Edinburgh Mountaineering Club

Meet Reports 2004

Meet Reports

16 of us arrived in the usual dribs and drabs at Aite Cruinichidh bunkhouse, near Roy Bridge, with the first test being negotiation of the acute left turn from the main road on arrival from the east. This was a comfortable and well-appointed bunkhouse, with spacious bedrooms, plenty of ablution facilities, and a sauna. The whole place was pine cladded, and the only improvement might be a few cushioned seats in the kitchen/living room area. Also the one radiator wasn’t always working. However, with these minor reservations, this venue was ideal for us, and no doubt will be a popular choice for future weekends.

With a weather forecast that was set fair for the weekend, walking plans were honed to perfection during the convivial Friday evening. Our amateur flyweight pugilist Victoria alluded to her punishing training regime, 4 gym sessions a week with a punch bag and a 17 stone trainer, revealing how she can bring a man down with a single blow. Albert looked quizzical, knowing perhaps as I do that all it takes is a few choice words over a careless remark made yesterday, last week, a decade ago, makes no difference. The Druid was entertained by 4 blondes from Arran, but wisely left the best one for the dorm. For once Richard’s “its only 9%” Vinho Verde was eclipsed by Kenny’s macho 11.5% Portuguese rose. Alison, clearly counting her units (3.1 exactly) readily used up her daily allocation with an orgasmic, sorry I mean organic West Country cider choice.

Dawn was indeed set fair, with clear skies and a ground frost, but annoying amounts of clag built up during the day leading to mixed fortunes. I was lucky on the Aonachs, but Cathy, Hywel and Alison didn’t get views from nearby Corbetts Cruach Innse and Sgurr Innse. Richard broke with tradition and was off the hill in daylight. Accompanied by Iain, they caught the early morning train to Corrour, and walked out to Tulloch over the remote Graham Creag Gheanach and the Easains, an impressive endeavour in December. Fortunately, Victoria and a fully laden Fraser (in last minute preparation for his Aconcagua trip) proudly carried forward the club custom and arrived safely back from the Grey Corries well after dark. Nobody was worried beyond amber concern. Big hills ain’t they!

Kenny also went into Corrour by bike, and met a former EMC member on the platform for the train out that he hadn’t seen since his wedding day 26 years ago. No not Kenny silly! Alan and Anne’s choice was the twin peaks of Stob Coire Sgriodain and Chno Dearg on the east side of Loch Treig, while Albert and Judith headed for Glen Roy and the Corbett Beinn Iaruinn. Keith was also in Glen Roy, and chose the Corbett Carn Dearg, followed by another Corbett Carn Dearg. With boredom setting in he decided not to go for the third Carn Dearg Corbett. Our gaelic speaking ancestors were obviously having a bad day when they named these hills. Bill and Eileen had a day on the Cuillin. That’s Carn Chuilinn by Fort Augustus. Maybe they went for Teallach on Sunday? That’s Beinn, not An.

Saturday night was even more jovial, with the beer and wine flowing, mountains of pasta consumed, and Richard and Cathy fully relaxed from the sauna. Highlights included ‘Wild Bill Coppock’s’ useful tips, such as how to put on a yeti gaiter without it folding over (patent BC plc inventions inc.) and how to continue cycling with a shredded inner tube. Sorry, I lost the plot with this one but there seems to be a rubber theme. Tryptophan induced dreams were guaranteed following the usual late night cheese orgy.

The warm front that came in on Saturday night meant a change back to mild cloudy conditions. As I was away early I don’t know what the day’s choices were, but indications pointed to Glen Roy as a popular choice for those who hadn’t been there on Saturday. All in all, an excellent weekend.

Martin Hulme

The Moulin Brewery had a lot to answer for on the Saturday morning, as a few us quietly nursed pounding heads contemplating our black pudding and bacon on our breakfast plate at the Atholl Arms. It had seemed a fairly “quiet” night in terms of drinks on the Friday at the Bothy Bar but you know what it’s like, you forget how many you’ve had and tell yourself it wasn’t that many until Sat morning dawns and your wallet and head tell you that well, maybe, we did have a few after all. Even Richard looked worse than normal on the Saturday, surely completely wrong footed by the lack of Vinho Verde behind the bar and Fraser was getting in some serious training for having altitude headaches on Aconcagua.

The huge compensation was that the Saturday was a beautiful cold November day with a dusting of snow on the tops. Bill Brown had his ladders on the roof of his car evidently thinking he would need them to bridge the crevasses on the ice falls in upper Glen Tilt, sadly it wasn’t quite that cold, although you just never know when a set of ladders may come in handy. The mountain bike branch of the club headed for Fealar Lodge and a cross country, bike carry through icy rivers before hitting Glen Tilt. Kenny was apparently complaining about having to wait on Alison and Fiona all the time as he waited at the Lodge, no doubt drinking lots of tea in the process. On the way down Glen Tilt they passed the bikes of Anne and I, we were still at that point coming back from Beinn Dearg, having first been on the Corbett above the Glen when from the summit Anne pointed to a snowy peak in the distance and asked “What’s that?” Beinn Dearg I said with an uneasy feeling, “Is that a munro?” to which I replied in the affirmative while hastily looking at my watch. Being recently married and therefore always doing as I’m told (does it ever change?) we trudged off toward the distant peak as I thought about my soup and chicken getting cold. A few hours later as we stumbled across a river in the dark, Anne admitted that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea, this was mainly due to the fact that there was a possibility Anne would now miss the dinner, the speed picked up noticeably thereafter . We got back to the bikes at 6pm and with one torch between us pedalled back to the hotel where we arrived with an hour to spare before the meal, not much earlier than Hywel who had also been on Beinn Dearg and the Corbett Beinn Bhreac, like us he also got some nightriding practice in. Also like Taff we then had an hour cursing and swearing at the shower (I was also cursing the football scores) that went from arctic cold to Sahara hot, with no in between temperature available before we finally got down for dinner at the allotted 7.30pm. Other more sensible people had arrived back from various hills with time to spare and we listened enviously as people described long hot baths and nice warm showers.

As usual, people at the dinner were dressed more smartly than you would normally see on a meet and Fraser wore what is now becoming his traditional dinner meet garb of a Lowe Alpine base layer, a different one he assured us than he had worn on Beinn a`Ghlo that day but as he was in training for a 3 week trip to South America, I’m not so sure. The meal seemed to go down well with everyone before we retired back to the Bothy Bar where we sensibly steered clear of the Moulin Brewery ales.

Unlike the Saturday morning, Sunday arrived with no pounding head and also unlike Saturday, the weather was awful with freezing rain falling, making driving extremely hazardous. Most people opted for a return straight home, Richard skated up Beinn Vrackie and Owen, Fiona and a few others had a walk near Loch Orde. Anne and I went home and even managed to get back before it was dark!

Alan

This was our first visit to Glassie Farm which has superb location on the hillside above Aberfeldy. The down side of the location is that the route to the bunkhouse involves a one mile drive up a very steep forest road with only miniscule signs to point the way – obviously our navigation skills were up to par as no-one got lost.

Saturday was a day of mixed fortune – Lesley, Dennis, Owen and Christine all opted to stay near Aberfeldy and were thwarted by a mixture of stalking and road level clag. Kenny managed to complete his cycle to Amulree but also reported that it had been fairly miserable.

Four groups opted to go down Glen Lyon and were rewarded with stunning autumnal scenery and reasonable visibility for most of the day. However, plans for the Glen Lyon four were thwarted by the ‘STALKING TODAY’ notice at Invervar. Close inspection of the notice (for signs that it had been up every day for weeks) and the drawing pins (for rust) yielded no evidence and so the Glen Lyon ‘four’ had to be abandoned. Instead a variety of hills in the West of Glen Lyon and Ben Lawers range were climbed. Alan R, Alison W and Victoria were the most ambitious, completing Stuchd an Lochain, Meall Buidhe and two Corbetts as well.

Plans for Sunday were a mixture of repeats for those who didn’t manage to bag their hill on Saturday, Ben Chonzie and a massed assault on the two Corbetts (Farragon Hill and Meall Tairneachan) starting from the bunkhouse. Only half the group managed to complete both hills with Alison C complaining bitterly that Bill B was too fast.

Fiona Campbell

Meet report for Kinlochleven 8th/9th October 2004

Having booked into the Blackwater Hostel, we were (unusually) sharing this weekend with other folk (not that we’re anti-social in any way) – most of whom we never saw at all apart from one very keen gang of West Highland Way walkers who were all up and at ‘em fairly early on on Sunday morning.

We did, however, hear some of the other residents. With ear-plugs in, needless to say, I never heard a thing, but apparently some young lads, doing the WHW north to south, had a few sherberts on the Friday night and after a few more at the pub, came back to the hostel for even more. One of them then fell out of his top bunk, an ambulance was called which arrived at 4am and the injured party was then carted off to the hospital where he was kept in for “observation”. His uninjured pals were then politely asked to leave, having trashed their room.

Turning to the hills, Saturday morning was glorious – everyone was in extremely high spirits and extra sandwiches were made. Throughout the day several combinations of Mamores were climbed with Martin talking the gold medal. I’d heard him say he’d start on Sgurr Eilde Mor and “see how he got on”. Well, he got on very well as he climbed the lot. Alan and Anne had a great day on the Aonach Eagach, finishing on the Pap of Glencoe, another gang did the two Munros at Glenfinnan and I did a Corbett in Glen Etive.

Saturday night involved battling with the locals for seats in the pub and trying not to get mown down by a plethora of bikers who were in Kinlochleven for some kind of (large and pretty noisy) rally. Still, the food in the Highland Gathering was really great and the beer at the pub wasn’t bad either.

Weather held out on Sunday so yet more combinations of the Mamores were done, Grahams were climbed in Ardgour, Ballachulish and from Callert House. Bill, Eileen and Tim went off to climb Beinn a’ Bheithir where I think Eileen was hopeful of meeting an avatar – for those that don’t know, an avatar is some kind of spirit guide, or according to the dictionary “the appearance of a god in human or animal form”. Margaret, thinking someone had said aviator, was hopeful too. Not sure what the outcome was, but I suspect they were all more than likely disappointed.

Lesley Armstrong

The boat trip to Inverie was the most uneventful part of our weekend even though, when asked to steer, Cathy and Lesley, being girlies, didn't know what side to drive on. Notwithstanding Lesley's efforts to overcome the swell (not for the first time in her adult life), resulted in the author getting soaked. On arrival Hywel helped park the boat; which required transfer to a smaller vessel, whereupon, on landing, he got his arse soaked – or at least that's what the skipper said. You could see where Jerome K Jerome got the idea.

The two wettest of the company were therefore obliged to recover in The Forge while the girls dutifully and manfully took the rucksacks up the hill to the bunkhouse. It was with some surprise that we bumped into Rowan Atkinson (no – not the racist ex-manager of Man U) and Hywel summed up his full Welsh unit to ask "how's to mini then?" The response was a look that could surgically remove testicles.

Us chaps made our way back to the bunkhouse with less than full confidence in the pitch black, only to find that Bill and Eileen had got lost twice (twice?) on the journey. Anyway, us chaps were sent out on the rescue mission and found them wandering without confident direction. It was a moment when you can appreciate the origins of the expression "like a fart in a trance".

Saturday was not too wet. To start with anyway. Some hills were climbed. Richard on Ladhar Bheinn, Hywell on Ben Bhuidhe, and both nice but Tim's on Meall Buidhe. The others, including Albert and Judith and Dennis and Jenny, did low level walks in a generally westerly direction with Cathy and Lesley ending up in an organic collie love in. I'm not sure about Bill and Eileen, perhaps they just went down to the gate and back, just in case. Saturday evening was a cracking meal in The Forge.

Sunday, it f….g pissed down all day and short walks were taken with two exceptions. Ane nice but Tim (sounds like the English Broons) walked to Barrisdale, while the author went further and climbed the Graham which involved a 5m freestyle (no style) swim in the river Barrisdale. This journey, across the river, was like a triathlon without a bike. Anyway, the idiot enjoyed it to the full with the spectacular amount of water cascading off the hill living in the memory. After a shower, Judith's cooking hit the spot. Can you imagine a cross between Delia Smith and a St Bernard?! Albert can.

Sunday evening inevitably brought out the trivial pursuit and the players relaxed into adolescent conflict. Bill won, if by nothing else than volume.

At breakfast, about 8.20, we reflected on the boat taking us to Mallaig at 2pm, to be told at 8.23 that we would have to take the service ferry at 11am, to be told at 8.27 that it was cancelled and that we would be leaving at 8.50 to take a chartered boat at 9.00. Panic, but we got there, to be transferred by little boat to big enough boat. If we hadn't been soaked during the weekend, we were so now. Lesley claims to have got a click with the ferryman, who turned out to be Knoydart's social worker. A quick change in the car before coffee in the local bijou caf and a wet drive home. May I remind you of some old and well founded nautical wisdoms? If you have false teeth, don't hold the rope to a tarpaulin covering the rucksacks in your mouth while you try to grab out a rail and a druid for balance – just got the dental bill.

In conclusion, wet, windy and wonderful, but not quite a Van Morrison weekend.

Richard Hartland

As is now customary, this meet was fully booked on the first night - nothing to do with the location or advance notice that the weather would be nice. It was all down to the reputation of Jean the hostel owner's cooking.

Just for a change, the weather on Saturday morning didn't look too promising. Most people went Munro bagging in the Cairngorms, with a few heading for local Corbetts. Keith & Nicola planned to climb Creag Meagaidh but torrential rain altered their plans to that most difficult of traverses - Aviemore High Street. Gillian did her usual ascent of the cairn on Carn Ban Mor but failed to take account of the gentleman sheltering behind and nearly decapitated him! The weather on the day varied greatly according to how far East you were - Albert, Judith & Fiona had clear views and very little rain on Bynack More whereas Margaret, Owen, Gillian and Scott got wet on the Feshie ridge.

All but Gillian & Margaret were back early to ensure they didn't miss dinner. However even they curtailed their day and were back by 7pm.... Pre-dinner drinks were hosted on the lawn and accompanied by Owen's lesson in gaelic pronounciation. Not sure whether it was the cold or the gaelic that caused everyone to retreat inside to wait on the main event of the weekend. As always, Jean didn't disappoint - homemade bread, carrot, apple & cashew nut soup (recipe below), pork & prune pie with loads of veg and meringue & strawberries to finish. We collapsed contentedly on the sofas.

Sunday was looking like sunshine and showers again with the most popular hills being 'something around Drumochter' - Gillian and I enjoyed a rain free ascent of Meall na Leitreach.

Carrot, Apple and Cashew Nut Soup

• 1 lb / 450 g carrots
• 1 large onion
• 1 small potato
• 1 large cooking apple
• 2 oz / 55 g margarine
• 2 pints / 1.2 L vegetable stock
• 2 oz / 55 g broken cashew nuts
• Salt and pepper to taste

Roughly chop the vegetables and apple. Melt the margarine in a large saucepan and saute the prepared vegetables for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the remaining ingredients, bring to the boil, cover and simmer for 30 minutes until the vegetables are just tender. Allow to cool before blending in a liquidiser or food processor. Reheat to serving temperature and adjust seasonings.

Me and Tom got up Bynack More then across to Cairn Gorm in time for lunch, after which it started raining and we headed down past the restaurant (just opened, with the railway, on that day; not many customers by the look of it) and the ski tows. Spotted some Dotterels and their chicks on A'Choinneach.

Unfortunately the weather station on Cairn Gorm summit has been broken for most of the last month so their website doesn't have the wind speed on the Saturday.

We arrived in the usual dribs and drabs. Lesley opened up, having obtained the key via a cumbersome Glasgow–Edinburgh shuttle service. Kenny and Alison arrived with Kenny undertaking an interesting exercise in comparative dynamics. In the same length of time it took him to carry his gear from the car, across the bridge to the hut the contents of a tub of soup made its way from his waist down his Ron Hills into his sock. As we sat amongst Kenny's cacophany of curses, we were grateful that he hadn't backpacked in!

The location and the most beautiful of sunny Saturdays were perfect for a day on the mountain. A variety of goals were set and achieved. Anne climbed both Buachailles, scornfully dismissing a group of squaddies on the way. Iraq will be a doddle after that, lads! Alison and Kenny climbed on some Stob Coire but still seemed dissatisfied about something technical and wet. Nicola, Keith and Alison dallied in the sun on Bidean nam Bian. Keith declined the offer of sun screen to painfully find later that the hair on his head, like Kenny's tolerance of soup cartons, was wearing thin. Lesley went into the hills to the south east of Bridge of Orchy to bag another Corbett. Alan went north of Victoria Bridge to do a Corbett and Munros while the author claimed two Grahams to the south of the same Glen. Poor Victoria was hut-bound captivated by Ben Vomit (that will teach you not to drink to excess). All in all, the club had a nap hand of walking/climbing activities.

Sunday brought a wetter morning, a colder wind and a lower cloud base but the author's scant and indecipherable notes and appalling memory can't give you the details of the full range of hills climbed. He, Alison and Anne bagged Sqor na h-ulaidh and the adjacent Corbett, Meall Lighiche before retiring to the Clachaig for a pint. Regrettably, those without the Monday holiday, and those who fancied an early bath, returned home leaving the author, Lesley and Alan to enjoy a meal by the fire with a couple of the Scottish Mountaineering Club wallahs. They turned out to be quite reasonable coves and belied the reputation for detachment and elitism.

We were surprised to find a dusting of snow on the hills on Monday morning. Short days and Grahams were in order with Lesley climbing Beinn na Soine on the north side of the Oban road and the author doing Stob Breac on the south side of Loch Voil (taking advantage of not having the dog with him and the hostility to canines demonstrated by the estate). On the subject of our canine friends, why are dogs banned from Lagangarbh? Those of you thinking of taking the budgie or hamster should not get complacent as all pets are banned. I can't remember what Alan was going to do, but as he has a League championship under his belt, I don't give a monkey's (also banned).

All in all, good location, good mountains, good company and good crack. As Van Morrison would say, “Why can't it be like that all the time?”

Following on from the Easter meet at Applecross, quite a few had decided to stay up north for the week, linking up at the end of it with the meet at the Ling Hut in Torridon. We all remembered the near Mediterranean conditions we had had this time last year and were looking to repeat the experience. No such luck. For those that did stay up that week, it was a fairly wet, soggy experience for the most part. By the Monday, both pairs of boots I had with me were sodden. There were some bright spells on Thursday however, and Friday turned out to be a lovely day once the initial heavy shower of hail had passed over – I’d forgotten just how sore it was to be caught out in a dumping of hail. Was this fine weather a herald of better things to come for the weekend?

On Friday, I finished my hill, by returning round beautiful Loch Clair, convinced that folk would be standing impatiently waiting for me at the Beinn Eighe car park (I had the hut key). Thankfully, only a few had arrived before me and were still in the process of sorting out their gear, before all trooping off on the little track to the hut, totally laden down with provisions for the weekend. I, of course, seemed to have more than everyone else and had to do two trips.

The Ling Hut really is great. Once we had the shutters off the windows, the fire going and the water pump cranked up enough to boil a kettle, it was very cosy and after good food and plenty of wine, everyone was getting enthusiastic about what they would do the following morning. Well …. when I eventually stuck my head out of my sleeping bag to have a look, things didn’t look too clever. Gone were Friday’s blue skies and sunshine. Instead, grey, leaden skies looked less than promising and the temperature seemed to have slumped back in the direction of winter. Nevertheless, a trusty gang left with the intention of conquering Beinn Alligin. Gillian decided on the Corbetts behind the hut. As for me, when I left the hut, with the intention of just walking up to Coire Mhic Fhearchair, the rain was falling steadily but bearably. However, having climbed well up on the path, the rain then decided to come down in stair rods. Enough I thought. Another soggy walk with wet boots and my head down all day did not appeal, so I copped out and drove round to Sheildaig for newspapers and tablet, having decided to chill out by the fire in the hut. Good decision!

The Beinn Alligin brigade reached about 500m before being beaten back by gale force winds. The conditions were so bad that nobody realised until they got back down that Victoria had gone missing. Being small and slight she had been struggling in the wind, so concern for her safety and fervent hopes she hadn’t been blown off the hill sent everyone scurrying back up to look for her. One up for technology when Victoria rang Alison Wells, mobile to mobile, to say she was ok and had descended by a different route!

Gillian as it turned out, was the only one who managed to get up a hill that day.

Sadly, Sunday looked much about the same except for the fact that the rain had obviously been falling as snow on the high ridges. Beinn Eighe, Slioch and Liathach looked suddenly very wintry again!! As it wasn’t actually raining (a small miracle in itself), some were keen to attempt Slioch, and I understand that particular hill was in fact climbed that day. I think Bill Brown and Gillian went off Grahaming near Beinn Aliigin. One or two stayed on the Sunday night, but most opted to head for home. I was one of those people. Well… Jessie was knackered and I’d run out of dry socks.

Lesley Armstrong

Rucksack’s is always a popular meet – with an added incentive that if you arrive early, you will get a bunk bed. Late arrivals have to suffer the delights of the Alpine platform. Despite a poor weather forecast over 20 members turned up.

Saturday Morning revealed that Fraser was in the doghouse – not only had he fallen off his bunk during the night but he also slept in and missed the 8am start that the ‘Baggers’ had planned. Lazier club members were also extremely concerned that Humphrey felt the need for a 10 mile run before his planned 5 Munroe’s of the day. However we were relieved to find that he wasn’t superman after all – blisters forced him to forgoe any walking on Sunday.

The ‘Baggers’ (Alison W, Victoria, Fraser & Humphrey) managed five Munroes at Lochnagar. Al, Steph & Jennifer climbed Tolmont & Tombuidhe from Loch Callater and Keith, Nicola, Albert, Judith & myself climbed Morrone & then followed the ridge South before dropping into Glen Ey. The prize for the most unusual walk goes to Richard & Anne who managed 3 Grahams with a drive in-between each one!

Saturday night for most was spent watching the rugby in the Fyfe arms. After ‘chucking out’ time I discovered the latest EMC tradition – an enourmous cheeseboard washed down with red wine and port!

Sunday was a quieter day with most people opting for shorter walks with the weather being highly dependent on your location. There were snow showers on the Glen Shee hills but blue skies and sunshine at the Spittal.

It was back to basics for this meet. The smiddy hut is a cosy 2 roomed job but in a spectacular situation at the bottom of Glen etive.

We were all up nice and early on Saturday morning courtesy of Gillian’s half past six wake up call. Those that had not stirred (including Gillian) after ten minutes of beep, beep, beep, beep, beep……were soon awake by the dulcet and rather loud tones of K Robb “For F….s sake turn it off”. It turned out Gillian was still operating in Norwegian time after coming back from a skiing trip in Norway the previous weekend – she must have got some strange looks at work that week coming in an hour early every day.

This enabled us to give the new members a totally wrong impression of the club with an unprecedented early start. Most of us were walking before 9am in a mass attack on Ben Starav and the 2 adjoining munros. Unfortunately the cloud was down on the tops for most of the day but it was a good long winter walk, especially on the ridge traverse. There were some interesting decisions as to when crampons should be put on and taken off. At one point half of us had crampons on and smirked as the others skittered down the icy rocks whilst the crampon off brigade got their revenge by storming past us on the ice/grass combinations. There was also some tricky navigation and towards the end of the day we managed a partial descent down the wrong spur into the wrong glen. Fortunately we and the GPS realised the mistake in time. At this point Bill B was down to one eye, having lost a lens from his glasses and it seemed to have affected his judgment because he carried on much further down the wrong spur on the basis that we may as well just carry on now that we had started.

At least we got some views when the clouds cleared at about 4pm. Everyone else walked individually and Lesley and Jessie conquered Colditz Corbett. The razor wire has been removed but there are still 4 locked gates to get over.

We had a very sociable evening. The new folk commented that they could see that you would have to come on all the meets otherwise you just get talked about at the ones you miss. Are we that transparent?

We had a nice long lie on Sunday since we were back in Scottish time. It was wet, windy and miserable so anybody that headed back to Edinburgh made a good decision. Tim, Tom, Kenny and I “enjoyed” a very wet ascent of Beinn Trilleachan.

Alison Coull

It had been several years since the club last visited the bunkhouse at Corrour Station on the West Highland Line, and many of us were looking forward to it with eager anticipation...

The only way into the bunkhouse, other than by walking, is to take the train, so the club assembled on the platform at Crianlarich in time for the last (and not quite only!) train of the day on Friday evening. An hour later, having traversed Rannoch Moor in the dark, we arrived, to be welcomed to the bunkhouse by Liz, the manager.

Corrour Bunkhouse is probably best described as comfortable but cosy, consisting of 2 dorms, a small kitchen, and the old signal cabin upstairs which doubles as the eating area - one with quite some view as we discovered in the morning ...

Saturday dawned bright and sunny, and we all set off early to make the most of the day, as bad weather was supposed to be moving in from the north later on. Martin, Kenny and Alison took the train out to Tulloch, returning over 'the Easains', with Martin adding in an extra hill for good measure! Julie and Tim went on to Spean Bridge, walking back at a slightly lower level. Victoria, Fraser, Katherine and William walked out over Carn Dearg and Sgor Gaibhre, returning past the new lodge at the head of the impressively frozen Loch Ossian. Bill and Eileen followed at a slightly more measured pace. Lesley went Corbett or Graham bagging south of Loch Treig, though I'm not sure which hill it was. Finally, Cathy did Beinn Eibhinn, and Bill Brown both Beinn Eibhinn and Aonach Beag, both being in much wintrier condition than the other hills attempted, and requiring crampons for some of the day.

Corrour station has a restaurant as well as the bunkhouse, and the club descended there en masse (as did the occupants of the Youth Hostel, and a party arrived by train!) for a delicious 3 course meal (soup, venison, and apple crumble). We then retired to the bunkhouse signal cabin for what turned into a wine and cheese party ...

The weather, which had got gradually cloudier on Saturday, improved again on Sunday morning, with clearer long distance views than the day before. Kenny and Alison climbed Leum Uilleim, with Kenny following this up with Beinn na Lap for afters. He didn't quite catch up with Cathy, Lesley, Katherine or William who all settled for Beinn na Lap alone! Fraser and Victoria started out on Beinn na Lap, but continued to Chno Dearg behind, via a precipitous descent and reascent between the two which didn't sound very enjoyable. Martin headed along Loch Ossian and back over Sgor Gaibhre and Carn Dearg. While almost everyone enjoyed tea, coffee or hot chocolate at the restaurant while awaiting the train out, Julie and Tim walked out to Rannoch where unfortunately the tea shop was closed. All in all, an excellent weekend, with much better weather than expected for February!

William Ivory

Always a popular meet, 18 were signed up for this weekend at the Pottery Bunkhouse, near Laggan.

Saturday was a day from heaven. Probably one of the most beautiful winter days ever. Bright blue, cloudless skies, and not a breath of wind made the conditions overhead perfect. Underfoot the hills were absolutely plastered with snow, so climbing anything at all was going to be hard work. Because of the lack of any breeze whatsoever, the mountains were reflected perfectly in the lochs, creating a truly spectacular winter scene.

Several went off cross-country skiing near Garva Bridge, with others heading for the downhill slopes of Aonach Mor. Alison W, Fraser, Victoria, Sandra and Humphrey opted for the 3 Munros above Lochan Earba but ended up only doing two due to the very deep snow. Alan and Anne climbed Carn Liath and Stob Poite Coire Ardair from the Creag Meagaidh car park; Richard went off Grahaming just for a change, and Owen and I climbed Binnein Shuas. This we did somewhat by accident. Having seen the amount of snow we had (separately) come to the conclusion that climbing anything without a broken trail was going to be very hard. However, some incredibly kind person to whom I owe a very large drink had indeed broken a trail which Owen and I decided to follow. Even with the trail, higher up, the snow was really deep – all that could be seen of Jessie (the dog - Webmaster) at one point was the hair along her back and the tips of her ears.

From the summit, however, all the tromping was rewarded by some of the most spectacular views I have ever seen. To make things even more beautiful, when the sun started to set the sky turned the most glorious shade of crimson and gold – in fact, it looked as if someone had started an enormous fire behind the distant peaks. A wonderful day.

Quite a few took advantage of the Pottery’s outdoor hot tub and cooked away nicely in the bubbling water, apparently oblivious to the near-freezing temperatures.

Sadly, Sunday was a completely different story. As far as I know, one or two struggled up the likes of Geal-charn at Drumochter in foul conditions. I’m also pretty sure Fraser and his gang were off Munroing. A few opted to head home and another gang headed for Loch Ordie near Dunkeld with Kenny and Alison climbing Beinn Duchray (spelling?).

Lesley