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January 2004 Other Articles
A Remote Munro? - Len Stubs
"Ladhar Bheinn, in Knoydart." - That was the answer which John
Wilding once gave to the question, "Which high ground in the British
Isles, in your opinion, most resembles a true mountain?" His choice,
I was to find, was truly admirable. No doubt several factors
influenced this very wise and experienced mountaineer's opinion - the
shape of the mountain, the terrain, the wildness of the upper
corries, the near and distant approaches to the mountain, and its
superb setting in an area of fine peak and loch scenery.
For three years Ladhar Bheinn was No. 1 on my list. During the first
year an injury to a member of my party prevented an ascent. During
the second year foul weather and shortage of time foiled my efforts.
On the third approach, in September 1959, I was so determined to
succeed in collecting this munro that I was quite prepared to devote
a full fortnight's holiday to doing so. As events transpired a
fortnight was not necessary. Nevertheless a hazard in the shape of
some deer-stalking gentry did present itself, we, Eric (K.M.C.) and
I, being hounded out of our delightful camp-site on the western shore
of Loch Quoich by such a party and told in no uncertain fashion to
leave the district.
Very early the following morning we did so, but not in the direction
the gentry had prescribed. We drove down a very exciting and narrow
road through some amazing gorge scenery to Kinloch Hourn, the head of
Loch Hourn, where the road comes to an end. The loch scenery
hereabouts is comparable to any fjord scenery which I have seen
during my visits to Norway; steep hillsides, pine and larch
plantations, cataracts of white foaming water tumbling down the
cliffs, and wild bird life and waterfowl appeared to be in abundance.
We left the car at about 9:00a.m. and walked along a built-up
footpath immediately above the southern shore of the loch. It was a
delightful morning, and the heavy dew gave evidence of the sort of
day we might expect later. There was a profusion of natural elements
to converse about as we wandered through heather and bracken past the
cottages at Skiary and Runival towards Barrisdale. Barrisdale
I suppose could be one of the largest communities in these islands
which is not troubled with the motor car, for there is no road to or
from this hamlet, the usual approach being by way of the loch. We
halted at the lodge and entered into conversation with a student from
Liverpool University who was spending his entire vacation working
there as a laborer; solitude he sought and solitude he had gained in
this superb setting.
From here Eric and I ascended by a good footpath to a col above Mam
Barrisdale. Unfortunately, a mixture of the terrific heat of the day,
the glorious scenery, and a desire to bathe in many of the clear
pools now over-weakened Eric's determination to ascend the mountain,
leaving a solitary walker to wander along the ridge towards the gable
end of the Ladhar Bheinn massif, which is Aonach Sgoilte. This
obstacle I turned on the south-eastern flank by scrambling over some
vegetated slabby rock; when my attention was not occupied in
searching for firm holds I gazed across some amazingly desolate
country towards Loch Nevis and Loch Morar. After some 400ft of
scrambling I emerged on a grassy summit ridge which overlooked the
wild and rocky Coire Dhorrcail, perhaps the principal feature of the
mountain. I was highly delighted to reach this fine summit and
secretly glad to have it to myself on such a lovely day. As I was
most uncomfortable in my sweat-laden shirt I stripped naked and lay
down to admire the surrounding feast of peaks, lochs, coast, and
island scenery.
Sleep may have intervened: I do not know. Somewhat chilled, I
bestirred myself, dressed, and made off on to the ridge Druim a'
Choire Odhair, which is comparable to Striding Edge. The tremendous
buttresses and walls at the head of Coire Dhorrcail immediately below
the main summit of Ladhar Bheinn can be observed at their finest as
one descends this ridge. I feel sure this would be a veritable heaven
for the rock-climber, if only it was much easier of access. The lower
reaches of the ridge deteriorate into some really hard going, and I
was thankful to gain a path which though overgrown with heather was
preferable to knee-high turk's heads. I strolled along to Barrisdale
Lodge in a fool's paradise, thinking I should be able to board the
5pm. launch for the head of the loch; I was dumbfounded to discover
that the time was 7pm. and that there were no further sailings that
day.
The prospect of seven miles of rough going, only 1½ hours of
daylight, no torch to resort to, and no food - I had had none since
noon - was one that any true Bleaklow hound would whoop with delight
at. A pace comparable to that of a five-hour Marsden - Edale broke
the back of this loch-side tramp. In almost complete darkness I
rejoined Eric, waiting with a good solid brew of tea - a wonderful
finish to a wonderful mountain day.
January Newsletter Index.
Copyright © 2003 Karabiner Mountaineering Club
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