Bought a map of Assynt in the far north west Scotland. In the contours and other symbols, there promises a strange landscape with that one steep hump dominating.
The remoteness means a long walk in, probably totalling 25 miles for the day.
At least this week’s walk in the Carneddeau proves that my stamina is adequate.
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6~14C, S brisk, clear.
Thirty years ago I first set eyes on this mountain. That was a Youth Hosteling trip with my brother on cheap, unreliable bikes. The day we arrived was warm sunshine and we both got sunburnt. The second day it rained heavily and a landslide closed the main road. We were, therefore stuck here a few days. In all of this, Tryfan stuck in my mind. It looked ominous those days. It looks like a clenched fist on the valley side.
Today, I climbed it. I took the Heather Terrace route on the east face. Conditions were perfect but it was three hours climbing.
The title- bimble is a new word to me. They use it here to mean an easy walk, like amble, stroll, plod and all the rest. Clearly, there is a need for a word with a comedy tone.
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14~9C, barely any wind, clear.
Tonight will get cold. It’s still and quiet here in this valley in North Wales. I got here about three in the afternoon, made camp and decided there was time for a walk.
Camp is about a km from Tryfan, which I you to climb tomorrow. It is a rough scramble, so I never wanted to inflict that on Rosie.
It’s as strange walking without her as I thought would be. Somehow, it feels wrong. Enough sad thoughts, I am here to unwind and enjoy myself.
I walked 5 miles today along the eastern end of the Glyderau- a quiet area, the hordes in west from here. I saw no-one.
The Welsh hills are still straw in colour, there is green between the old dead plants from last year, but it’s yet to get going.
Mosses look bright enough though.
First walks of the year are hard on the front of thigh muscles. I swear every time to train them up to get ready, but never I do.
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30°C, hot, sunny, ne wind.
Big climb: through endless pine and beech forest. The walk in was a long steady gradient through forest. A magical fairytale forest filled with strange animal sounds and clouds of butterflies that rise as you walk. Feathery lichens littered the ground and pillows of alpine flowers were in full but tiny bloom. What an enchanted place, intoxicating.
What a big climb too, a long long slog I stopped at the refuge, a wooden hut provided for hikers on stage 1 of the GR20. Three horses waited nearby, untethered. Were they used to bring up supplies for the warden?
From there, I found the trail to the col and thence the summit of Monte Corona, 2,144m. Bolders covered the ground which made for good scrambling. They were solid, made of granite and offered a good grip.
I couldn’t stay at the summit for long, I feared loss of light at end of the descent in a dense forest.
A day of good fortune though. An easy, fast 2 hour descent got me to the road just as light failed. Only then did I need the head-torch. Even my frayed boot-lace held right to the end.
30C, clear, light ne.
Visit the start of the GR20 on Corsica. Planning a potential hike on past of the main route. The paths appear clear and well marked. The heights are way above what I am used to- more like the alps.
We swam in the shallow rapids and sprang over large rounded bolders. It seems easy from here. The choice of routes is wide, from 2 hours to over 6. There is an 18km route that that includes a 2300m summit and a long ridge walk. Could take ten hours., but the return is long and follows easy valley terrain.
14°C, drizzly showers,
Last Monroe of the trip. Not a difficult climb by any means. It was interesting in a few specific ways.
1, vegetation- very mossy on the top: perhaps this top is almost always in cloud. The moss was just like the stuff I find in the gutters at home. It filled the gaps between bolders but did make them rather slippery. Although not as bad as black mosses, it still requires a change of approach.
2, Cruachan is a mountain that has been turned into a massive hydro-electric station. It can pump water up into the lake to use later in time of high demand on the national grid. More interestingly, it also draws water from Eunaich through tunnels. It can collect water directly from streams via small dams then channel them through the tunnels that run deep below the ground, right under the mountain. It was one of these tunnel entrances that fascinated me.
Tarkovsky would have recognised them. You’ll see what I mean when I can upload some pictures.
I found this place rather spooky. Looking into the tunnel is looking at an endless inky blackness that gurgles and thunders an deep mix of sounds that makes the mountain seem alive.
Through the gate…
16C, good start.
Creag Meagaidh is just one summit in a horseshoe of others well over 3,000ft. They form an undulating ridge with fascinating and varied views all round. Start at 9.30, but it still took me till 15.00 to reach the title summit. Okay, so I had to take a catnap on the plateau, but still…
That felt like a very hard day. I don’t know how it happened, but I normally don’t read the time very often. But when I did, it was quite a shock that it read 2pm and I had not wet eaten lunch. Terrible, no wonder that I felt so dreadful. Why not have a sensation of hunger to make it unnecessary?
Anyway, a great day only marred buy a tricky descent through a birch forest, the path was hidden, roots were a serious tripping hazard and the rocks mossy and slippery as ice.
21°C, very wet morning, lovely later.
The bothy is out of reach, the river in spate, is impassable. I did try, but the brown water is too strong and deep in the middle.
Camp opposite the Bothy
It’s been a good day, all went to plan despite a rotten start. Rain poured all night, so it looked daunting. Once I got underway, the sky cleared and great photos presented themselves.
Today I did the half day walk intended- Bouhontine and the parallel roads. Guide-books always show photos of them them in winter but they are quite clear even now, all covered in grass, heather and bracken.
The best part of the walk was the secret valley behind Bouhontine hill.
As I write, I any lying in my tent, awaiting a good night’s sleep. Last time I wildcamped, I was spooked by a bellowing stag.
Wish me luck.
22°C-ish,clearing but rain evening.
Climbed Rhinog Fawr 724m alt (according to my phone GPS app). There were a few groups of people on the summit, mainly those who had taken the same route as I.
We all agreed that Wales was very quiet compared to usual for an end of July weekend. Anyway, after a very slow start that saw us leave at 11.30, the day just got better starting with sunshine on that summit.
Now I’m lying in the tent in the pouring rain on this, the last night before we go home.
-3 to +9, clear blue.
Crossed the ridge from south to North. Walked for 8½ hours with a few breaks not counting photo stops. Most of it was on snow. A new experience for me, the technique seems to be – dig your heels in on the way down. There were few of The ice slides I had feared but I did change the route. It’s a bit like walking on soft sand, except that the support is less predictable. Sometimes the snow supports your weight, sometimes your foot plunges in deep. Deep enough to reach your bum a few times.
Micycle 