Clashgour is a lovely wee hut. Now both “lovely” and “wee” are subjective terms and open to debate, although I would like to think that most people who spend time in Clashgour Hut do appreciate the character of the place, the compact, yet functional space, the history – over a hundred years old and formally a school, still retaining the school bell and the framed sketch on the wall of the “Horny Golloch” with attached poem that apparently dates back to Clashgour’s own school days. Its current incarnation as the hut of Glasgow University Mountaineering Club has been a long and vibrant one, where the fast turnaround of club membership has lead to successive generations of club members adding to and changing the hut but retaining its special character in the 65 years since the lease was first signed with Blackmount Estate in 1948.

But I digress, there was another term there and that was “wee”. Yes, it’s fair to say that if you like to have plenty space to wander around, to be guaranteed of a seat, to not have to shuffle past and potentially kick others as you move from your perch to the “facilities” and to lie comfortably in bed a good distance from the nearest offending snorer then perhaps Clashgour is not the best venue if your party consists of greater than half a dozen members.

So, bearing this in mind, eleven Moray Mountaineers descended on Clashgour Hut on a crisp cold Friday evening. Millions of stars twinkled overhead and the frost glistened underfoot. Plans started to be hatched in the carpark before the walk in to the hut… the classic “How much beer, how much gear” debate. Dan and Joe, with aspirations for the classic Upper Couloir decided on the more beer, less gear approach and much metalwork and a rope was left in the boot of the car, which as it transpired, was not a bad thing.

Andy was first to arrive and dutifully unlocked the hut, removed the shutters and lit the stove. He had plenty time to find his way around the entrance foyer, living room, kitchen and bedroom before the arrival of the rest of the group. The rest of the group did indeed arrive, in dribs and drabs, gradually filling the space within the hut, some may say overfilling. A sensation almost like that of enjoying a lovely meal that is too large to eat but too tasty to leave on the plate so is inevitable polished off to leave the diner feeling uncomfortably full. So Clashgour was full, perhaps uncomfortably full. A fine evening was had nonetheless, with additional merriment being provided by the appearance of some very tasty homemade cupcakes and a bottle of bubbly to celebrate the President’s 21st (?) birthday.

With said president in mind I will now let him take the reins and describe Saturday’s adventure upon Stob Ghabhar with Jake Lee and Joe: “With ropes, axes, gear, crampons and helmets packed we headed up the glen to the bealach. The book said contour round the hill and ascend. So we did. Found a couloir and went up. Probably about Grade I, which we thought must be our Grade II “Upper Couloir” banked out a bit more than normal. Part of the way up we were met by two stones hurtling down. This, together with rather soft snow conditions was enough to divert our attention from the real “Upper Couloir”. The summit of Stob Ghabhar was eventually reached. A second Munro was added to the end of the day for good measure.”

Colin made good use of his bike, and in addition to using it to make short shrift of the walk in to the hut also cycled up towards Beinn Suidhe. Colin was lucky enough to see an eagle soaring for a good five minutes while on the hill and enjoyed the weather steadily improving as the day wore on. Andy, Fiona, Bob and Malcolm did the classic Clashgour horseshoe of Stob a’Choire Odhair and Stob Ghabhar, with fine views across Rannoch Moor being had from the former summit, but the latter, higher one being swathed in cloud. The happy quartet agreed that it was a grand day out.

Margaret and Graeme G followed in the footsteps of the aforementioned quartet, albeit at a slightly more leisurely pace. They enjoyed great views when the cloud lifted, saw a couple of Ptarmigan and a Golden Eagle, quite possibly the same Eagle that Colin saw.

Graeme M and Penny The Wonder Dog had their own adventure, best described by Graeme: “Ben Vorlich and Stuc a’Chroin. Headed to area with best forecast. It was blue skies and very warm. Met loads of people not equipped for winter mountaineering, e.g. bunch of weegies with trainers and joggers on who commented to me that I had “jaggie pointie things on my feet man”. Surprisingly they made the summit of Ben Vorlich. Luckily they didn’t go for Stuc a’Chroin. Another perfect winter day.”

Another fine evening was had in the hut, one slightly notable incident being the inability of one particular person to stay upright after borrowing Colin’s bike for a beer and coal run to the car park. Nobody knows exactly what happened but the bike leapt onto the moor and
the rider was launched onto the track leaving a sore, stiff and bloodied knee that put pay to any more hillwalking for the weekend.

As for the major drama, this was played out the next morning. As the hut’s residents were one by one getting up and ready Malcolm announced that he has lost his phone. He then discovered that he had lost his keys too. He searched the hut and all of his stuff, and others joined in the desperate search but alas, they were lost. The moorland around the hut was combed forensically by lines of people as it gradually dawned on poor Malcolm that he had seen the last of his keys and phone. Hope seemed to be completely lost and thoughts turned on what to do with a car with no key. That is, until somebody decided to have one last check of jackets hanging up inside the hut. Sure enough, there was a jacket with keys in one pocket and a phone in the other. They were Malcolm’s keys, and Malcolm’s phone, and yes, it was Malcolm’s jacket!

As for the remainder of Sunday, I have only what follows to report the club’s activities, composed, I believe, by Penny: “Dan, Graeme M, Jake, Malcolm, Penny TWD. Once Malcolm had located his keys and phone (they were in his jacket pocket that he forgot he had!) we headed off to climb Beinn a Chochuill and Beinn Eunaich. The ascent was steady and it was not long before we were on the summit surveying the view. To the west lay the bridge over the rapids at the mouth of Loch Etive; to the east we could see the two hills behind Clashgour Hut. The hut itself was just out of sight. It was time to leave so we collected Malcolm’s stuff and headed east along the ridge to the second summit. No views this time; just a little drizzle. There was an easy descent on snow and soft grass to about 400m and then an “oo-my-knees” final steep bit back to the track and civilisation.”

Report author: Joe