In the bleak pre-Christmas midwinter, there are few folks wanting to get out into the hills, as they are all focused on work's dos, presents and such like. Especially on the shortest day of the year. I mean, what can you feasibly get done? Maybe a short, hit and run kind of day, with a modest objective, getting down just around 3pm for a festive mince pie and a low alcohol beer before the drive home?
So what if you are trying to tick off those last few pesky munros on your second round, and they are gnawing at your very soul? The weather is looking cloudy, but dry. The freezing level has lifted a little. You are stir-crazy having had a big job cancelled.
But you only have two to do in the East where the weather is OK, Carn Fhidhleir and An Sgarsoch. They entail a 42k day, with at least a cycle in along a rough track to even get close. Madness surely?
​
But maybe not?

OK, you will need everything to go your way -

1) The drive up will need to be early Sunday AM, so the roads need to be amenable to that, arriving at the Linn of Dee for 08:00 ready for first light at 08:30
2) The track needs to be free of ice....remember the last attempt to cycle to Derry Lodge in the ice with Sean? Ouch!
3) The river crossings at the Allt Dhuaidh Mor and especially the Geldie Burn need to be safe, and preferably doable in boots. 
4) The stalker's path that takes you on a long traverse towards Carn an Fhidhleir (or Ealar, as it is alternatively known), needs to be relatively free of snow drifts.
5) The snow needs to not be so deep that it makes progress on the flanks of the hill, already boggy, rough, heathery and peat hagged, nigh on impossible.
6) The cloud doesn't want to be so thick that whiteout makes the navigation on the featureless terrain more difficult, eating into the time
7) You want to be off the hill proper and back at the track by dark
8) You are fit enough to do 42k in no more than 8hrs

Surely all of those stars cannot align at once, can they?

Well, yes, they can, and did. What a day I had. There is little of interest on these two hills other that their wild and remote location, the possible views of the South West Cairngorms and big feeling of satisfaction in getting them ticked. I noted in my log that it was 13 years since I last did them, in summer conditions, and that it was a 'tough day', so I knew that I was in for a challenge.

But it all fell into place. I was perfectly prepared to turn back if necessary, despite how much effort I would have put in to get to wherever I had gotten to. 'Prudence' as always. But I am quite hill fit right now, and whilst it was indeed a slog at times, and I was really working hard, every section was met, was seen to be doable, and was 'enjoyed' with a real determination. I made it back to the bike just as it got dark, found my head-torch had managed to drain its batteries, but as you always should have I had spares, and bumped and jolted back down the track and to the car by 16:30.

Absolutely pleased as punch I am :) 

​The weather may have been a complicated set of low pressure systems of late, but up here in Scotland the last few days have benefitted from being sat plumb in the middle of one, giving light winds, some good visibility and nice crispy low temperatures. There was a good fall of snow up high on Monday night which gave us a challenge, but the conditions were too tempting to ignore.
 
Hayley, her husband Stew, Kerry and myself set off very early Monday morning for the drive North, and apart from seeing one idiot almost come off the road after swerving all over on the A9, no doubt on his phone, we had an uneventful, if very salty journey. The plan was to make use of the low temperatures by making an ascent of Am Faochagach from the A835 Ullapool road. It is a particularly boggy hill, so having the ground frozen is by far the best way to have it. It also has a challenging burn crossing over the Abhainn a'Gharbhrain. In spate, it would be nigh on impossible, in low water conditions, the boulders are slimy and well spaced, and in icy conditions, they carry a sheen of verglas that make them treacherous.
 
Stew suggested putting our crampons on, which he and I did, and with some careful route choice, got across easily enough on the boulders, using our poles to balance us, the crampons biting really well. The ladies decided otherwise, and elected to paddle or wade. It was way too cold for me to do that, and we watched amused as they stripped or rolled up trousers, and used a spare pair of socks for grip on the slimy rounded boulders. It made my feet ache just watching them! Oddly, there was a pair of old boots and also a pair of what can only be described as winkle picker shoes on the far bank, which folks must have used to cross.....but why leave them on the far bank? They were frozen solid, and useless now, but we noted them for the return just in case. They could be of use. Loki the dog just saw them as an ideal chewing opportunity.
 
Once dried and with some blood back in the feet, we then made our way steadily up the open hillside. It was predominantly frozen, and we had some trail breaking to do in some drifts, but it wasn't too arduous, the views keeping us interested.
 
All day the views just kept getting better. Back to the Fannaichs, to An Teallach looking fantastic in its winter coat, Beinn Dearg and Cona' Mheall close by. Then, as we made the summit, we could see Stac Pollaidh and particularly Suilven, distinctive and black against the white of the horizon. Finally, we were interested to see the very distinctive weather front slowly encroach from the West, and feel the light breeze veer as it encircled us, never really pushing the clearer conditions away.
 
The descent was straightforward, and after a little giggle as the ladies again splashed across, it was back to the car by night fall, and the warmth and hospitality of Ullapool.
 
The next day was forecast for hill fog all day, but Kerry and I went for two of the Inverlael munros, Meall nan Ceapraichean and Eididh nan Clach Geala. It was an icy approach up the long Glen Squaib path, and soon we got into deeper snow. I was thankful for one solitary set of footprints that had obviously made their way up Beinn Dearg the day before, and with the light wind, they had not been too erased. Otherwise, we had to take it in turns to break trail, the snow over the basalt boulders making it strenuous.
 
We had zero visibility, and challenging navigation on the complicated terrain, particularly on the descent between the two munros. It was absorbing stuff though, and always nice to be able to confirm your map and compass work with a mapping app on my phone. Of course, we were bang on track always, but it is nice to be able to check! Indeed, on reading back in my log, I see I had some challenge there the last time I did it in winter.
 
We did feel some pressure to be off the steeper, more bouldery ground by dark, and so didn't linger on any summit, there being nothing to see anyway. We worked our way down on various compass bearings to where the descent path should have been (under the snow), and eventually broke through under the cloud for an atmospheric view of An Teallach in the gloaming.
 
The head torches came out for the last hour of the descent, and finally the lights of the road came into view. A very satisfying couple of hard-earned winter munro ticks.
 
You so often question your own sanity when slogging up the A9 for such a short visit to these Northern hills, and ditto when you are battling to find your way in a whiteout. But once you are down, showered, dry clothes on had a meal and with a pint in your hand, the memories make it all worthwhile. And have done for years.

This is a link to a blog I wrote recently for Wilderness Scotland, one of the companies I regularly work for. Not a lot of mountain walking, but a variation of things to keep you interested 

​My, I hadn't realised how long it was since I had last blogged. Most lax of me! Actually, the main reason is that I have been out of the country, (in Nepal mainly), working for one of the providers that prefers that I don't blog. I have also found myself with a little free time due to a trip to New Zealand being cancelled at the last minute, so it has been a case of admin, kit cleaning/sorting, homely chores and a few walks in my beautiful locale of Stirling.
 
My daughter Alex, who as a younger child was relatively reluctant to drag herself up windy, cold hills with her persistent father, has shown a little more interest in recent months. So first we went up Ben Vane from Inveruglas, allowing me to check out the progress on the new path. Patchy is all I can say, though I suppose I shouldn't criticise a half-finished job. Alex gave her new boots a good work out, and given her relative inexperience, was fit enough to get up and down in a reasonably quick time, and enjoyed the little bit of easy scrambling near the summit
 
We also had a very pleasant couple of hours around the wonderfully named Whangie, west of Strathblane. It is a striking cleft in the rock, 100m long and up to 10m high, and was apparently caused by glacial 'plucking', whereby the glacier pulled the rock away from the main mass as it receded. You park at the Queen's View car park, and it is a boggy old walk along what would otherwise be a very nice, relatively benign path that skirts Auchineden hill to the North. I had wanted to get around to this walk for years, intrigued by the name, so Alex gave me the excuse.
 
We followed the path west, but veered upwards, and so summited the hill at 357m before the main event as it were. It was lovely clear day, with superlative views of Loch Lomond and nearby hills, the Trossachs, the carse of Stirling and south to Glasgow. Auchineden hill punches well above its weight for views on a late autumn day like that. To find the Whangie itself, you have to descend the hill, and skirt NW along a drier but more feint path, until wow! The crack appears up to the right, and is most unexpected in the grassy hillside. You make an easy scramble upwards, then enter the chasm. It is most Tolkein-esque. We had it to ourselves in the late afternoon sun, and it was easy to envisage a summer's evening picnic as the sun set on the rock of the outside of the feature. That is in striking contrast to the inner, dank chasm, and it is said many an early rock climber scuffed their boots on its flanks. I didn't fancy it myself, it looking quite gnarly and relatively unprotected, and the comments in UKC seem to back that up. Definitely worth a walk though.
 
Yesterday I visited one of my regular haunts, Ben Ledi, 879m, just above Callendar. It is a shapely hill, rising as it does pretty much straight out of the flat Carse of Stirling, and is often mistaken for its higher and more esteemed neighbours of Ben Lomond or Ben Vorlich, due to its relatively similar shape, and particularly the fact it appears larger due to its proximity to Stirling. It is a justifiably popular hill, with easy access up the newly enhanced path from the car parks just NW of the Pass of Leny. This path was once horrendously eroded, but is all the better for the work, which though obvious, is immeasurably better than the erosion.
 
I like to do a circular trip, and to avoid the crowds, the Stank glen offers a nice if occasionally boggy route. I can find no explanations of the name other than the past participle of stink, though I have never noticed anything untoward whilst there! I took the 'trade route' up from the car park, but turned right at the first forestry road to the next junction, then sharp left back on myself, which climbs along the east flank of the hill for approx. 2k. Another alternative is to follow the road through the forest lodges, then make a steeper ascent through the trees to the same point, but I find the former more pleasant, and the recent felling has opened up nice views of Loch Lubnaig and Glen Ample.
 
As the track turns sharp right, there is a now eroded path that heads up the glen as far as the loop at the head of the burn, whereby it turns back SE. Here you take a more eroded path W, over a battered stile on onto the hillside. The path here is badly eroded, and takes the form of many a rivulet and boggy section. Under the fresh, deep and drifted snow it was torture! I post-holed and toiled slowly upwards, sometimes trying to take to the snow-filled trough of the 'path', but more often trying to use the exposed ends of the bog grass to denote shallower areas. It always amuses me how the appearance of the grass seems to suggest easy, shallow snow, yet experience tells you that it is just relative. You try though. It is hard work!
 
As I gained height, the drifts got ever deeper, the prevailing wind having been NW, and me on the E aspect. There was no danger of avalanche at all due to the slope angle of course, but there was plenty of evidence of cornice build and drifting, so it was nice to 'get my eye in' for conditions on higher hills as the winter progresses. As I took one of many rests, cursing the effort, I noticed two folks happily making use of my work. It is funny how that rankles....I mean, if they weren't there, I would still have to do the work alone, so why not let them use your trail!?
 
It is so tempting to just stand and wait, and then suggest that you work together, but they were so fit and moving so well, I didn't need to, they soon caught me. At one point they paused, and I jokingly shouted for them to hurry up, so they could take their turn! It was a very nice couple from Edinburgh, Tessa and Euan, young, fit, and capable of setting a blistering pace even though they were in front. I enjoyed the relative rest at the back.
 
Actually, within a short time we made the broad ridge, where the snow was much more scoured and frozen, so their efforts were made much easier, (said the old man, jealous of their youth and vigour!). The views were grand, with the usual rimed-up fence posts to photograph. I held on to their coat tails to the top, where we parted company. I wanted a tea and butty stop, and found a sheltered scoop in the sun and out of the wind, and just soaked it all in.
 
On the descent, I chatted to a couple of folks who wanted to do the Stank descent, but who were worried about the conditions. No, it's no problem I said, wondering why they would think such a thing. Actually, I soon realised why. The Southerly 'normal' ascent route was much icier than my route up, and I suppose it was due to the slightly more exposed easterly aspect too, but I must admit I didn't expect it. We didn't need crampons, but it wouldn't have taken much more ice build to have needed them for more safe passage. It just shows how conditions can vary so in winter.
 
The rest of the descent was a joy, the contrasting views from the wintery hillside to the verdant carse towards Stirling and onwards to Edinburgh striking. You could also make out both the Firth of Forth and Clyde, shining as they were in the low sun. I say it many times, but I always feel so lucky to have such beauty and opportunity to get amongst it on my doorstep, yet be so relatively urban in Stirling.
 
A great start to the winter's walking, and I promise to blog a bit more.....honest I do ;)

​I have been busy recently with jobs on the Outer Hebrides, in Russia where I climbed Elbrus twice, and various other locations where I have been both blessed with sunshine and soaked and midged in equal proportions. Also, I finished my first West Highland Way on Sunday. Yesterday it felt like more 'business as usual' with an ascent of Schoolhouse Ridge on Beinn a'Bhethir at the Western end of Glencoe with Orion. He has only 18 munros to go now.
One of the features of walking with Orion is that he likes to bag the Tops (summits over 3000ft, but not designated Munros in Sir Hugh's Tables), and so taking in Sgorr Bhan was always on the cards. Shame we couldn't see anything due to the mist, as there are normally spectacular views from there, of Bidean in Glencoe, the Mamores, the Ben, Ardgour, Mull, Lismore etc.
The midges were persistent in the lower reaches of the ridge, and with it being damp and clammy, I was soon covered in a rather unpleasant midge paste. Ugh! They got less as we ascended, and once the scrambling started, they were obviously too fearty (Scottish for scaredy-cat) to come any higher.
Orion is not the most confident of scramblers, and a judicious confidence rope helped to calm nerves on the crux, and we both enjoyed it immensely.
After a quick clag-ridden break on the summit of Sgorr Dearg, the descent to the bealach takes no time, and we were soon ascending Sgorr Dhonuill, or Donald's Peak. It is a straightforward walk until the last few metres, where there is a choice of a rather exposed few moves onto a narrow arete, or a more enclosed chimney. I chose the latter in the wet conditions.
At the summit, we met Dave, a lone walker from England. He was having a rest having come up the scree slopes necessitated by the 'normal' route being closed due to forestry operations, and was studying his map. We passed pleasantries, and he enquired about the onward route. I advise about not descending Schoolhouse Ridge, and to go on to Beinn Bhan. I showed him on the map, and discussed his compass bearings. He didn't have one.....but don't worry, he 'had a good sense of direction, and had read all about the Wainrights'. Oh, that's alright then!!!
Orion and I decided to escort him down the steep bit onto the path, and also exchanged mobile numbers just in case. As it turned out, the cloud cleared enough both for us to see his progress, and for him to see the route....but it might not have done. I called him several times to check his progress, and as it transpired, he got down fine, and long before us.....but that is another story isn't it?!
Orion's idea was to do a full horseshoe, and descend the Western hills of the cirque, Creag Gorm. I had often thought about it, but the wiggly contours, many knolls and ups and downs and steep descent had suggested a gnarly and strenuous end to the day, so I had always thought the better of it. But, we were going well, and I allowed my natural curiosity get the better of my common hill sense and we went for it. It was hard. It was gnarly, more Knoydart than Glencoe. It was steep. It was endless ups and downs. Surprise, surprise! ;)
But, and it's a big but, the views from such a different angle were superb. We were able to 'manage' Dave from the high vantage point, and it cleared up as we toiled. What's not to like? OK, my legs weren't awfully happy having just walked 96 miles, but hey, get on with it legs, that's yer job!
Thanks to Orion for being so endlessly optimistic and great company, and for suggesting the route.....sort of.

​I haven’t put a blog up for a while. Not because I haven’t been out and about – Indeed, I have been bagging Corbetts on Arran,  cycling around the NC500 in the North of Scotland, walking in Borneo where I ascended Mount Kinabalu over 4000m, visiting ancient temples in Cambodia or just pottering on the hills.
But today I had one of those lovely early summer’s days in Glencoe with Jackie that makes Scotland so special, and I think I will let the pictures speak for themselves. We did Bidean nam Bian via the excellent NE ridge of Stob Coire nan Lochan, then Stob Coire Sgreamhach before descending the Lost Valley.

So, back to Arran for my final recce in advance of a job this weekend, and not exactly perfect conditions for complicated route-finding and slabby scrambling. 5c on the summits, rain from the off and getting heavier, the wind gradually increasing to around 35 SW, and cloud over 400m. I wanted to do the Glen Sannox round clockwise, but guidebooks were giving anything between 9 and 12 hours, so timing it with the ferries was a minor worry. Thankfully Caroline popped over the day before, so was able to meet me and we could drive to the start, a real boon.
The route has some simply excellent, airy scrambling, and I am sure had we been able to see, it would have been spectacular! We found our way easily enough onto the ridge of the sensually named 'Coich na h-Oighe', despite many of the guidebooks and trip reports suggesting it was tricky, but I doubt you ever go the same way twice. In the dry it would be a joy. The wet added a certain frisson to say the least.
The summit ridge has all sorts of variations, and it's just a case of picking the best route depending on the conditions and how brave you feel. Before long we were at the summit of North Goatfell, and starting the dodgy down-scramble. It is never really more than a very steep path, but strewn with loose rock and the weird ball-bearing like granite granules that abound on Arran, it commands care.
Then after hitting the low point at the famous Saddle, it's back up very steeply indeed to Cir Mhor. Caroline had (as ever) been concerned about her fitness, but on this relentless climb she kept a steady and more than respectable pace, and despite the murk, we made the summit in good time. Zero views maybe, but atmosphere aplenty. After a sharp break, it was find the path down to the bealach and on to the corbett of Caisteal Abhail.
Here it really started to feel serious; the wind was up, it was throwing it down, we could see nothing and it was very confusing. Despite having my GPS, I still felt I needed my trusty old compass, and using the two, we only made one short false attempt at a descent before getting back on track. Then we decided on a quick re-read of both Dan Bailey's route descriptions and Walkhighlands. Dan's mentioned scary 'grade 2/3 pinnacles', which in the cold, wet, wind, and against the clock for the ferry would be a real challenge. I was convinced that in my memory, my Andrew Webster scrambling book mentioned bypass paths, so after briefly considering an easier, more circuitous route off, we girded our loins and just went for it. Yes, there were moments, but it was actually fine until the loose, steep and committing down scramble at Ceum na Caillich, the famous Witch's Step. This had one very hard and unnerving move at the bottom. Once that was done, (very carefully!), and the bypass to the Step was found, it was plain sailing, albeit wet and windy. There was no way we were attempting the climb in these conditions, rope or not.
It was nice to get below the cloud and actually the cloud lifted briefly as we descended towards Cnochan Donna, Glen Sannox, and to some dry clothes.
8.5hrs was a very good time indeed in the conditions, and testament to some very efficient moving and fitness, so well done Caroline.
Arran is unique.
There isn't anywhere else that I can think of with this weird granular granite, and despite the erosion that can arise due to the sandy soil, the paths are good. They have been worked on by SNH to good effect, so well done to them too. It is always challenging though. As for the scrambling, the views (when you get them) and the feeling of satisfaction when the big routes are 'in the bag'....well, you need to go and give it a go.

A fine but very windy weekend working for Steven Fallon Mountain Guides on the island of Rum. For my full blog, click on - ​https://www.stevenfallon.co.uk/blog/2019-04-12-rum.html

I haven't written a blog for a while as I have been cycling a lot, but yesterday was the kind of day you feel you have to commit to the written word. I have a booking in May to take a group to Arran, and whilst I have been a few times before, I like to ensure my knowledge is 'current', and that I have walked or scrambled all the main options so I have a menu of choices for the folks to do dependent on conditions.
I have also always wanted to do the 'rounds' of the two main glens, Rosa and Sannox, and so when a relatively dry forecast was given, I made plans.
Obviously the first challenge when going to the isles is the ferry, but a 7am sailing from Ardrossan seemed to fit the bill. But there was no space for my van, or my car, or even a scooter! The idea of wrestling a bike on board, when Calmac say 'they will endeavour to fit them on, but no guarantees' meant I resigned myself to being a foot passenger. I could see there was a bus for Day 2 when I planned on Sannox, so all looked good. Now for accommodation. The bunkhouse is handy, but too dear in my opinion for what facilities it has, and the camping up Glen Rosa is no better than wild camping, and too far from the pub. I resolved to treat myself to as cheap a hotel as practicable, and found one en route to the hills, handy for dropping off my bag. It was a typically quirky, run-down but friendly island place, on which a whole blog could be written in itself, but it did serve excellent haggis, neeps and tatties, so all was forgiven...even the 9am breakfast time. 9am! In an outdoorsy environment!
So with the spring in my step that comes with a spontaneous arrangement and a good forecast, I set off up Glen Rosa. I hate walking on tarmac, so was relieved to get off the road from Brodick and onto the hill properly, passing the Glen Rosa 'campsite' en route, (it has to be seen to be believed!). It was cold, breezy and cloudy, but it promised to clear up early, and I believed them, fool that I am.
I took the wee path that cuts the corner at the Garbh Allt, and that was an error. Firstly it was overgrown and felt 'ticky', and true to form I had to brush a couple of monsters off me as I walked. Then I got to a gate with a sign that said the gorge had become dangerous, and to cross at the weir, not marked on my map. The path had obviously fallen into disuse, but I resolved to press on, and eventually came to the weir, indeed dilapidated too, with treacherous greasy rock to cross. Not nice, and I was glad it wasn't in spate - NB. Cross lower down at the bridge where the Garbh Allt meets the Rosa Water!
After that it was a brief section of well-made path before it petered off into a boggy trace as it made its way towards Coire na Cuiseig and onward towards Beinn Nuis. I paused for a snack, but the wind was cold and the clouds had yet to lift, so I was pretty miffed as I finally made the summit with poor views. As I descended though, things did start to clear, finally giving me a much better afternoon, albeit gusty and cold. Beinn Tarsuinn came next, the first Corbett, and then my first real taste of the slabby granite nature of Arran's higher hills. The path split many times, and the descent wasn't at all easy, involving a good few back-tracks and reassessments. All the time I could see the famous but challenging A'Chir ridge, but knew that was out of bounds for today, solo as I was, and with the nasty cross-wind. I could also make out the by-pass path, welcome as it was, out of the wind and in the sun, despite the height loss.
The spectacular summit of Cir Mhor was next, with simply wonderful dramatic views of the rest of the island's rocky offering all around. If it hadn't have been so cold, I would have stayed a while. I was getting a little tired by now, and I knew the descent to the Saddle was steep, so I carefully made my way down the worn path East. But it was tricky. I negotiated a steep face-in down-climb, then a loose hold-less gully. 'My, I don't like this, and I am certain my clients won't' I thought. One more hard down-climb, and I was stuck. Surely I don't need a rope?! I could see folks below, and the easy ground probably only 20m, but it was impossible. This can't be the way. After a bit more casting about to try and force the route, I realised it just wasn't justifiable solo, and with a little difficulty I climbed back up, angry and feeling foolish. The well-worn path was no doubt as a result of folks doing just as I had, and the easier, more circuitous way went off to the South for a while, before contouring back East. Back on route.
I had read about a dangerous and loose scree gully on the ascent back up from the Saddle to North Goatfell, and it was indeed unpleasant, but thankfully after some great pathwork by the NTS, not quite as bad as it could have been. Again, there were a number of dillyings and dallyings as the route wasn't obvious, but that's par for the course on such terrain, and I got to the top without too much time wasted. There the wind hit me again, and despite the late afternoon sunshine, it was raw. The views back over Glen Sannox were excellent, and the rocky towers between here and Goatfell proper begged to be scrambled. I did the first one, but in the wind, elected on the path for the rest of it - Next time.
Goatfell was deserted, it being gone 4pm by now, but I passed a few parties of occasional walkers on the descent, hobbling and dawdling with various sore knees and feet. I was footsore too, but able to plod on through years of self-abuse ;)
I could see Brodick and the incoming 5pm ferry, and knew I would need to rush on tomorrow's route. Being able to see it all made it seem all the further, but it bloody well was - As I said, I hate road walks, and the last few of my 27k were on tarmac, and my feet were singing. The route took 10 hours, and although I had not hung around much, the extra traipse from Brodick and back told on me. I grabbed a pint at the Wineport (to fortify myself you'll understand ;), and was back in the hotel and showered by 7pm.
So, having showered, eaten and packed for tomorrow, let's read the route description in detail.....what? 9-12 hours? Another 1700m of ascent?. OK, a toughie. What about the bus and ferry times? That's easy, not possible. Forecast? A nice day, eventually, but cold and windy after a wet start. Y'know, some days aren't meant to happen.
​As Arnie said, 'I'll be back'.

This winter has been late in coming this year in Scotland, but the last week has been a lot more like it. The only problem is that the wind is shifting the snow about as usual, and your route choices have to reflect the extra effort that is going to be required, along with the avalanche risk. Chris had various desires in terms of peaks to attempt, and we finally settled on Bidean nam Bian after a good few emails and phone calls, reviewing both the weather and avalanche forecasts . It would normally be linked with Stob Coire Sgreamhach, but I severely doubted whether the final slopes to the bealach above the Coire Gabhail (or Lost Valley)  would be safe on either ascent or descent.
Tackling Bidean from the A82, up the Coire nan Lochan means that you are on a succession of ridges, safe from avalanche, as long as you assess the approaches correctly, and although we knew that it would be hard work in the drifts, it seemed the best option.
And what a choice! The forecast had been for heavy snow showers in the morning, with a possibility of a clearing later, but coupled with strong Westerly winds. We knew we would be sheltered in the coire, but expected a battering on the ridges. What we actually got was almost no snow, and a wonderful clearing as we summited Stob Coire nan Lochan. It was sublime. The ascent was indeed hard work, but Chris dealt with little scrambles and climbing sections with aplomb, and indeed, although you need to wade a lot, some of the bouldery sections were easier than in normal 'summer' conditions, allowing us to stick to the crest for some exciting little sections.
We couldn't pause long at the summits, as it was cold of course, but we did wait long enough to get our appreciation from a following Plas y Brenin group for our trail breaking! We asked hopefully if they intended on going on to Bidean, but to no avail, so we'd be breaking trail ourselves again...at least we'd have their trail for the descent. I shared a conversation with their guide though, and we both expressed dismay and disbelief that we had seen a party trying to ascend the steep head-wall of the Lost Valley. Had they not considered the avalanche forecast? We never saw them or evidence of their passing again all day, so can only assume they either backed off of went a route with which I am not familiar. I can only hope they didn't come to harm, but am incredulous that they would choose such a route on such a day.
The onward ascent of Bidean looked brutal, and it was. Deep drifts, cornices, and no possibility of course of seeing the path, let alone using it! The only safe way was straight up the crest, not normally done in summer due to the looseness of the rocks and awkward boulders, but today, feeling your axe strike a rock under the deep snow was reassuring, knowing your were above terra firma. The final section usually involves a short flatter section above Church Door Buttress, where a pause can be taken before the last pull. Not this time though - It was a huge snow pillow, heavens knows how deep, and I had to wade though it. Chris held back, as we were keen to not weight the snow too much, cornices breaking off at 45 degrees as they do. Eventually, sweating profusely, I was across, and Chris followed on, still finding it a toil. Then it was a relatively scoured section to the top, and some simply stunning views. I will let the pictures speak for themselves.
The descent was actually quite easy, still being able to follow our trail most of the way, and we wearily slogged back up to the summit of our first peak. This time we turned West, and from then on were able to use the Brenin group's trail, which made life a lot easier. The views continued to be a joy, the light constantly changing, and we almost tired of snapping pictures, as we needed to press on. We retained our crampons well down the path, and had a smile as we spotted slip after slip in the snow on the path...there seems to be a kind of snobbish machismo from some folks, (especially hard-core climbers) to get your crampons off asap, in a kind of show of skill and technique in descent. Me, I am quite happy to descend steadily and securely, finally taking them off when there was more rock than ice. And of course never once slipping :)
​We got to the cars at 17:30, so a full 8.5hrs to do the route. We hadn't hung about, and our legs knew they had had a day out, but it was a day to remember. Let's hope the winter keeps delivering days such as these......