The Road goes ever on and on; Down from the door where it began;
Now far ahead the Road has gone; And I must follow, if I can;
Pursuing it with eager feet; Until it joins some larger way;
Where many paths and errands met; And whither then? I cannot say.

[JRR Tolkien, Lord of the Rings]

Friday 4 October 2024

Drumguish to Baileguish (via Carn Dearg Mor - NN 82326 91178; 857m)

Thursday 3 October

Distance and ascent: 22.9km, 697m

Weather: Mainly sunny with good air clarity

As I crept downstairs at 0630 yesterday morning, I couldn’t help but notice the frost glistening away on the cars outside and the car thermometer said -0.5 when I cadged a lift with Ali, as she took her daughter to work.

Ali kindly went a few miles out of her way, dropping me at Drumguish at just gone 8am. That starting point was 4.3km from where I was to spend the night, but as you’ll see from the stats above, I took a somewhat longer route.

Glen Tromie and Glen Feshie are reasonable well-known, but in between them sits the lesser-visited Gleann Chomraig. The fact that there is no habitation in the glen, and that until a year or two ago it didn’t have a track, and thus involved a rough walk (and a bridgeless river crossing) probably contributes to its obscurity, compared with its two neighbours. So, to reach my summit for the day (which sits overlooking Glen Feshie), I opted to go along Gleann Chomraig, using the new track for as far as it went, then either picking up the path as marked on the map, or just heading across country.

Gleann Chomraig has been subject to a programme of planting native trees over the last few years. It’s still a bit of an empty bleakness at the moment, dotted with tiny trees, but in fifteen years I imagine it will be quite lovely.
Planting the glen is, it seems, a residential job.

At the point where the new track ended, there were two ATV tracks in front of me: one going S, following the line of the path marked on the map; the other heading east. S was the more direct line for my purposes, so I followed that one, which was fine, if boggy, until it petered out.

There then ensued a kilometre and a half of yomping through vegetation up to my knees, during which I contemplated my lack of ability to make the best decisions when faced with various route choices. This does, of course, suppose that my assumption as to the line taken by the other ATV track is correct, and also assumes that track didn’t also suddenly stop. Plus, it would certainly have been less direct, so I would have had to ponder ‘when is a longer route on easier terrain preferable to a shorter route on harder terrain’. I’ll never know which was the best route, but I was mightily glad when I stumbled upon another ATV track, which I did follow, even though it was far less direct than just continuing to yomp up the hillside.

My photos taken from Carn Dearg Mor don’t even start to do justice to the vista as seen by the naked eye, looking down on Glen Feshie and across to the Munros beyond:

The day was almost perfect for that ridge walk (about 4km long), with my only complaint being the cold wind. It wasn’t quite bad enough for me to dig my Buffalo mitts back out, making do instead with my fingerless gloves.

With no shelter to be had up on the ridge (no rocks, no dips in the landscape, no trees), I didn’t stop for lunch until I gained the forest track that was going to take me the final 4km to my night-stop.


I saw these signs as I looked back on exiting the area of forestry works. There hadn’t been a single sign on my way in. I also hadn’t been warned not to climb on timber stacks.

It was five past two when I reached the end of my day. That was rather earlier than I would have liked, and I did give contemplation to continuing on to walk the final 15km back to Newtonmore, arriving there in time for tea. However, that would have defeated the primary purpose of the trip, which was to spend the night out. So, I brewed a pint of tea and sat on a convenient log for a couple of hours in the sunshine, before putting the tent up:

There was a whole expanse of lawn, but being so close to a track and a building, my overactive imagination pictured a vehicle pulling in during the night and not spotting my tent in their parking spot, so I crammed myself between the logs and some tussocks.

I was joined part way through that time by a cyclist who had ridden in from Braemar and was on his way to Kingussie, but he only stayed for fifteen minutes or so before continuing on.

With sunset at quarter to seven, I was tucked up in the tent nice and early, hoping for a good night’s sleep.

Taking the long way around to get 4km away!

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

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