This winter we have seen some highs and lows. High winds, low clouds; high teas, low level walks; high spirits (some over 60% abv), low expectations. Now it is March, the birds are tweeting, the spring bulbs are flowering and the the earth is slowly wakening up and some of us wonder what has become of the winter when there has been so little snow low down but so much high up that it has been difficult to get out, what with immensely deep snow drifts, dangerous avalanche conditions and hurricane force winds. One might even be forgiven for wondering what the second “M” in MMC stands for when the exploits of the club are recorded.

Not so this weekend. Lagangarbh proved to be a very popular venue, the classic climbing hut at the top of Glen Coe perched beneath the mighty Buachaille Etive Mor. The list filled up fast and many long standing members of the club had to be turned away. Even the President didn’t manage to get his name on the list in time and so couldn’t join us for the weekend.

The key to the hut was placed in the hands of a very poor time keeper, so when faced with the options of being there on time (never going to happen) arriving late (most probable, and most annoying) or getting there ridiculously early he chose the last of these options, and so Joe arrived at 11pm on Thursday evening after spending a good part of the journey standing at a layby somewhere between Newtonmore and Spean Bridge absolutely transfixed by the best display of Aurora Borealis for over a decade.

Aurora Borealis (taken from Banff)

The next day was spent skiing at Glen Coe resort, usually known as a place where the skiing is great but only when there’s enough snow. This time there was plenty. Too much even, and the upper tows were out of action, buried under the drifts. Not a problem though, there was still plenty to be skied, short queues, and higher fresh tracks could be reached with a little help from touring bindings and climbing skins before returning to the hut. There was still time before dusk to explore the lower reaches of the recent massive avalanche in Coire na Tulaich, behind the hut.

Some places in the hills, burns and pools, gorges, caves and the like evoke feelings that maybe there is something strange and sinister there, a place for faeries perhaps, but this was different. The unnatural looking frozen teetering blocks and ice sculptures, the dirty patches on the snow where great chunks of the hillside had been ripped apart and carried down in the torrent as if moved by huge bulldozers were enough to send shivers down the spine. It felt unreal and peculiar, particularly given how far along the horizontal the debris had travelled, like a glacier where the inanimate had recently been animated in a horrific and seemingly malevolent way… where faeries fear to tread.

Dave W arrived in good time from the south despite roadworks on the Erskine Bridge, but long delays between Spean Bridge and Fort William meant that everyone else arrived much later in the evening. An accident had closed the road and delays that last hours can only mean one thing. There is no point in being annoyed at arriving late at the hut when you know that somebody somewhere has suffered a terrible tragedy.

Plans were discussed for the following day. The avalanche forecast predicted the obvious – strong southerly winds and heavy snow did not bode well for north facing slopes and the merest glance at a map of Glen Coe will show that there are not many routes in the mountains that avoid these aspects. Still, they do exist and there are some wonderful ridge traverses to be enjoyed. One of which is the Ballachulish horseshoe and it was to here that most people headed. The description of which is taken from the Book of Climbs and was written in succession by three authors.

“Starting from the school we ascended the north easterly ridge. Maggie was being picked on for her choice of crampons and Kat had been issued some questionable crampons from Joe which were promptly removed and would have been thrown off the mountain if it hadn’t been littering. Graeme and Penny TWD were lagging behind at the start, so Jennifer Margaret took it upon herself to keep a very slow pace and have three Salbutamol inhaler stops to make them feel better.”

“After a couple of slightly scary, exposed, scrambley bits, we were soon atop the first Munro. Dropped to the col for lunch and saw ravens circling the 2nd Munro. Made sure we stayed to the left as there were some great cornices with sweeping lines.

In the meantime Shane had darted off on his own, thinking we had turned back at the earlier difficulties. However, due to the large number of people on the route, news had travelled fast along the grapevine and he was waiting for us on the 2nd Munro…”

“Which was oddly wind-free in spite of the gusts everywhere except the summit. A spot of glissading ensured a swift descent apart from a brief stop so Jake could dig Kat out of a hole. The group then split into two to manoeuvre the forestry debris strewn down the slopes. The latter group were delighted to see Dave W steaming up the track in his Land Rover to collect them. After doing our best not to muddy the immaculate interior eventually remembered to collect Jen’s car and also the two stray wanderers (Dan and Joe) who had found their way to the Clachaig pub. After beers and chocolates it was back to the pub!”

And here one of the “stray wanderers takes up the story…

“The beer fuelled enthusiasm for the Aonach Eagach had worn off when the alarms went off in the morning. That left just me and Joe. Others in the car park were discussing the relative merits of having lunch before or after donning harnesses but Dan and Joe set off in double quick time like pros! After an hour or so we were up the hill and surveying the winding ridge laid out in front. The first challenge was a circa 20m abseil with a 30m rope. All went well and off we went along the ridge, with huge cornices on the right hand side. The next challenge was a 14.9m abseil, which worked after a pendulum to a small ledge. We decided to pitch the next step up, but others decided to solo it. All was going well until his crampon fell off.

The clag now came down but the end was in sight (sort of). We descended via the beallach next to the Pap of Glen Coe. Had a well earned pint in the Clachaig.”

Dave M and Fiona climbed Beinn a Chrulaiste and enjoyed tremendous views across the glen to the Buachaille. Jenny L awoke to discover a debilitating pain in her back which prevented her from reaching the tops of the hills but bravely soldiered on, stocked up on painkillers and walked along the old military road to the Kingshouse for some warmth and refreshment.

Saturday night was a sociable one, and some musical instruments made an appearance, most notably Dave and his guitar. A bottle of chocolate flavoured red wine also appeared, though to less critical acclaim.

On Sunday a group of six went skiing at the Glen Coe resort. They enjoyed a morning of good snow and reasonable visibility before splitting into two groups. One group opted for a ski lesson, confusing the instructor from the outset by introducing themselves “Jen, Jenny, Jane” and the other group enjoyed some more sliding around on the snow before climbing the slopes to the summit of the hill, the top lifts still annoyingly buried. Let’s not forget the second “M” in MMC! Dan and Joe skinned up with their fancy gear, leaving poor Kat to struggle through through the snow with her snowboard slung across her shoulder. The weather worsened on the ascent and the three were very glad to find shelter in the lifties’ hut at the top. The subsequent descent was undertaken in whiteout conditions, which can be a surprisingly difficult undertaking. Several minor falls occurred during the descent, including one when Joe thought he was skiing forwards but in actual fact was skiing backwards. Then Dan took a spectacular tumble… Joe and Kat were so mesmerized with his slow motion cartwheeling down the slope that they collided at high speed, with Joe whacking Kat’s knee before somersaulting into the white abyss and landing on his head. A slow and careful descent to the café and a hot chocolate later and all was well with the world.

Alan and Fiona were treated to Jake’s “special” hot chocolate in his van before heading down the glen to the village for cake. Any other club antics for the day appear to have been lost in the mists of time but I’m sure we can all agree that it was a fine weekend indeed.

A wee footnote from the author of this report:

Aonach Eagach holds a special place in my heart. This was my first introduction to mountaineering when I traversed the classic ridge with my friend Trevor. I remember the day clearly, it was over 21 years ago and I was 13 years old. Trevor, who was 50 years older than me, had introduced me to the hills and we had wandered the Cheviots and the Border hills together for a couple of years. I held onto each word in awe as he told me tales of climbing on the Buachaille, the Aonach Eagach, and that even greater, rockier and more vertigious range, the mighty Cuillin. He had traversed the Aonach Eagach many times back in the day and he had attempted it once in winter, when he teamed up with a former member of one of the 1930s Everest reconnaissance expeditions that paved the way for Hillary and Tensing. The two of them had step-cut their way to the summit of Am Bodach but retreated soon after when the conditions became too difficult.

I couldn’t wait to graduate from the grassy slopes of the Borders to these classic mountains and ridges and Trevor liked the idea of retracing the steps of his youth. Thankfully my parents sacrificed their peace of mind and allowed me to take this step and in the summer of 1992 Trevor and I traversed this amazing ridge and I was hooked on mountaineering. That evening I vowed that one day I would try it in winter, and 21 and a half years later I finally did. To stand on the top of Am Bodach and look westwards across the breathtakingly, tear jerkingly beautiful crest of the ridge, glistening in the morning sunlight like the delicate frosting on a gargantuan cake was an incredible experience. And then to tiptoe along the ridge, crampons crunching into the snow, in weather and conditions better than we could have hoped for was truly wonderful. Never frustratingly difficult, never too scary or dangerous, but always interesting and demanding constant attention to every single step. This is what I had been waiting for and craving all these years and I could not have wished to be anywhere else in the world. The stuff of dreams, an unforgettable day.

Author: Joe
Photos: Kat, Dave and Dan