself. I thought about camping - but my stomach really didn't want to. I was worried that if I got any worse, then I was still quite far away from civilisation. Annoyingly I had no idea of the time - but I estimated that if I could make it back to Tyndrum asap, then it wouldn't be too late to call Emily from a pay phone and beg for a pickup!
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| Ice axe on the summit cairn of Ben Lui |
I decided that this was the best option to aim for, as my fever was now worse and I was trying not to vomit with each step forward. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the farm at Cononish and I took a rest to change the batteries in my head torch. I could hear the low hum of a generator coming from somewhere in the trees, but this was the only sign of life and there were no lights on in any of the buildings. Struggling on, I was thankful to reach the track heading up through the forest to the left and my route back to Tyndrum. Progress was painful, as well as being painfully slow. If I had thought I was slow heading up Central Gully earlier in the day, then this was a different league altogether. It was a cold night; very clear and fresh. The clouds had cleared and the stars were out. At any other time it would be a fantastic night to be out walking in the hills.
With relief, I came out of the forest and crossed the tracks; to civilisation. I passed the hotel by the main road and I could see that they were turning off the last of the lights in the bar and shutting up for the night - it was perhaps later than I thought. I've never been so happy to hear Emily's voice; on the other end of the pay phone - she was on her way... what a star!
I spent the next 36 hours recovering form the virus and had time to reflect on the epic I had just experienced. I was annoyed that I had forgotten my watch, dropped my compass, broke my walking pole and that my phone had given up. These things annoyed me more than getting ill, as the latter couldn't really be helped. The trip had been an emotional roller coaster to say the least. But I mainly remember the elation and the sense of the situation that I experienced in Central Gully. I can honestly say that it is one of the most enjoyable climbs I have completed, including summer and winter - a true classic and a journey I will never forget!
