42 kilometers on a bowl of alpen and a flapjack...

Firstly allow me to apologise for the lack of recent blog activity. My last (unrecorded on here) trip was to A' Ghlas Bheinn from Sheil bridge with a publicity shy friend. She insists that I am unable to write about our walks, nor take pictures, hence the lack of a blog as I respected her wishes. A most enjoyable day was had in, at times, searing heat. The only downside was the innumerable amount of bites inflicted on me by resident horseflies (clegs) as we trampled across gorse on the way down the slopes at the end of a long day. Coupled with a sleepless night camping due to the increasing winds it meant that I had to cut short an attempt on the Saddle and Sgurr na Signe the following day...I was completely drained of energy by the time I reached the bealach...and suffered from a feeling of lacklustre for a few days afterwards. The plus point of this retreat was that I escaped the storms that blew in around ten minutes after I climbed back into the car...and lasted for the next few days.

 

The three weeks since then have been filled with shifts at work and a general inability to get away because of a downturn in the weather on my days off. Until yesterday that is!!!

 

The one negative side of electing to bag Munro's is that not every trip takes in sweeping ridge lines, or scrambling on crags, or good company...sometimes it involves a very long lonely walk and feels rather mundane!! Unfortunately yesterday was just such a day. I left the house at six o'clock, fuelled with a bowl of alpen (ooh yummy), and headed out to Linn of Dee, just past Braemar, arriving just after half past seven. By quarter to eight I was on my way to the longest walk of the year so far...all 42k of it.

From Linn of Dee car park head west along the land rover track, through some sweeping heather clad hills that gradually fade away to be replaced by rolling moorland. I was surrounded by purple heather, everywhere I looked, a sea of purple.

I had done the start of today's walk two years ago with Chris, when we had set off on a long and arduous trek to bag Beinn Bhrotain and Monadh Mor (35.5k), but that paled in comparison to today's remote adventure. I followed the track, passing some ruins of old settlements, out to the white bridge (which is actually red) to where the track splits and heads off into Glen Geldie/Glen Tilt.

Alternatively you can follow the right branch of track across the bridge and head to Beinn Bhrotain along the banks of the River Dee. I followed the Geldie Burn into Glen Geldie for a further 2k to an old building, where the path forks again. Heading south takes you across the Geldie Burn and on towards Glen Tilt following the Bynack Burn...I carried on west further into Glen Geldie.

Continuing on the outward track the feeling of remoteness grows as the hills around you recede and are replaced by rolling moorland. I realised that I was skirting around the southern flanks of Beinn Bhrotain, albeit from a distance, which gives you a sense of just how huge an area the Cairngorms actually covers. I had been walking for just over an hour now and knew I had only made the slightest dent in my day. I had at least another 6k to traverse until I reached Geldie Lodge. My spirits were being dented by the sight of cyclists passing me on the track, with cheery hello's being exchanged each time, on a track that felt like it was going to go on for ever!! 

The only thing that was breaking the monotony on this choice of route was checking my timing against arriving at landmarks, for use on the way back. I crossed two noted streams on the outward journey that suggested wet feet were a possibility, but thankfully negated them with dry feet. Two hours after leaving the car I crossed the Geldie Burn on a set of boulders that are not always possible when the burn is in spate, keeping my boots dry on such a long walk was always going to be important, and trudged up the path towards Geldie Lodge. I could see all the bikes of the cyclists that had passed me, and quite a few that had obviously been out before me, leaning against the ruins of the old lodge.

I stopped to munch a flapjack, date and walnut, as I realised that it had been 4.5 hours since I had eaten anything. It was ten o'clock and I planned to be on the summit of Carn an Fhidhleir by no later than noon so the stop was brief and I munched on the hoof. From the lodge the path thins out and twists and turns and twists again many times, winding it's way through the heather clad gentle inclines above the Glen floor. The path that I was following is initially shown on OS maps but peters out on the map well before it actually does.

A short descent is required to reach the Allt a'Chaorainn before climbing back up the grass slopes following a very faint path initially, which then disappears, and then trudging through bogs and heather to reach the lower slopes of Carn an Fhidhleir. As I began to climb the grassy slopes I noticed that the defined ridge I was aiming for kept getting further away, reality being that the slopes of Carn an Fhidhleir do not meet in anything more than a rolling plateau beneath the stony ground higher up, and also three of the cyclists that had passed me earlier were not that far ahead of me. I maintained my trajectory and aimed for a swell to my left, where the faintest of paths could be spotted leading to the summit plateau. I caught, and then passed, the three cyclists who expressed admiration for my dogged determination in catching them up after the start they had on me. The ground becomes stonier and firmer than the earlier slopes and soon the summit cairn, tiny though it is, came into view.

Two of the other cyclists that had passed me earlier were sitting at the cairn when I arrived, again expressing surprise that I had managed to catch them up. They informed me that the other cyclist had just left the summit and appeared to be heading off in the wrong direction, perhaps not interested in bagging An Sgarsoch like the rest of us. The summit cairn of Carn an Fhidhleir sits at 994m and has extensive views across to the main Cairngorm range, Blair Atholl Munro's, Glenshee and Glen Feshie.

 

I had made the summit at around eleven thirty, good going indeed, and departed for Munro no2 fifteen minutes later. The wind had picked up on the summit and there was no shelter from it, other than dropping off out of it. I followed the clear path heading south-east off the plateau to skirt left around the oncoming spot height, on a narrow muddy gouge through the slope. All the while the summit of An Sgarsoch lay in sight to my left.

I estimated that I should make the next summit in an hour. A descent to a boggy bealach at 702m leaving me a 304m slog up the far slopes. The descent down the grassy slope was a lot better than previous descents I have made on similar terrain. The bogs at the bealach were easily navigated, including an impromptu toilet stop, and I was soon picking my way through the heather and bogs on the way back up the other slope. Just like the previous Munro, the slopes were riddled with pools of green goo just waiting for the inattentive bagger to step into. Higher up the slopes the ground grew firmer beneath my feet, becoming increasingly stony as I went on. The summit cairn sits just a little further on from a rocky outcrop in the middle of a wide plateau. An Sgorsach is 1006m high and has a far more significant cairn than the previous Munro. 

Jelly McBaby took his customary perch on top of the cairn and posed for some pictures. It was one o'clock, I had taken fifteen minutes longer than hoped for to reach the summit. The two guys from the first summit were just leaving, they had managed to put some distance between us due to my toilet stop at the bealach, and I wished them well for the journey back. I surveyed my surroundings and took in the views that presented themselves even better from this summit. The rain that was for this afternoon had started to drizzle in and this stopped me seeing too far into the distance...I was gutted not to see Schiehallion across the expanse of the Atholl Munro's. The weather was blowing in from Drumochter in an easterly direction, meaning at least it would be behind me on the way back to Linn of Dee.

Looking north from the summit I could see into the main Cairngorm range...the pick of which from this angle was highlighting the Devil's Point just beyond the bulk of Beinn Bhrotain. I headed off down the slopes in front of me, bearing north, stepping carefully lower down as the ground became a little boggier. In front of me Sgarsoch Beag blocked my path and the route suggested cutting left around it to regain the outer path. I could see from here that the terrain was much of the same at either side of Sgarsoch Beag so elected to cut round it to the right, hopefully cutting a little distance and time off my return route. I hopped across the occasional small peat bog and skirted around the far larger ones. I found what appeared to be a faint path through the heather on the far slopes and followed it for a distance. As hoped, I would be able to cut a short distance off my return by cutting through the heather clad moor lower down, slower going than the path but psychologically I appeared to be gaining an advantage. The best thing about it was I overtook the two other walkers (cyclists from earlier) on the way down the slopes and began to put some distance between myself and them on the way back to Geldie Lodge.

I now had the prospect of at least a two hour trek back along the outward path to reach my car once more. It was half past two by the time I arrived at the lodge and I was starting to feel the effects of such a long walk out on my knees and lower back. I managed to cross the Geldie burn again without getting my boots wet and started the looooong trudge back. The rain started briefly but never amounted to much more than a light drizzle. I made it back to the old building in an hour, meaning I was still on target time wise, and had yet to be passed by any of the cyclists from earlier. I felt pretty good about the fact that I was in sight of the White Bridge when the first cyclists passed me, the two guys from the summits. 

I crossed the White Bridge, hopefully for the last time, and started the final leg of my journey. Talking of legs...it was around this stage that I began to feel my knees stiffen up and a slight pain in my hip. I was starting to slow down considerably, which only worsened when I stopped at a tree for a pee. The final mile must have easily been the slowest mile I have ever walked...I have never been so grateful to see my car at the end of a walk yet!! Just short of nine hours after leaving the car park I pulled my weary limbs up the final few meters and collapsed exhausted into the back seat of the car. I took a few minutes to stretch my legs, for fear of them seizing up on the drive home, then changed into less sweaty attire.

 

I sit here today typing this blog and can still feel the effects of such a long trek. My joints ache and I keep needing to move around to get the blood flowing...the drawback of old age I suppose??? On a positive note however, it's another two Munro's closer to being finished and I will never have to return on that route again!!

 

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Cairngorm National Park contains a wealth of information for anyone wishing to visit the area.

 

Geldie Lodge history