Ben Lui redemption...

Approximately 19 months ago, to the very day, I was part of a CMB expedition to these parts that ultimately ended in failure. Having climbed (and almost drowned on) Ben Oss and Beinn Dubhcraig from Dalrigh we had attempted Ben Lui and Beinn a' Chleibh the following day from Glen Lochy. The river Lochy was in full spate and we had been unable to cross safely, deciding instead to venture 1.5k down stream to a bridge, then risking the railway tracks back to the start point, after which we then couldn't cross the Eas Daimh as it was thundering downstream like a raging torrent!! On that fateful occasion I had Angus Macleod, Mike Charlton, Paddy Rodgers and Spot (big Andy) for company...this time I was alone. All the way down from Aberdeen I had been fretting about being unable to cross the Lochy again, or finding the Eas Daimh in full flow...or being caught crossing the railway tracks and getting a £2000 fine for my troubles!! Thankfully upon arrival my fears were alleviated by the glorious conditions and I was able to negotiate both water hazards without even getting the soles of my boots wet.

Firstly I crossed the Lochy, which although wide, was shallow and provided visible stepping stones. I then crossed the railway tracks (do they seriously believe that anyone is going to squeeze under the bridge that the Eas Daimh flows out through!!!) and narrowly missed the 1045 to Oban thundering past...

I then headed up the boggy path into the forest and continued to follow the flow of the Eas Daimh, at least until I was halted by the sight of a tree down across the path. I was left with the option of wasting time searching beyond the reach of the stricken tree for a route around, or crawling beneath the prone branches to the path on the far side...I elected to crawl. Once safely, and surprisingly cleanly, through to the other side I continued on the boggy path, crossed the Eas Daimh and continued to follow the path up Fionn Choire as it flirted with the line of trees, then merged into the woods, emerging higher up even boggier than before. There were footprints through the bogs of walkers that had clearly decided their boots were expendable and cared not one jot for the care and attention that needs to be lavished on high vis boots to maintain their brightness and lifespan. If anyone reading these blogs over the past two years has not realised by now...I am something of an OCD sufferer and cannot abide getting messy for no good reason. If I do require to get down and dirty then I immediately set about rectifying this when I get home and ensure that my gear is always in the most pristine condition for the next time I require it.

Anyway, I digress slightly, the path was boggy enough at the best of times, without choosing to simply plod on through the worst bits of it with a gay abandon.

After what felt like an interminable plod through mud I arrived through the trees at the deer fence that slices across the lower reaches of the corrie and cordons off the trees from those voracious raptor like creatures that devour everything in their path. When you see the damage that deer do to the highlands it is hard to feel any sympathy for them when discussing culls...plus I am quite partial to the occasional venison burger!

After negotiating the deer gate...once opened I could not manage to lock it again and had to secure it in place with a piece of broken wire I found lying around...I headed up hill and away from the fence. The view ahead was masked from view by a thin layer of mist cloaking both tops of Lui and Chleibh. The path now meandered vary faintly towards the flanks of Ben Lui, or towards the Bealach between the two Munro's. I elected to leave the bealach path for the return journey and headed firstly towards Ben Lui. The path disappears in the grass and fades away to nothing, unless a keen eye is kept on it. Unfortunately my keen eye is usually found wandering everywhere but the path as views come into focus all around me and I concentrate instead on clicking away with my camera. With the view in front of me obscured by mist I looked behind me instead as the brooding behemoth of Ben Cruachan loomed into view above the village of Dalmally. Ben Cruachan holds a very special place in my heart as it was my very first meeting with Jelly McBaby (15th May 2010 on my 55th Munro) and he has been with me almost every step of the way since (only being kept apart by inclement weather and holidaying separately). It was also one of the last Munro's I climbed with my friend Asima, who fell out of love with hillwalking around that time and has only recently returned to action. I realised that feeling nostalgic had given me a warm glow inside...which was a relief as I initially thought it was my guts playing up...you just don't need dodgy guts on a long day up the hills. 

Thankfully for myself and you, my long suffering reader, this was not a long day in the hills after all. Despite suffering from a pulled calf muscle last week (the very same one that I tore last year that kept me out of action for almost four weeks) I still managed to burst these Munro's in 4.5 hours. The slog up the grassy slopes towards Ben Lui was hard going, but not as bad as I had feared when I set off this morning (I had fears about my calf giving up on me and forcing me to abandon). The mist started to clear as I approached the summit ridge, the views across to Beinn a' Chleibh were improving dramatically.

The underfoot conditions were changing from grass to rock and a path appeared from nowhere to lead me up the ridge and onto the summit. As I pulled up onto the summit ridge I spotted three other walkers approaching from Stob Garbh above the magnificent winter climb of Central Gully. With the north-west summit now in sight I could hear other voices in front of me. I pulled on to the summit plateau and saw a group of other walkers just departing the south-east summit towards Beinn a' Chleibh. From either summit there are magnificent views down the Cononish glen to Dalrigh. Unfortunately the cloud base decided to drop as I reached the summit and the more extensive views I had been hoping for of Crianlarich, Dalmally, Loch Awe, Tyndrum, Glen Orchy all disappeared from sight. Nevertheless I still managed to persuade Jelly McBaby to pose on the summit cairn 1130m.

I could see a large group of walkers ahead of me now, snaking their way down to the bealach, at least eight strong. As I headed down the path behind them the other three I had seen earlier pulled onto the summit ridge behind me. I had not seen as many people on a single Munro in one day all year long (by the end of the walk I would have counted 22 other walkers, more than any single day since I had been on Ben Nevis 2 years ago). I quickly caught the first group of three as I meandered down the slope to the bealach and got chatting with them. Apparently they were a group of 11 ramblers that meet up each year for a week and try to do as many Munro's in a certain area, this year being Crianlarich, as they can manage. They had come from as far afield as Canada and Australia just to sample the delights of the Scottish Highlands in summer. I was enjoying the company for a change and stopped to chat to each of them in turn as we made our way to the summit of Beinn a' Chleibh 916m. Once at the cairn I offered to take a group shot of them all, which they happily posed for. They headed off in the opposite direction to me as they had to meet their lift down on the A85 by Dalmally. Jelly McBaby can sometimes by quite a shy character and on this occasion he elected to wait until the crowds had died away before standing proud on the summit cairn.

As I headed down from the summit, returning once more to the bealach, I passed some more groups of walkers. You get so used to being out on your own in the hills, often going many trips between meeting other people, that it feels strange to see so many out in one day. It is fabulous that so many people are managing to get out into our glorious countryside and experience the delights of Munroing. The return journey follows the path down onto the bealach and then down into Coire Fionn and along the grassy declines back to the deer fence, negotiating once more the boggy path all the way back to the river Lochy, then finally the car. As I was getting changed out of sweaty gear at the car I was approached by an elderly gentleman from a nearby camper van, enquiring about my day in the hills. He then proceeded to tell me about his own, youthful, experiences of Munro bagging many years ago. The old fella seemed pleased to have someone willing to spend half an hour with him listening to his tales...and I was happy to be that person (I may well be him one day). I offered to share my flapjack with him as we chatted about various peaks we had traversed around Scotland almost forty years apart and the advances in wet weather protection in that time. As we chatted we were approached by an elderly woman who started to chastise the old fella for taking up too much of my time, then apologised (needlessly) for her husband boring me with his tales. I explained that I hoped I was still sounding as enthusiastic about my treks when I am his age. I left him being dragged back to the camper van and started to think about my journey to Kinlochleven and the chance to complete the Mamore range tomorrow...after a relaxing night in the Tailrace Inn with some mad West Highland Way walkers I had yet to meet... 

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