A bike ride around Lough Caragh

Wild Glorious Kerry

On Saturday afternoon I went with Margaret to Killarney. She was going to see an open garden and I opted to go for a cycle around Lough Caragh. I set off from outside the town and headed towards Killorglin. The views to the left as you pedal along are truely magnificent. You are looking right into the Hags Glen that is enveloped by the majestic Reeks. The weather was wonderful with warm sun and little breeze and I wasn't in any great hurry so I savoured every mile. The road between Beaufort and Killorglin is pretty level and quiet so the going was easy. Soon I was in the bustling town of Killorglin and the turnoff for Lough Caragh. The road up to now had been level with a good surface but this road is more undulating and has patches that are quite rough. The landscape gets ever wilder as you progress and eventually I found myself looking across wild bogland to the western side of the Reeks.

Looking across Lough Acoose

When you turn again onto the narrow road that runs alongside Lough Caragh things get even better. Now you feel that you are truely on an adventure. Rocky bluffs on one side and the very large blue lake on the other side all adda to the drama. The lake is one of the largest in Kerry and is fully six kilometers long. It is one of the most popular for angling and today there were several boats to bee seen. Surprisingly for a lakeside road there are a couple of stiff hills to negotiate. The last one comes as a particular shock but afterwards there is an exhilerating decent into the woods where the Glencar river enters the lake. Another long gentle pull and you arrive at Lough Acoose sitting under the stunning Coomloughra Coum, topped as it is by the three highest mountains in Ireland. This was a good spot to rest awhile and enjoy a bite to eat. From here I was on the homeward stretch, well a longish stretch at 15 miles,but the first few flew by with a long gentle downhill section. Basically from here I went around the Reeks back to the other side and met Margaret at Kate Kearneys Cottage. It had been my first cycle in quite a while and I was feeling it in the legs after the near forty miles but on a day such as this it was a wonderful experience. I must get out on the bike more.

The Dingle Marathon Weekend

September 1st;

What I wonder is the definition of madness ?. Is it when you keep doing the same thing and never learn ?. Well perhaps I suffer from it or something similar.  I went and entered the Dingle Marathon even though the suffering of the final four miles of my previous (and only) marathon in The Burren was still vivid in my mind. I hadn't done any special training except for the next to last week where I feared I had done too much. Anyway I went down in the Friday evening where Petra Tolarova ( the girl I am going to the Alps with soon) cooked me a meal. Indeed such is her energy that she had travelled by train to Tralee and cycled the tough 50 Kilometers to Dingle that afternoon. We had a nice chat over a bottle of wine and afterwards I retired to my campsite for the night. I slept really poorly but still felt quite refreshed and ready in the morning. The day was ideal for the event. It was partly sunny and cloudy  and the temperature was a pleasant 18 degrees or so. I had to walk about a kilometer to the start and was joined by an effervescent man from Brittany (not France) who chatted animatedly about his love for Ireland and the Breton language. All was going well until he asked me if I was retired....Grrrr. I left him in no doubt that I was not and that I was only 50. Thankfully he spotted another victim soon after and I was left to enjoy the rest of walk in peace. Merde Tete.

The starting line was at the large car park on the seafront. I was there at 08-20 and I met Petra and we enjoyed the mounting atmosphere and excitement generated by the large crowd milling about before the start. Soon enough the 09-00 arrived and we were off. I had it in my head that I would try to run eight minute miles and I was delighted to realise when I passed the two mile mark that I was comfortably inside that pace and I felt I was running well and within my comfort limits. There was a nice atmosphere along the route with people gathered in lots of spots offering great encouragement.

Things were going pretty well and as we left Ventry behind and headed out to the rugged wild beauty of Slea Head I was enjoying myself immensely. Don't get me wrong, it was still tough going but I was feeling fairly strong and confident at this point. The scenery here is epic and thankfully the road surface is good because I spent most of my time enjoying the views. After we passed the 10 mile mark I felt the first worrying twinges of fatigue in my legs. I realised it was too early and by the time we reached Dunquin at the half way mark I was seriously considering ending my run there and settling for the Half Marathon instead. However that is not what I went there for so I stayed in the lane for the full marathon and ran on. On the hill out of the village I knew that the eight minute mile time was beyond me and I slowed right down. I hoped that this would allow me to recover and enable me to finish the run. It didn't work and things continued to be a struggle and were getting worse. Passing the 15 mile mark I was feeling lousy. My legs were tight and I felt like I would have to stop soon. I resolved to keep going and tried not to allow myself think about the eleven miles that remained and focused instead on completing the next mile.

Passing Clogher Head I felt as bleak as the landscape and by the time I approached Ballyferriter I had to resort to walking for the first time. Other runners were great and offered me words of encouragement as they went by but it was tough. I was even feeling a little cold so I ate the remaining gels I had and after a while they seemed to give me a boost and I jogged on. The miles passed painfully slowly but they passed. Eventually the crest of the final hill at Ballynana arrived and I was facing the final three miles and I felt that I would finish it. It is surely a true ism that long distance running is a psychological battle as well as a physical one and today I was really tested on both sides. While I was still exhausted physically I actually ran the last few miles well and indeed passed several others on the way. I was given a great welcome near the finishing line and I found that I had to struggle with my emotions as I neared the finish. I crossed the line in 3 hours 43 minutes 03 seconds. Not the three hours thirty I had been hoping for but this time I had overcome both my physical difficulties and perhaps more importantly the real mental challenge of enduring the final 10 miles.

I've no idea who he is but its a great picture.

 I walked about a bit until I had sufficiently recovered my composure and then joined the queue for the massage that was badly needed. The girl that spent 10 minutes trying to unknot my leg muscles did a great job and I walked out much easier than I went in. I went and enjoyed the free food and festive atmosphere near the finish line. Petra had come in while I was getting my rub down so I had missed her and wasn't able to give her the rousing reception she gave me when I did the Burren Marathon in May. I guessed that she was after returning to her accommodation to freshen up so I milled about for a little while and walked to back to the campsite to try and freshen up myself. We went for a couple of drinks that afternoon and basked in the afterglow of our achievement. It was her first marathon and she finished in 4 hours 33 minutes and had found it easier than she had expected. She was already planning more in the future. The afternoon had turned wet and neither of us had the energy for a long night out so she made me a delightful supper and I went back to my tent and a well earned nights sleep followed.

Sunday September 2nd;

Petra before the hike

In the mist

The rain of the previous night had stopped when I got up but the clouds remained stubbornly low and there was a little mist wafting in from the ocean. I wasn't overly optimistic that we would get views if we decided to go for a hike yet the prospects of a nice cliff walk or some such didn't have much appeal either. I went and collected Petra at 9am and after a brief discussion we decided to do the normal route up Mount Brandon from Cloghane. This was the best option because Petra was travelling light and hadn't brought any hiking gear. The drive over the Conner Pass lacked its normal splendour as once we went above 300 meters we were in the mist. We parked at Faha near the grotto and commenced our hike. We took it nice and easy and let our muscles get used to exercise after yesterday. Actually we were both feeling quite good.  The path is quite easy and unspectacular and we walked and talked easily about our upcoming trip to Switzerland.

Drom na Muice

Mystic Ridge looking magical

As we got higher the warming sun started to do its work and the mist started to thin. By the time we rounded the shoulder of the Faha Ridge and entered the spectacular Coum under Mount Brandon there were patches of blue sky appearing and glimpses of the wonderful north face of the mountain started to emerge from the billowing mist. It was now quite warm and we were sweating heavily by the time we reached the summit ridge. Here we emerged finally from the mist and we were treated to the most wonderful views above the clouds. We walked the final few hundred meters to the summit and there relaxed for a glorious half hour in this special place. As we sat and watched the views south towards Ballyferriter and beyond to Slea head actually cleared and to the west Brandon Peak and Gearhane stood gloriously in the sunshine.

Up in the sunshine

Happy chappies

Towards Brandon Peak

Cloghane and Benoskee beyond

Eventually we took our reluctant leave of the summit and returned to the coum. On our return we passed quite a few people who were delighted to hear that they would also be able to enjoy wonderful views when they emerged onto the ridge. The decent seemed to take a long time and the effects from yesterday were being felt. However the day was ever improving and we were in bright sunshine for the latter half of the way down. We reached our car glad to be down but very happy with our day. Indeed how could we not, having seen this most majestic mountain at its most spectacular best. We relaxed on the drive back to Tralee where Petra went to enjoy a swim/sauna before her train to Dublin. It was a great weekend of struggles and triumph with the serenity of a sunny mountain summit thrown in. Next stop Switzerland.

The Knockmealdown Mountains Run

I went with the irrepressible Kevin Ring for a run on the Knockmealdown Mountains on Sunday morning. It was a delightful morning and the view across to the Galtee Mountains soaring up from a bank of fog was wonderful. We met up at the village of Kilworth and headed off to Araglin. From here we went a couple of kilometers north and found a suitable parking spot for the car on the narrow road. We had no set distance or circuit planned but from our parking spot on the Avondu Way we decided to go as far as Knockanchuillan and take it from there.

 From our starting point under Carran Hill the first few kilometers were along delightful country lanes. We were both feeling good and as usual my biggest problem was trying to ensure that Kevin didn't speed ahead with that long easy lope of his. When the first opportunity to break onto the open mountainside arrived we took it and headed up fairly gently sloping but slippery heathery ground for the top of Farbreaga and then to Crow Hill. After this came a delightful section when we rejoined the Avondu Way and ran gently for three kilometers uphill on fine tracks to the top of Knockclugga and turned north across rough ground to Knockshanchuillinn, at 652meters the highest point so far. Feeling good we opted to continue on to the next unnamed top three kilometers further on. This was tough going as it was across boggy ground with long grass and heather. Eventually we stood at the 630meter summit and looking down at the "Vee"  and being gluttons for punishment decided to drop down and go as far as Sugarloaf Hill. This meant a steep drop of 300 meters and an even steeper climb of over 330 meters up the other side. Eventually we reached the summit at 663 meters and sat for a while and had a bite to eat and drink and enjoyed the view.

We were tired (at least I was) and quite impressed with ourselves on reaching this point in two hours five minutes. After our rest it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity  to summit the highest in the range Knockmealdown itself at 794 meters. It was a mere three and a half kilometers away and didn't look that far on the map and only required an extra 250 meters of climbing. So almost predictably off we set. Fairly soon I was beginning to regret it but the dye was cast. We had estimated that it would take an extra half hour to get there and we arrived bang on time. A quick about turn and we retraced out steps to the col and down wet boggy ground to the road. From here we opted to follow the Avondu Way back to the car. It was tough. The many kilometers we had already travelled had taken their toll and I now found it impossible to run uphill so we walked those sections and ran the flat and downhill ones. Eventually we reached the car well nigh exhausted but really pleased with our effort. A total of 36 kilometers travelled, much of it across trackless wet bog and 1600 meters of ascent in four hours forty five minutes made for the toughest run both of us had ever done and I have no doubt it was in fact (in difficulty if not distance) a mountain marathon. Perhaps a bit of overkill as a training run for the Dingle Marathon which is on next week but a worthy day out in its own right. I think that this was near to the maximum effort I am able to make now but Kevin is a different animal. I suspect that even he is not aware of his potential and I know that he is capable of super feats in the future. I suspect though that we will not rest on our laurels.

One think I have to say is that despite the hardship it was, as always, much fun to have a day out with Kevin.

Fanore Burren Half Marathon Weekend

Fanore Half Marathon

August 17^th;

What an action

Not as close as it looks

Glamping ?

Glaikit and Crabbit

I set off from work on Friday afternoon and picked up Frank and we headed to Fanore in the Burren, County Clare. This is one of my favourite places in Ireland and since I rediscovered the area last year is one of the areas I most look forward to visiting. Already in May this year I had been there and run the Ballyvaughan Marathon. That weekend I was blessed with beautiful weather and I was delighted to see that this time the weather once again looked set to behave. A very rare thing in this miserable summer (weather-wise) we have been having. We were in great spirits and when we arrived in Ailladie and looked out across the Atlantic towards the Aran Islands and across Galway Bay to the Twelve Bens we felt the holiday had begun. We parked our car and just wandered about soaking up our surroundings. There were quite a few people fishing from the ledges along the shore and we were looking forward to wetting our lines over the weekend. We set up camp and after a bite to eat went down to the shore to try our luck at fishing. I put it down to lack of practice the face that we came away empty handed after a couple of hours hard graft. Upon arriving back at the tents we discovered that another group had arrived (who had passed us going fishing as we returned complete with bottles of liquor) and that they had brought a pile of wood for a bonfire and a barbeque. This gave a pretty clear indication that a late and possibly loud party was planned so we decided to decamp from this spot and opted instead for a spot about 500meters north which although closer to the road offered the prospect of a quieter night. Re-erecting the tents didn’t take long and we enjoyed a peaceful night.

August 18^th;

I hope nobody peed into that

Oops too late Frank



Happy the end is in sight

Mo who??

What a poser/plonker

All Scotsmen are giants

We awoke to a beautiful morning with clear blue skies and the promise of a warm sun-kissed day. We enjoyed lounging about and taking in the beauty of our surroundings. Yet again I was seeing The Burren at its stupendous best. I know I have said it before but it is a place that is unique in Europe and the rugged bleakness of the landscape is offset by the abundance of wildflowers that decorate everywhere that a bit of soil manages to cling to. Even without having the excuse of the half marathon to go to, the area is well worth a visit for its own sake. We enjoyed a filling breakfast of porridge and banana and coffee and rolls to follow. Quite the feast but we had two hours to go before the 11am start so the tummy would be well settled. Frank was entered for the 10K run and he had a great assortment of pre-during-race booster gels with him. I decided to carry two gel sachets with me. We strolled about and wandered deeper into the landscape and eventually left in good time for the village of Fanore. I say village yet it is really a pub and a shop at a crossroads. There were a few people milling about when we arrived but it was again clear that there wasn’t going to be a huge turnout. I was a little disappointed at this as in my mind it is an event that should draw people from far and wide. However the advertising of it is poor and the website isn’t great so I suppose a lot of people would be put off or be drawn to other slicker events. Still there was a nice atmosphere building and the day was glorious and both Frank and I were looking forward to it.

I left Frank to his own devices and went for a warm up jog. Back again and all of a sudden the start time arrived and we were off. I set off at a strong pace and covered the first two miles in just less than fourteen minutes. I was pleased with this and felt I had time in the bank for the more difficult sections that lay ahead. The route was altered this year and instead of going along the sea shore we wound our way instead through a caravan park set in sand dunes and after a short section running along a rutted track we arrived back on the road for another mile before again heading off road and heading uphill to join the “green road” that returned to the church at Fanore bridge. By now we had gained about 300ft to attain the “green road” and returned to sea level at the church. Any illusions that we had that this was an easy run were now well and truly dispelled. From the church we turned and ran up a beautiful little road that wends its way alongside the delightful river Caher. The going was fairly steep for about a kilometre where another 200ft was gained before easing off for the next few kilometres when the route joins the Burren Way. Here the steepest part of the route arrives and over the next mile 600ft is climbed across the shoulder of Slieve Elva. This is too steep in parts for me to run so I walked a fair bit of it and ran where I could.



Braving the chill

 After all this climbing comes the reward. A long flat section along the hilltop enables one to recover and enjoy the glory of the views. I was feeling fairly good and determined to have a good go at beating my time of 1hour 53mins from last year. So when eventually I reached the road and the long descent I ran as hard as I was reasonably able all the way to the finish. I covered the last 4.38 miles in 27minutes exactly. I finished in 1hour 47minutes and in fourth place. I was welcomed back by Frank who despite a pulled hamstring had finished the 10K and really enjoyed his outing. I walked about a bit and did some stretching and made up a protein drink for myself which I find greatly aids recovery after exercise. We then wandered the couple of hundred metres down to the rocky shore with a view to having a dip in the sea. A nice rock pool was soon spotted and I gingerly braved the water. It was bloody freezing and I limited myself to standing waist deep for as long as I could bear it. Still it was good for the legs and by the time I was back at the car and changed I was feeling good and I confess basking in the afterglow of what for me was a very satisfactory effort. Soup, tea and sandwiches were supplied and well fed and rested we headed to Ballyvaughan for a few supplies (tinnies) and back to Ailladie and our campsite. Another couple of hours fishing followed (Frank caught one mackerel) and an enormous portion of pasta was enjoyed for dinner. Then we sat and chatted into the darkness sipping our beers and had a great evening.

Sunday 19^th;

Nice an easy

Not as easy

Epic...poser

Nice climbs up the cracks



Lovely arret

Yet again we awoke to another excellent morning. A little more breeze was about and it was a little cooler but after the weather we had endured this summer any dry day was a bonus. A leisurely breakfast of coffee and “KitKat” and we packed everything up and went down the road for a few hundred metres to the crag to try our hand at some climbing. With all our travelling and the rubbish weather it had been quite a while since we had done any rock climbing but there were enough climbs at the easy end of the scale to ensure we would be kept busy. I led the first one. A nice easy 10metre arret they was an easy Diff or VDiff. It was just the job to ease back into things and we were off. Another shorter (maybe 7 metres) but more difficult route followed which took a bit of figuring out and rated perhaps a Hard Severe grade. We top-roped a few more before I led another 10mtr route at Severe. We were having a blast and we indulged in a late second breakfast of porridge and feasted in the wildflower meadow at the base of the crag. Back to the climbing and we got a couple of more routes in before the increasing cloud cover decided to remind us that rain is never too far away in this part of the world. So we packed up and readied for home. We didn’t mind the interruption and were very happy with our trip. Amazing as it seems and despite knowing him for years now, this was the first time Frank and I had managed to get away for a trip. We were soon on the road home listening to some music and reminiscing and planning for another trip. It was a lovely weekend, thanks Frank.



Led up right and toproped left

Loving it

Galtee hillrun and a little bi-athlon

Sunday August 5th;

Last Sunday I went with Kevin Ring to do the Galtymor Run. This is an Irish Mountain Runners Association event. About fifty turned up for the run on a cloudy muggy day. All the recent rain ensured that the mountain (boggy at the best of times) would be really wet and slippy. The route was a tough one. Starting in the Clydagh Valley it went up over Cush, down again then a long steep pull to the summit of Galtybeg and then along to Galtymor. Then turn around and retrace your steps back to the finish. 12Kilometers and over 1300mtrs of climbing. Kevin was struggling a bit with the effects of a cold and was still with me when we reached the summit of Cush, then though he started to feel better and took off and the next time I saw him was at the finish. He finished in an excellent sixth and I was very pleased to come in fourteenth in 1hour 58mins. From Galtybeg to Galtymor and back was horrendously slippy and mucky and just staying upright was a real challenge. I did have one fall coming down towards Cush when I went head first into a roll and sprung back to my feet all in one motion. It was fun. Back to a pub for tea and sandwiches afterwards ended a nice outing. I think Kevin has got the bug and I'm sure we will do more of these events.

On Tuesday with James Moore I went for another trail run over Bweeng Mountain. This was a 10.5 mile run with about 400mtrs of accent. We had had torrential rain overnight and about half a mile of one section was completely flooded and we had to splash through nearly a foot of water. Still it was good fun and we really enjoyed it. James is really coming on in fitness. The day is not far off when I will really struggle to keep up with him.

Thursday August 9th;

I decided to take advantage of a rare beautiful summer day and went for a bike ride this afternoon. I took my trail runners with me with the intention of climbing Mushera Mor and  making a biathlon of the outing. It felt great to be out on the bike. I'm not a great one for cycling in poor weather but on a day like this with no wind and glorious warm sunshine I was really enjoying myself. I took the road to Banteer and then the big hill up into Lyre and from there up to the large and impressive wind farm above Kilcorney. Here I left my bike and set off along the "Duhallow Trail" which wend its way through the woods and way down to the road to Rylane. From here it was another big pull to the pass at the top of the "Butter Road" at 460mtrs. Off road again here and across open ground with great views to the west and back to the bike. From here it was steeply down to Nadd and another hill and home. All in all I was out just over three hours with the run taking me 1hour 15mins. It was just great to get to enjoy the outdoors in glorious weather.

Running on the Galtees and the Capagh Glen

Saturday 14th July,

 Last Saturday Kevin and myself went to the Galtee mountains for a run. We started from the car park at Glengarry Wood and ran up Greenane and along past O'Loughlans Castle and down to the col under GalteeBeg. Man the ground was boggy. We have been having a miserable summer weather wise and this was reflected in the ground underfoot. The Galtees are pretty boggy at the best of times but this day it was more akin to skating through muck and water. At O'Loughlans Castle we came to a wide bog hole and Kevin opted to try and cross the right side of it and jumped and sank a foot into the muck. Me being really clever opted for the other side and jumped into the muck and sank to above my waist. The smell was less than wholesome and the remains of several fleeces meant that I was anxious to get out as soon as possible. I wallowed to the edge and got out easily enough and continued on the run.
From the col we opted to head down and slipped and spluttered down to a conjunction of three streams where I took the opportunity to give myself a plunge in a nice pool and clean some of the muck off me. This was as you would expect pretty cold but I was glad to be rid of most of the muck and I soon warmed up when we ran on down the forestry track back to the car. Kevin put in a spurt of speed over the last few kilometers and finished a few minutes ahead but I was well happy with our outing. 17 kilometers and almost 800metres of ascent made for a good workout. Getting out and about with Kevin is always fun if a little exhausting.

Sunday 15th July,




Frank looking keen

Today I was heading to Kerry for an outing with Frank. I was delighted to get up and be greeted by wonderful blue skies and little breeze. Perhaps we might even be able to get out and do a bit of rock climbing. So I packed up all the necessary equipment and headed to the train station. Yet again the skies clouded over as I headed west and by the time I was nearing Killarney plenty rain was in evidence in the mountains. Well that put paid to any rock climbing so after we got our customary coffees we decided to have a hike in the Capagh Glen.

Bennaunmore looking lush

Sure enough by the time we were getting ready to leave the car the rain arrived so we put on our waterproofs and headed off. The whole area was looking really lush after all the rain we have had and it only added to the beauty. After entering the glen we paused to look across at the gully where Connie Looney had his accident a few years ago. It still looked black and slimy. Thankfully Con has made a full recovery now. We continued on into the ever more rugged scenery and the conversation flowed as freely as the river that was our constant companion. Further in we were delighted to see an eagle soar lazily into view above us over the slopes of Bennaunmore. We gazed in wonder at the majesty of it and felt privileged to see once again this magnificent addition to the Irish landscape.

Clear evidence of the volcanic history of the area

Where the little folk live??

We went to the back of the glen and climbed steeply from there to the saddle on top and then descended the other side to the very wet ground between Lough Crohane and Lough Nabroda. From here we made our way to the narrow wooded glen that cuts between Bennaunmore and Crohane, stopping on the way to admire the spectacular Basalt columns on the eastern side of Bennaunmore. The little glen is a magical spot that is full of moss covered boulders and a babbling stream. Soon we arrived out into the open ground at the base of the glen and returned to our car. Another lovely outing.

Climbing in the Isle of Skye 2012

Climbing in the Isle of Skye 2012

Day 1, Monday June 18^th;

After a long spring I felt the need to satisfy my wanderlust and decided to head to the Isle of Skye for a week of hiking and climbing. So, my bag packed, I boarded the 10.50 train out of Mallow and set off on the long trip for Skye. The trip is tiring. A long combination of train and ferry followed by more trains, eventually saw me board a bus on to the island at 11.30 Tuesday. Two more buses saw me north of Uig on the Trotternish peninsula and finally commencing my route at 14.00.

South of the Quiraing

Day 2, Tuesday June 19^th;

Looking back to the start with Harris and Lewis beyond

  

My plan was to do the Trotternish Ridge, on the northern part of the island, over the first couple of days. This is one of the most unique landscapes in Europe. It resembles a place where there was a slippage of one tectonic plate over another.  After so many hours traveling, my impatience finally got the better of me and I alighted from the bus at Linicro. Wow, what a joy it was to stretch the legs. I was in great spirits as I set out across the boggy ground for my first top Suidh a Mhinn. The weather was wonderful, warm, windless and blue skies. The ground underfoot was nice and solid and dry after the recent dry spell that the Highlands had enjoyed. Yet again my bag was bloody heavy. I was carrying everything I needed for the whole trip including my tent, food and clothes for the week. The initial pull to the first summit was fairly steep, and when combined with the weight of the bag, I was left in no doubt now tough the next couple of days were going to be. The wonderful vista across the blue sea to the mountainous landscape of Harris and Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, provided a good excuse to stop, rest, and enjoy the view. The entire ridge is over 30 kilometres long and involves well in excess of 2000 metres of climbing. My late start meant I would not be able to divide the outing equally, so I would have a long day tomorrow. Still I would take it as it came and enjoy the experience.

The Quaraing

The first thing I noticed was just how dry the landscape was. Where normally springs and streams would be plentiful, it was now bone dry. It was clear that I would have to take care to ensure that I had sufficient water at all times. This only added to the load, as I had to keep nearly two litres on me just in case. From my first top a long gentle decent to cross my first stream was followed by another long slog to the summit of Meall na Suiramach and my first views of the wonderful otherworldly landscape that is the Quiraing. This incredible place is one of the most spectacular spots on the entire ridge, with its huge cliffs and spires, towering above Staffin Bay. To the south the ridge itself can be seen stretching off into the distance in an almost unbroken series of fantastic cliffs and lochlans. All this is framed by the sweeping landscape below and the blue sea beyond. As if this wasn’t enough, in the distance, the Highlands could be seen stretching away, in a continuous line that promised other great days ahead.

The view from my tent.

 

By now I had done seven kilometres and over 700mtrs of ascent, so I took a well-deserved rest, and just enjoyed where I was and the day. The Quiraing is a popular spot and there were quite a few tourists about. I descended down and crossed the roadway at the col, and as I climbed the steady pull towards the top of Bioda Buidhe, I soon left the people behind. I found myself once more alone and enjoying the wilderness experience. Eventually the broad flat summit was reached and I began to think about finding a spot to camp for the night. A steep descent saw me arrive at a narrow col, with a deep  gully dropping to flatter ground below. There was no water near here so I plodded on towards the next col where there was more of a promise of water. As I neared the col I was delighted to see a gushing stream coming down from Beinn Edra. Good flat dry ground about 100mtrs away from the stream decided the issue; I had found my home for the night. It was a great relief to finally drop the bag and take off the boots and wander about unencumbered. I took my time choosing my spot to pitch the tent. I found a nice flat dry spot at the actual col itself (Bealach Uige) and set up my home. The view was stupendous, and I spent the rest of the evening in blissful solitude, enjoying one of the best wild camping experiences I ever had. I ate, sat, read, and listened to music for the evening. Later I enjoyed the changing play of light on the fantastic landscape before me. All the travel, and all the hauling of the bag, was well worth the effort. It was a joy to find myself here, in this magic spot.

Day 3, Wednesday June 20^th;

And so it continues

After walking 13 kilometres and over 900mtrs of ascent the day before I was under no illusions about the day to come. Twenty seven kilometres and around 1600mtrs of climbing lay ahead, and the bag remained heavy despite a little food having been consumed. Still I was not about to complain. I awoke to another radiant morning with blue skies, and that incredible view to sooth the soul. I lingered over my muesli and water (yum yum) and had a nice strong coffee and biscuits. Soon enough I had everything packed up and was ready for the off. The one drawback of camping in a col, is that in order to continue, you have to climb out of it. The 320mtrs pull to the summit of Beinn Edra soon got rid of any lingering cobwebs. Before me the ridge stretched for a considerable distance both north and south. I was now in the heart of it, but it was still a long way to The Storr, which would be the highest point on the ridge, and mark the beginning of the end of the route. West, lay the Outer Hebrides and east I could see a large part of the western edge of the Scottish Highlands. Further to the south the jagged pinnacles of the Cuillin could be seen, beckoning me on towards adventures for the days to come.

A panorama from the summit of The Storr

The Storr and the Old Man

The final summit on the ridge

 

Still no point in dallying as I still had a long way to go. There followed a continuous succession of ups and downs, that steadily drained the energy. Eventually, I found myself at the base of the climb up to The Storr. Here I enjoyed a bite of lunch and replenished my water supply. The slog to the top seemed endless but the rewards upon reaching the top more than made up for the effort. Here you can stand atop the huge cliffs that drop sheer for over 200mtrs and look down on the fantastical collection of rock pinnacles and protrusions, that in mist, make this a unique and haunting spot. Today it was merely breath-taking with expansive vistas drawing the eye elsewhere. I searched and searched, but could find no sign of the cave, where the paintings featured in the Prometheus documentary 😀, are to be seen. I’m beginning to doubt the veracity of it. What do you mean it was fiction 😲.

The view to Portree with the Cuillin beyond.

  

Anyway from here the end was in sight but it was still a depressingly long way to go. Portree nestles around a beautiful cove on the eastern side of the island but from here it was still a good thirteen kilometres away. Another long descent saw me arrive at Bealach Beag. I was hoping to find some water here but there was none to be had so I continued on for another couple of kilometres to Bealach Mor. Again there was no water here so I had to drop the bag and walk downhill for 500mtrs to find a source. Back again with liquids replenished I set off up the last climb on the route towards the summit of Ben Dearg over 200 punishing meters above. I was quite tired by now, and was less than delighted, to find that the final couple of kilometres before I hit the road at Achachork, were the roughest and boggiest of the whole route. Eventually I reached the road and the four remaining kilometres to the centre of the village were tough on my tired feet. It was a little disconcerting to be back in a busy bustling tourist spot, but the excellent fish and chips I enjoyed were a real treat. I didn’t have to wait long for a bus that whisked me out of town, and soon I was pitching my tent in the campsite in Sligachan. I was well tired by now, but a change of clothes and a long hot shower, went some way to restoring my wellbeing. I settled down to wait for the guy whom I had agreed to meet in order to climb the Cuillin Ridge over the following few days. He didn’t show because a misunderstanding about  the rendezvous place, and it meant that I was alone. Another aside is that the midges were absolutely awful. All you had to do was stop in the one spot for a few minutes and they would find you. Almost immediately a cloud of the vicious f##kers would envelope you. Still the site is located in a wonderful spot and the view towards the northern end of the Cuillin is breath-taking. I was looking forward to the following days.

A very healthy 27 kilometres covered and almost 1600 metres ascent. Over the two days 40 kilometres and 2500 metres ascent. The Trotternish Ridge is something of a wolf in sheep's clothing. Amazing place.

Day 4, June 21^st;

Sgurr nan Gillean from Sligachan

I had perused the guidebook and map, and decided that Sgurr nan Gillean would be a good outing. The day was good, with a high layer of cloud, that was well above the tops. My route was to ascend Sgurr Beag first to gain the ridge and then northeast to the summit. I then hoped to descend the west ridge and climb Am Basteir.  I was feeling the effects of the previous days but it was a welcome relief to have a much lighter sack to haul. My feet were also suffering the effects and I think a new pair of boots is required for these multi day excursions. I had the day long to complete the route so I set off at a leisurely pace.  I followed the path in by the Sligachan river until I was under the cliffs on the western flank of Marsco. Here I left the path and easily crossed the river. I then started the climb towards the dark gabbro slabs that rose towards Sgurr Beag. I was really looking forward to getting my hands on this famously rough rock and it didn’t disappoint. It is terribly coarse, and I imagine that anybody unfortunate enough to slide down it, would have the skin scoured from their body very quickly indeed. Still it was wonderful, and the climbing was easy, yet interesting. Nice steady progress was made and soon enough I had attained the main ridge. Here, the alpine qualities of these famous mountains, were much in evidence and brought the Aiguilles Rouges very much to mind.

Sgurr nan Gillean's elegant summit

The dramatic Sgurr na h-Uamha

Looking in the Sligachan Valley

 

To the south, Sgurr na h-Uamha provides a spectacular and fitting end to this famous ridge, but my destination lay northwest. The ridge ahead was engagingly narrow, and gradually rose towards a pleasingly elegant summit. It drew me forward, and ever more difficult and exposed scrambling had to be negotiated before I arrived at the small airy summit slab. This was a wonderful eerie and a great spot to sit and enjoy a bite to eat. To the west and south the entire range was on display, and it truly inspired. Away to the southeast, the beautiful outlier Bla Bheinn, was another attraction. Pinnacle Ridge to the north, lay in wait for another day. My descent route looked narrow and tricky, and whispered that all my cares were not yet behind me. I set off down carefully and things progressed smoothly, until I came to a crenelated narrow section, which required me to down climb a vertical chimney. There were adequate hand and footholds, so this soon passed. An easy path then led down to the bealach under Am Basteir. I was quite weary now, and I was in two minds as to whether to continue up the ridge to Am Basteir. I decided to climb it, and set on up the easy ridge. Airy but easy scrambling led to a sudden drop a little way short of the summit. I knew there was a way to avoid it and continue, but as I was quite tired, I couldn’t be bothered trying to find the route, and I returned to the col. A long descent via the Bhasteir Gorge led pleasantly back to the valley floor and the tent. I needed some supplies so I decided to catch a bus into Protree for the shops. I was just stowing away my climbing gear when I spotted the bus rounding the headland about a quarter mile away. I changed as fast as I could, and made a dash for the bus stop, only to see him drive off when I was only 100mtrs away. I decided to try hitching instead, and lo and behold, I had a drive in a couple of minutes. A short turnaround in Portree saw me back in my tent an hour later just before it started to rain. It rained for most of the night but I didn’t mind as I was after another good day.

Day 5; June 22^nd;

Camasunary bothy and Sgurr na Stri beyond

 

Today dawned cloudy but dry. I had looked at my options over the next few days, and decided to head to the southern end of the Cuillin, and camp either in Camasunary or at Lough Coruisk. This meant following the path along the river Sligachan through Glen Sligachan, then along Strath na Creitheach until you pass Loch na Creitheach and then enter Camasunary Bay. This is a well-made thirteen kilometre trail, that wends its way easily through wonderful scenery.  As you crest the little col by An t-Sron, the immaculate beauty of the bay is revealed. Framed on either side by mountains, and the islands of Egg and Rum in the distance, it is a magic spot indeed. This, coupled with the fact that the day was after clearing, and blue skies and sunshine were once again to the fore, meant I was having a great time. I crossed the grassy field from what was a fine dwelling nestling on the eastern side, to what was supposed to be a bothy on the western side. I didn’t know what this was like, but when I arrived, I was delighted to discover that it was in good condition, clean, with four bedrooms. Each of  which had raised sleeping platforms. I immediately decided to stay here for a couple of days.

I unpacked all my stuff in one of the rooms and relaxed for a bit and had a brew. I spent a little time exploring my surroundings, and as time passed, my enchantment with my new home only increased. After a while I found myself eying the splendid rocky mountain called Sgurr na Stri, which the guide book said offered a top class grade three scramble to its summit. As it was so near, it would be a shame not to have a look, so off I set. It didn’t disappoint. Even though it is only 494mtrs high, I enjoyed a wonderful scramble to its summit, that was on pure gabbro from around 200mtrs upwards. The summit, or should I say summits, are split by deep gulch. I clambered across to the western top, and there, I enjoyed a view to rival any I have ever seen. It is reputed to be the best view in Scotland, and I would not argue. From here, the entirety of the Cuillin are revealed, rising around the glistening Loch Coruisk. I sat a fair while and just soaked it in. I felt fortunate indeed to be in such a spot, on such a day. No matter what happened from here I felt that this trip could now be classed as a success. Eventually I made to return down, initially heading north, before picking my way carefully down steep ground, until I reached the river that drains Loch na Creitheach.  And so back to the bothy, where later I was joined by five young Belgian hikers who provided good company for the evening. That night I slept like a baby.

The view of Loch Coruisk and the Cuillin from Sgurr na Stri

Day 6, June 23^rd;

Today the plan was to once again attain the Cuillin Ridge. I went around the coastal path from Camasunary to Coruisk. Even though this is only four kilometres it is quite rough and is a little scrabbly in parts, and even has its own “bad step” which provides a short but airy problem. The day was unfortunately overcast and there was a constant threat of rain. The rugged terrain and seascapes still made it feel quite exotic to me, and I was once again enjoying myself immensely. It took over one and a half hours to get to the stepping stones at the outlet of Loch Coruisk, and by now the day was deteriorating yet further. The rain occasionally came, and at times, the cloud was covering the steep slabs a mere 200mtrs above sea level. After the stepping stones, I picked my way up those slabs, until I came to the flattish ground that had the wonderfully named Mad Burn, draining from An Garbh Coire. This I crossed, and made my way up the blunt nose that ascended towards Gars Bheinn. I was now in the clouds, and when I reached an easement in the gradient, I began to doubt that I was in the right area, and feared I had ventured too far to the left/south. I sat down and resolved to wait for a break in the clag before I made a decision whether to venture on or not.

A moody Gars Bheinn

 

 I had been considering climbing the spur that let directly to Sgurr a Choire Bhig, but at a grade three scramble, and considering the weather, I opted instead for the grade one route to Gars-Bheinn. Soon enough a slight clearance came, and I was able to see that I was actually right where I was supposed to be. Strange mountains in the mist and rain can be intimidating for the solo climber, and here I was beset by self-doubt, and a feeling of vulnerability. Still, I resolved to continue on, but I would not force the issue, and I would turn around when I felt I needed to. So, decision made, I headed for a steep narrow promontory, that signalled the start of the route to the summit. When I arrived here, I was very disappointed to find that the rock was Basalt, and was horribly slippery and fractured. Though the climbing was easy it felt exposed and horrible. I took the easiest route I could find, and resolved to descend easier ground a little further up, if things didn’t improve. Onward and upward I went and I soon saw that the way didn’t actually stick to the crest of the ridge, but went up a scree slope on the right. Onward ever upward and suddenly the summit headwall loomed fearsomely out of the mist. It looked desperate, and I could see no obvious way to surmount it.

 I sat and figured what to do, and looked again at the guide book. It was only a grade one scramble so there had to be an easy solution. Sure enough, the book told of a path on a ledge on the right hand side that rounded all difficulties, and allowed for easy access to the summit. This I followed and soon found myself on top. I decided to continue along the ridge to the next top Sgurr a Choire Bhig, and then decide what to do next. I went along the airy but easy ridge, and upon reaching the top, decided to retrace my steps and descend. There was no point in staying on top as there was nothing to see, and I could have been anywhere.  So, down easily I went, marvelling at the peridotite boulders that littered the corrie floor. Eventually I reached the Mad Burn, and descended a different route. This brought me directly to the wonderfully situated SMC hut at Loch na Cuilce. Back again along the coastal path, where I got my first ever sighting of a Basking Shark. The giant was about a half kilometre off shore and stayed on the surface for about ten seconds before it once again slipped from view. Eventually the bothy once again came into view, and once again, I relaxed for the evening. This evening I was joined by a tall English gentleman, who quickly got a nice fire going in the hearth. Later on, two rangy Dutch menarrived out of the gloom, who were on a flying three day visit to the island. Later still, another man arrived, who had been on a solo attempt of the ridge. His tale of  a dropped rucksack down a steep gully, had us spellbound as he relayed his epic story.

Day 7, June 24^th;

Bla Bheinn

Home sweet home

After another restful night, I awoke today to find that things were still overcast, but there seemed to be little threat of rain. I had only brought enough food for two days, and I now had only a little left. I had to make a decision on what to do for the rest of the day. If I stayed I would have to forgo dinner and breakfast, yet I was loth to climb anything with the full rucksack. I was speaking to Jim (the tall English gentleman) and he very generously gave me sufficient rice and biscuits to last me another day. This made my decision easy, and after a leisurely morning, I crossed the meadow to the base of Bla Bheinn and ascended the routh ridge. This gives a long easy hike to the south summit, but to reach the true summit, you have to overcome a very steep rocky scramble to a narrow arret, and then climb easily to the higher north summit. The cloud was again obstructing any views, but it all added to the atmosphere, and gave the gullies that rent the west face, a savage and menacing aspect. There was no point in dallying so I returned by the same route. I was back down in good time and relaxed for the rest of the evening well happy with not just todays outing but the entire trip. That evening I had a pair of German hikers from Bavaria for company.

Day 8, June 25^th;

Today I began the long journey home. Again it was cloudy but dry so after breakfast I packed up and returned to Sligachan, all the while, enjoying my last views of the majestic scenery. After a three and a half hour hike I arrived at the road at 12.30 and was making my way to the bus stop when I stuck out my thumb for an oncoming car. Lo and behold he stopped, and I enjoyed a wonderful conversation with a weathered man, who was a surveyor of the native Caledonian forests for the government. The trip to Kyle of Lochalsh flew by and I was only sorry that I had to say goodbye to this articulate and entertaining guy. So, once again I commenced the long sequence, of train, boat and  train trips that saw me arrive home 26 hours later. Tired, but well satisfied with all that had passed. I am already relishing the prospect of a return trip. It is truly one of the most beautiful and wild places in western Europe.