Saturday 12 October
Distance and ascent: 23km, 600m
After three one-night backpacking trips this summer/autumn (plus one aborted due to a disgruntled back), it was time for a two-night trip. It was supposed to start on Thursday, but with 40mph winds in the forecast for Newtonmore for Friday (and, obviously, it’d be worse on the hills), I delayed by a couple of days. There was nearly another delay when, on Friday, the forecast for Saturday changed from mainly fine to 95% chance of heavy rain all day, but Sunday’s forecast was so good that I decided to put up with the rain, so as to get a perfect hill day for my Corbetts on Sunday.
The forecast hadn’t improved by Saturday morning, but there was no wind to speak of, so it was just wet, thus I set out at 0930, as planned, with my first stage being to Newtonmore station to jump on a train down to Dalwhinnie.
I’d never been to Newtonmore station before (unless you count passing through on a train), and it has an excellent view over the Cairngorms:
A good chat was had with the Train Manager (he knew what a Marilyn was!), even though I was only on the train for 10 minutes, and I arrived in Dalwhinnie to find that the sky was looking decidedly brighter to the south.
I still got rained on, including for about half an hour on the aqueduct track, but I would class it as light rain, not heavy. Then this happened:
I’d already paused at the hut by Loch Cuaich to take off my jumper and waterproof socks and to change from a beanie to my peaked cap, but fifteeen minutes later, half way to Coire Chuaich, I could bear the heat no longer. Off came the Paramo jacket in favour of my windshirt, and my Paramo trousers were unzipped right down to the ankles. It was turning into a start/stop faffy sort of a day.
Beyond the end of the track, a trodden line soon petered out, so it was a yomp to pick up the line of the old stalkers’ track that was much more obvious from a distance than when on it. By the time I reached it, the sky to the south had turned ominous, and I could see I was in danger of getting wet feet on this path, so I called yet another halt, this time for lunch and to put back on the waterproof socks I’d only taken off half an hour earlier.
By the time I’d finished eating (during which time my backpack, which had been sitting nicely next to me, decided to perform three somersaults down the hillside and had to be retrieved), I was back in my heavy jacket, with my warm mitts back on, and only a few minutes after I set back off, snow started gently to fall.
The real snowstorm timed itself nicely to last for almost the entire pathless section from the top of that stalkers’ path to the equally disused stalkers’ path that runs down to Gaick Lodge. Let’s compare and contrast:
Looking off the side of Sgor Dearg, before reaching my descent path, I nearly made the decision to drop off the side of the hill and lop a sizeable corner off my route, until I remembered that one of the purposes of this trip was to check out the state of the Gaick stalkers’ path. It’s obviously little used these days, but with care is still followable (which is to say that every now and then I had to look around carefully to work out whether it went onwards or had switched back on itself). I didn’t follow it all the way down to the glen, as my plotted route forded the river at Gaick Lodge, only to ford it again 2km later, which seemed more faff than heading pathlessly to the bridge just N of Loch Bhrodainn (which I had been able to see from up high; I wasn’t relying on its depiction on the map). The going wasn’t too bad for most of the way, but within 30m of my objective I realised two things: 1) there was another burn between me and the bridge; and 2) the bridge no longer has a walkway:
I changed into fording shoes and waded to a bank in the middle of the river, but a couple of steps beyond that bank told me the channel that side was too deep. So I retreated and contemplated other fording options. I could see none. Thus my Foul Weather Alternative came into play, another faff was had to put my shoes back on, and I stayed on the W side of Loch Bhrodainn and hope that the next bridge along was useable.
An ATV track and a series of trods helped me along my way (and I confirmed that had I not attempted to use the first bridge, but had maintained a higher line from where I left the Stalkers’ path, I could have crossed the burn without wading and avoided the section of trogging through long grass). This was a fine sight to see:
I ended up
pitching not far from this bridge, but not before I continued along my route to
see if there was a pitch by one of the next two burns. There wasn’t so I backtracked
and first investigated the land next to a side burn, but rejected the one
plausible pitch I found there for being a little slopey. I settled for a spot
further downstream, out in the open:
That is not one of our tents! As I’ve been struggling to sleep in the flappy Laser Competition, I borrowed a Durston Xmid for this trip. As I got inside and made my tea, I was impressed at how solid it felt and was looking forward to a getting a good night’s sleep ready for my hills on the morrow (although I had realised that my plan to leave the tent pitched whilst I did my hill circuit was flawed, in that the tent uses walking poles as its support, so I had the option of taking the tent, or leaving my poles – but I decided to defer the decision as to which option to take until the morning).
Only a few minutes later, my trip was to take an unexpected turn…
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