A Short Wander In The Cairngorms

A frosty camp

Often when I go to the woods and hills I don’t have a particular destination in mind, no summit to reach, no trail to hike. I go just to be there, to enjoy walking and camping in a wild place. That can mean my plans, such as they are, can change according to the weather, how I’m feeling, and anything that catches my eye.

View over Glen Feshie to Creag Meagaidh on the ascent on the first day.

This was certainly the case on a recent trip to the hills on the eastern side of Glen Feshie. It began with the weather forecast, as short trips usually do. Cloud over the Cairngorms with the best chance of clear skies on the western side of the range it said. Hence Glen Feshie. The SAIS avalanche forecast, which I always check when there’s any snow on the hills (it’s useful for conditions as well)  was for low risk as the snow that fell a week or so ago had either thawed or was hard and icy. There didn’t seem enough left to justify snowshoes let alone skis but I did of course take ice axe and crampons.

Mist on the tops

As I walked up through the pine forest on the path that leads to Am Moine Mhor, the Great Moss, which is the easternmost of the three huge Cairngorm plateaux, I could see clouds hugging the rim of the snow-streaked hills. I met day walkers descending. “Cold and icy up there”, said one. I didn’t mind either of those. It was the mist I didn’t want. At the col before the final climb to the plateau I paused. The clouds looked lower on the hills ahead than earlier. Deciding camping in the mist didn’t appeal I turned from the path and started to descend into Coire Ruadh, the decision helped by the fact I was feeling the weight of my pack, this being the first time I’d carried a big load uphill for three months.

My pace slowed immediately even though I was now going downhill as opposed to uphill. That was because of the terrain. Instead of a clear path I was now descending heather and bog with hidden holes and rocks. The ground was frozen so I kept my feet dry, something I think would be impossible here in warmer temperatures. I also had a new and unexpected experience. At times my foot went ankle-deep into the ground but not into water. Indeed, on pulling my boot out each time it was dry. The frozen surface of the bog had given way, leaving just a boot-shaped hole.

Frozen bog camp

As the angle of the corrie floor eased I began looking for a spot to camp. A flat heather-free area appeared right next to the burn. The frozen ground gave slightly as I walked over it. I guessed it was a bog much of the year, and horribly midgey in summer. The forecast was for sub-zero temperatures overnight though so it wasn’t going to thaw while I was there.

Camp organised. I left the door open all night.

I was soon in the tent with the stove going. A chill breeze came down the corrie. I spent the evening, as usual when it’s dark or stormy, gazing out of the open door, reading, dozing, writing my journal, glancing at the map. By the time I fell asleep the clouds had drifted overhead.

Ice & water

I woke once to see an orange moon low in the sky and a few stars glittering. The temperature was -5.5°C. The bog certainly wouldn’t thaw. A few hours later I was awake for the day. A band of mist shrouded Glen Feshie, above it a dark pink sky. The burn rushing past just a few metres from the tent was edged with icicles and there was ice on the rocks protruding from the water.

A cold dawn

Soon I could see sunshine to the east. But the cloud stayed put on the Moine Mhor. I didn’t hurry to pack up. I was enjoying relaxing in this peaceful spot. I also hoped the clouds might shift from the higher hills. They didn’t so I struck camp and headed up the frozen boggy slopes to the summit immediately above, which lay on the spur that runs north-east from Carn Ban Mor. On the somewhat strenuous ascent I was delighted to see many young pines rising out of the heather. A forest of the future.

A forest starting

Higher up the heather became sparse and low, interspersed with areas of gravel. The walking was much easier here. Soon I reached the small cairn on the big rounded summit. On Ordnance Survey maps this has no name just a 783-metre spot height. On Harvey Cairngorms & Lochnagar British Mountain Map, my favourite Cairngorms map, it’s named as Carn Ban Beag. However the OS gives that name to the next summit along the spur. This 716-metre top isn’t named on the Harvey Map. Searching online I found that quite a few sites on Scottish mountains list the 783-metre summit as Carn Ban Mor West.  

Pt 783

Whatever the name it’s a pleasant top with excellent views. To the east the clouds still sat on the rim of the Moine Mhor. Here I was in sunshine, though it was still cold due to a keen east wind. I was soon on the move again, heading to the top that might be Carn Mor Beag. Or perhaps that was the one I was leaving. Fine hills, anyway.

Tribbles advancing! (Couldn't resist the Star Trek reference).

Coming down to the col between the two tops I was initially puzzled by small pale brown mounds covering the ground. Once I was closer I realised these were clumps of dead deer grass blown over by the wind.

Carn Mor Beag (maybe). The 783-metre summit is the dark dome in the middle distance.

Looking back from the second summit the 783-metre one was a gently curved dark dome, shadowed by clouds, with snowy Carn Ban Mor capped with mist beyond it.

Bright enough for dark glasses but the east wind kept it cold.

Descent down Coire Brocar soon had me floundering through frozen bogs and increasingly thick heather again. I reached the path with relief and was soon into the trees. I hadn’t climbed any Munros or walked very far but it had been another enjoyable trip.