Geal Charn & the Water of Ailnack: A Walk In A Quiet Corner Of The Cairngorms

The Cairngorms from Geal Charn

The Dorback Estate only lies some 15 kilometres from my house yet I haven’t visited it very often. I returned after many years on a weekend when the forecast suggested fine weather, which meant the main Cairngorms and its Munros were likely to be busy. I felt like going somewhere quieter. Just how quiet it turned out to be was a surprise. I saw no-one on the hills or in the glen even at a distance. It felt very remote and very lonely, not something I expected so close to home.

My plan was to climb 821 metre Geal Charn, continue over Geal Charn Beag, descend to the Water of Caiplich and find somewhere to camp. The next day I would wander along the Ailnack ravine then back to the car along a long estate road. The first day worked out fine, the second didn’t, due to carelessness on my part, but ended up better than if I’d followed my plan.

I’d been up Geal Charn at least once before (probably twice) but that had been many years ago and I didn’t remember much about it. I’d visited the lower Ailnack ravine once before too but never the upper ravine and had no idea on a route. The map showed no paths and tight contours. Maybe I could only walk high above it. I’d find out.

One reason I’d rarely visited this area was because it’s grouse shooting country, the heather-clad hills streaked with patches of muirburn, the wildlife minimal (wiped out by fire, traps, and guns), and trees rare. However this changed for the Dorback Estate in January when it was bought by Oxygen Conservation which says “we invest directly in the acquisition of land to protect and restore natural processes” and that “with careful habitat management and land regeneration, Dorback holds vast potential to become one of the UK’s leading wildlife destinations”. This sounds positive.

Dorback Lodge

At the end of the long winding narrow road that leads to Dorback Lodge I left the car and walked down to the Dorback Burn. Above I could see the long-empty, boarded-up lodge. I forded the burn, easy to do on stones as the water was low. It hadn’t rained for many days. I was to be grateful for that later. Across the burn I came to the ruined farm of Upper Dell. Outside the derelict buildings snowdrops bloomed, planted who knows how long ago.

Snowdrops at Upper Dell

The disused lodge and derelict farm added to the feelings of remoteness and loneliness. But there were lapwings calling and I watched two pairs wheeling over the burnside meadows. In a pool near Upper Dell there were frogs and piles of frogspawn. There is life here, just not human life.

A little pool with a big name

An old track winds round the lower slopes of the hills above the Dorback Burn, climbing slowly, and passing a small pool bearing the grand title Loch an t-Sidhein Dhuibh (the Lake of the Black Fairies),  before descending gently to a stream, the Allt na H-Eirghe, where I was pleased to see many young Scots pines springing up around a few magnificent old ones. Clearly deer numbers are already low enough for this regeneration to happen, even before the new owners begin restoration work.

Regeneration

A small pale cairn marked the start of a narrow overgrown path heading up a broad ridge to Geal Charn. In places the path was very indistinct but soon reappeared as I continued directly upwards. It’s not a subtle route. It ends at a white quartzite cairn from where another intermittent narrow path leads up the final broad slopes to the summit and another white cairn which, in fact, is what Geal Charn means. The name is common in the Spey and Laggan areas, with fourteen hills bearing it, but found nowhere else (according to Peter Drummond in his excellent book Scottish Hill Names: Their origin and meaning).  

Geal Charn

There was a cool breeze on the summit and I donned my windshirt and considered gloves. For early March it was warm though. The view was excellent with a panorama of Cairngorm mountains from Ben Avon round to Cairn Gorm itself. Geal Charn is a Corbett (hill between 2500 and 3000 feet/762 and 914.4 metres) but there’s little sign many people come here. Perhaps once to tick it off on the list. The views make the ascent worthwhile and there is a sense of vastness in the huge panorama. I’m surprised it’s not more popular.

Gateway to ...... ?

Two kilometres to the south-west lay the subsidiary summit of Geal Charn Beag. Even fewer people seem to come this way. There’s no path just two lines of old fence posts with the occasional forlorn gate still standing. The gentle descent to the col between the two tops is on quartzite strewn firm ground, the barely perceptible rise to Geal Charn Beag a mass of peat hags and boggy ground. Here the fence posts helped keep me on a straight line. In wet conditions this would a soggy walk. But there’d been no rain for many days and my feet stayed dry even though I was in trail shoes. The view remained good, especially towards Beinn a’ Bhuirdh and Ben Avon as I was walking towards them.

I was aiming for a stretch of the Water of Caiplich just before it makes a right-angle bend and becomes the Water of Ailnack as the map showed a small flat area where I hoped I could camp. The fence posts continued down the steep slopes to the river. I arrived just before I needed a headlamp. The ground looked as though it would be boggy after rain but was fine for a camp now and I was soon in the tent enjoying some soup.

In camp

The evening was cloudy with a few spots of rain. There would be no photos of a star-filled sky above a glowing lamp-lit tent. Dawn came with a soft light and frost on the tent. I could see sunshine on the moors high above and soon the sun appeared, the shadowed land turned bright and sharp as the temperature soared. Grouse started calling all around.

Coffee on the way!

My camp site was a peaceful spot. Not spectacular or dramatic, just quiet and calm. The nearby stream rippled gently over its stony bed, Steep heather-clad slopes rose on either side. I sat outside in the sunshine, reluctant to pack up and move on. A second mug of coffee called. I spread the tent over some heather to speed drying. Then, slowly, I packed up.

The upper end of the Ailnack ravine

Not far from camp the steep slopes came down into the water. I followed a deer track but it soon petered out as the hillside became even steeper. I retraced my steps to another deer track that angled up the slope, avoiding the steepest ground. Soon I was high above the stream and looking ahead to the sharp bend where the Ailnack ravine began.

The Castle

I stayed on narrow deer tracks high above the Water of Ailnack. Soon the rock tower known as The Castle came into view. This stub of rock does stand out but it’s the whole ravine that’s impressive. It’s probably the finest in Scotland, a massive deep crag and scree-girt gash in the hills, a surprise amongst this rolling brown moorland. In total it runs for around eight kilometres.

The ravine

The slopes I was on were steep enough and the deer path narrow enough that I needed to concentrate on my footing. I certainly wasn’t going to stop and take my pack off and record the little video I’d thought of making. Eventually though I came to a shallow corrie with a flat floor. Snow banks ran along its back wall, the only snow I saw except in the distance on higher hills. Glad to relax I took off my pack. I’d make the video here.

The ravine winds on

I had recently bought a shooting grip for this purpose. This was its first trip. I had put it in a pack side pocket for easy access. Except it wasn’t there. I checked other pockets. I emptied out the pack. I shook out the sleeping bag. I shook out the tent. I searched every dry bag. It wasn’t there. I thought back. I knew I had it with me in camp as I’d used the detachable remote control when making a video there. And there, I realised, it must still be. Damn! I’d checked the area, as always, before leaving but must have missed it. How careless.

The snow patches

I’d only come a couple of kilometres so it wasn’t far back to camp. But my progress across the steep slopes had been slow. It would take time to go back. Looking at the map I could see that the quickest route was to go up past the snow patches then cut across the hillside and descend by a stream to the site. I could leave my pack high up and go down without it too.

So that’s what I did. The climb beside the snow patches was a little steeper in places than it had looked, at times requiring knees and elbows and grabbing heather roots and rocks. But I was soon up and on the gentle flanks of Geal Charn Beag. I left the pack, marking the spot on my phone, and set off down the little burn. It was an easier descent than I’d expected, easier in fact than following the fence posts as I’d done the day before, and I was soon down.

I searched the ground where I’d camped. Nothing. I went over to the patch of heather where I’d spread out the tent and there it was, along with my weather meter which I hadn’t even missed. On the way down the stream I’d wondered if it had still been in the tent when I took it down. Both items had been. I might have checked the ground for stray items but I hadn’t checked the tent thoroughly before taking it down. A lesson to learn.

Mini-waterfall

Relieved I wandered back up, this time noticing where I was. The little stream gully was really quite delightful. There were tiny waterfalls, golden-bottomed pools, rich green moss. In places the burn ran underground. I could hear it gurgling beneath my feet. This was far more interesting than the heather-clad hillside.

Late afternoon light

Reunited with my pack I decided going back over Geal Charn was now shorter than heading for the track I’d intended to follow. This proved a wise decision but not because of the time it took. The late afternoon light was gloriously dramatic, the Cairngorms splendid in shades of grey straked with snow. Crepuscular rays broke through the clouds. The low sun began to colour the sky. I was down the hill and on the outward track before I needed my headlamp. I was glad I’d been on the tops and not the long estate track. My lack of care had improved the day. I’ll be more careful in future though. 

Before sunset