Tough Cookie: Beinn Nan Aighenan

A favourable forecast Thursday afternoon into Friday prompted me to head for the hills and squeeze in a wee wilderness camp before the weekend proper. So, I packed enough grub, stove, sleeping bag and tent and headed north straight from work on Thursday, as I had Friday off seeing as it was my first week back. A gentle introduction back to work always helps, especially as Monday - Thursday had gone particularly well, and I zoomed up the A82 in a good mood and very much looking forward to what lay in store.

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings" John Muir

Similarly, a gentle introduction to my wee micro-adventure meant that I headed into Glen Kinglas from Forest Lodge, only as far as beautiful Loch Dochard, where I pitched ma wee wan-man tent in a bit of a hurry as the bloodthirsty midges were intent on mainlining my supply of RH Negative. Once inside and armed with a copy of The Times, I whiled away the next hour reading by torchlight - very civilised! Then, once the hungry cloud of Culicoides Impunctatis had dissipated, I got the stove fired up and tucked into a very tasty chilli from Mountain House, which was nearly as good as the pasta lasagne I'd sampled recently on my Lairig Ghru trip. Consequently, it was a very full and satisfied adventurer who climbed into his sleeping bag at the ridiculous hour of 9.00pm to get some shut-eye in preparation for the morrow. No need to set the alarm, the early dawn daylight of late summer would rouse me from slumber for the prompt start required on an epic day.

On the walk-in, at dusk

An idyllic spot! Loch Dochard.

Beinn Nan Aighenan is usually tackled from Glen Etive, as part of a smash and grab including Ben Starav et al, as other approaches involve a rather long walk-in. Makes sense really - drive all the way down the tortuous Glen Etive road and make things easy for yourself. Unfortunately, however, I wasn't in the mood for an easy ride and planned to head up Coire na Caime to the col between Glas Bheinn Mhor and Beinn Nan Aighenan, before heading in a southerly direction to the summit.

A glorious day in prospect

I woke around 6.00am. The combined efforts of dawn and a squadron of ducks undertaking take-off and landing procedures on Loch Dochard put paid to any hopes of a lie in on my super-comfy Thermarest (getting the correct level of inflation is key!). Instead, I got a brew on and scoffed an apple and cinnamon cereal bar, followed by a Fredo (chocolate in the morning, I hear you say, aghast!). However, normal nutritional rules don't apply when I'm on mountain manoeuvres, as I relish the opportunity to break free of the strictures of normality and resurrect old school rules, namely - the spirit of 'custard before main course' (lest it gets cold). It's a state of mind!

Morning has broken!

An epic day it turned out to be too, as there was no path up Coire na Caime and I found myself following the Clashgour estate's all-terrain vehicle tracks - an extremely boggy experience! In fact, I think that this corrie is the wettest place on earth! No, really! 

Additionally, the fact that, in my haste I'd forgotten to pack my gaiters, meant that my lower legs were saturated pretty much from the off. Thank goodness for Gore-Tex boots! Anyways, almost three hours later I crested the col, located a proper path and made a beeline for the summit.

Summit pic

Only half an hour later saw me summiting what proved to be a tough cookie. Elated, I strode the final few yards to the top, when something caught my eye: a laminated sheet of paper, folded and stuffed under a boulder in the summit cairn. I removed the paper to discover a rather touching tribute to a young guy who had passed away - he obviously loved the hills, and the person who laid the tribute had gone to a lot of trouble to reach this remote spot. Turns out it was his dad - made me quite emotional. Oh, and the Golden eagle circling the summit added a certain poignancy to the occasion. Wow!!!

Touching tribute

However, the only trouble with long and troublesome walk-in is that you have to walk back out again, so I turned tail and headed downhill into Coire na Torture and re-aquainted myself with deep, tussocky grass and the Tolkienesque 'Dead Marshes'. By the time I'd re-located the tent and trekked back out to Forest Lodge, I'd been on my feet for over eight hours, with a quick ten minute lunch stop.