Not Gairich

After a beautiful day in the hills on Easter Sunday, I managed to get enough reception to check the weather on Tuesday, which told me it was going to get blowy by the end of the week with some gales so I chose to attempt Gairich on Wednesday - regretting earlier decisions to delay, basically, to do it asap!

It was already dauntingly breezy by the time we got to the dam for TSK to drop us off. I got dressed into boots, gaiters & coat in the car & stopped on the dam to add waterproof trousers on top of my paramo waterproofs - not because of any moisture issues but because it was the quickest way to add warmth. TSK left us to it and we spent a pleasant hour hiking into the valley at the base of the climb. It was pleasant until my left foot slid rightwards on a rock, forcing me to slam down on the ground. The shaft of my ice axe hit me on the head and both wrists took a beating. The rest of me squelched noisily into the mud. After a quick self check I decided the best thing was to get moving to avoid feeling cold and damp.  We scurried further along the trail, descending to where a woodland provided some shelter for an early lunch break and to recollect my composure over some pre-emptive ibuprofen. It was a little sparse on wildlife but secure and warm.

The next pitch had superb views over Sunday's route and under the cloud we could see into Glen Kingie with Kjoydart beyond. The path up was easy-going. Lena found a Greenshank paddling in a tarn.  We were soon approaching the sleep rocky section which was described as having "one easy scramble". 

We ducked behind a rock to take another food shelter and cursed the knobed who had left a can of Nurishment on the hillside. We shared/clamoured over rations then went to pick up the litter. We found, somewhat soberingly, that it was a smoke flare, probably used by the Lochaber MRT to rescue some poor person who had fallen (or been blown) of the route.

Sure enough, it felt like all the wind which had been barrelling down the glen was concentrating on our single mountain. After almost being blown off my feet twice I decided to stick to the leeward side & carry my ice axe in my hand rather than on my backpack, where it was catching the wind. This turned out to be a minor stroke of genius because for the first time in around 25 years, I used my axe to claw and scratch my way up the moss, peat and rock, to avoid being blown away by the wind. Thankfully I never tested it fully but it gave me some sense of security as I bbum-slidand crawled my way up the hill. 

For a while the path got deep and sheltered but then I cheated death with a scramble over some rock bluffs. Once it was over we took to the leeward side again and slumped into the grass just to get over the adrenaline. Icicles lay scattered around us where they'd been blown out of the gullies in Tuesdays "heat". We composed ourselves and pressed on, somewhat hopeful that the worst was over, the scrambley bit was done with, but then realisation hit. There was still some distance to go and between us and the final pitch was a saddle with torrential fog pouring over it at what looked like 100 mph There wasn't any way around it. The leyward side didn't really exist or was too steep.  I decided we'd already got away with a lot. We were both scared, Lena was cold and the time said we'd been on the mountain a while and would probably be down just in time to meet TSK if we left now. 

Without any further deliberations I sent a message on my spot to say I was "OK but it was all a bit shit".  This is one of the pre-set messages on my Spot.  I let it send a while as we set off down hill. In the meantime my phone rang. I actually had service for the first time all week, so I sent a text to make a planwith TSK. 

We seemed to avoid the wind better on the descent, though stopped in again at the woodland for a wild wee and the last of our shared food. We were both warmer but still a little grumpy so I hoped food would improve the outlook. It did. Things were muttered about me chasing this & also, things were muttered about this being part of it. 

I thought about wild camping up here and Scotland's temperamental weather. I didn't think I'll ever fully camp in the open if I can help it! Then thought of all the times I have and it's been fine.

Things were also muttered about making Gairich part of a bigger expedition into Kingie, Dessary and Knoydart but I will have to see. 

I pinged the Spot to indicate we were leaving the woods and set out across the path again where the wind fell to a manageable level and we were treated to some spectacular weather light shows, although I wasn't allowed to photograph them well.  Someone realised she was on the return route to resume her throne in front of the fire.

It was a real pleasure to see the lightning conductor for the dam sticking up like a beacon for the Spanish Armada. For 500m we watched 2 people stood chatting by a car and were quite dismayed to watch them both leave, then half way across the dam we looked down to see the familiar view of the Mercu, lights on, trundling along the single track road towards out rendez-vous.  

Near the end of the dam the opposing winds ricocheting off the two sides of the valley were so intense that I could hardly make any progress across the cattle grid and for a moment I was stuck in a legless stasis, unable to step forward or back, but marching on the spot. I think the mercu broke the curse and I escaped. 

After a brief interlude photographing deer I was allowed in the van and, fatigued, I drove us back to base to dream of better, more complete, less exciting adventures to come.