Meet to Achnasheen, 8th–10th March, 2013
Present: Jonathan Hazell, Helen Ilieve, Peter Ilieve and Graeme Morrison.
Though the attendance had been depleted by late cancellations, this meet gave satisfying outings in hard winter conditions. Sub-zero temperatures and a strong easterly wind made it feel abnormally cold for March.
Peter and Helen were the first to reach Inver Cottage, where they strove valiantly to defrost the interior with a blazing coal fire. By the time Jonathan and Graeme arrived in the early evening, the hut had been transformed from ice-cave to mere refrigerator, and gloves could be removed at the dinner table with little risk of frostbite.
On Saturday morning Jonathan and Graeme drove to the car-park near Ling Hut and set off at 8 o’clock for the north side of Liathach. A long tramp in blustery weather took them to Coire na Caime, where the clouds had risen to disclose the splendid crags that line this remote arena. The cleft of Twisting Gully snaked upwards into the mist, and promised not only a sporting line of ascent but also some merciful shelter from the wind. On a previous visit [Ling Meet, March 2000] this gully had been thawing and conditions soft underfoot, but today the snow-ice was like concrete. Giant icicles provided thread-belays, and from the stances one could admire Baos-bheinn to the north, boldly framed by the gully walls. An ice-pitch at two-thirds height gave access to the upper reach of the gully, whence the rime-crystalled crest of Liathach was reached in the late afternoon.
The tops were now free of cloud, but the gale-force wind blew away any thoughts of traversing the ridge. Instead the ropes were quickly coiled and a slanting descent made to the road in Glen Torridon, where loomed a four-mile walk to the car. Providentially, no sooner had boots been planted on tarmac than a Glasgow University MC minibus drew to a halt. The driver Katie, having spent her day indoors writing an essay on Calvin and the Reformation, now granted salvation by offering a lift, which needless to say was accepted as grace irresistible.
Meanwhile the morning’s snow-squalls had deterred Peter and Helen from leaving the hut (and indeed from leaving their sleeping bags). In the late forenoon, however, they took the hill-path that leads from Inver east-south-east across the ridge to Scardroy Lodge in upper Strathconon, before returning to the hut in the afternoon by the same route. Once again, a welcoming fire was kindled and many a scuttle of coal piled on.
On Sunday morning Helen reported that snow was filtering through the roof to the attic sleeping-platform. Outside, the flakes were flying horizontally past the windows. Prudence indicated a swift southward retreat before the roads became blocked.
In fact the squall soon blew over, emboldening Jonathan and Graeme to drive down the road to Achnashellach, where blue skies and verdant rhododendrons supplanted the bleak monochrome world of Achnasheen. The splendid old stalkers’ path was followed into Coire Lair, and an ascent made of Sgòrr Ruadh – Jonathan’s first Munro in the Northern Highlands – by the Central Couloir. Once again, crampons rasped on the snow and barely penetrated its surface. Long before the summit was reached a foul blizzard had swept in from Beinn Liath Mhòr, freezing the eyelashes and obliterating the mountains, only to clear again perversely during the descent. As the path wound downhill into the shelter of the old pinewoods, it seemed that winter was giving way to spring
