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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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).
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Before sunset |
