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 ;)