What a choice! No Munros, or one on Skye, or seven in Glen Sheil. Feeling superfit only four of us were unable to resist the challenge, and their early start for Skye (except Louise) became our even earlier start to the bottom of Glen Shiel. Despite the received wisdom that the ridge is best from East to West, logistic reasons forced us to walk West to East, leaving the car to be collected at the end of the day.
Having driven ten miles we began to realise the magnitude of our undertaking. We knew we would have to pass Cluanie Lodge before retürning to it. And seven Munros and two lesser peaks in the way.
The path up to the ridge was very clearly defined with an overabundance of cairns all the way to the snowline. Then it “follow the footprints”, which went everywhere. The snow was very icy, and very early on lain fell and gained a very bloody thumb. I had crampons but they weren’t essential and since no-one else had any we all managed without. There were moments that felt quite precarious, but one assumed that an ice-axe would bite the snow very effectively.
The ridge was attained in ninety minutes and fatigue was already setting in – except for Mark who kept plodding on. Before the first summit the value of the ice-axes was proved on an icy, rocky ascent which left one’s hands feeling rather cold. From below it didn’t look difficult, as usual, so the w h i e n o r photographs won’t really capture the adventure. Had Mr Graydon succeeded in his refusal to take an ice-axe our Munro tally could well have been zero.
But at 11.00 exactly we reached our first target. As the cliche would have it, the remaining six stretched out in front of us for miles and miles. In fact, they didn’t. We could only see a couple, one below 3000ft and one above (Sgurr Lochain). This blocked our view any further. It also looked very intimidating.
Descending to the first col we had to decide whether to “do the ridge” or “do the Munros”. Tim decided for us that Munros don’t matter, but the aesthetics of a ridge walk do. Slogging up the 2900ft peak I began to regret aesthetics, but kept on going.
The snow was hard and care was needed at all times. Tim slipped and realised that his ice-axe was the only way to stop. The axe stopped him instantly. The descent from N° 2 revealed some superb cornices, and cries of “Don’t go any nearer the edge – I can see a hole below you”.
Mark just kept plodding on.
The ridge continued. Fatigue was fought off. There was a narrow stretch – let’s keep to the crest. The views were wide and the sun was hot. Still we kept going.
After the scrambling Mark decided he had woken up (2.30pm), on Munro Nº5! The walking got easier, though glissading down from summits was still ruled out by the cliffs on the North side.
4.00pm. Celebrations on the seventh Munro. It had been easy. Now we had a clear view of the lodge, though it was still a long walk round.
The descent down was fun. Standing glissade at some speed, rapidly changing into bum-slides, or head-over-heels, ice-axe brakes. Very soon we reached the road. A slabbing on the way back and we were at the lodge by 5.00. Those of us that still felt fit and alive then took Louise and Lizzy to the pub (at a trot), where they were refused entry, but lain and I were allowed in. The heat of their coal-fire made my face sting. None of us had realised the . effect of the sun.
Dave G.