I traveled back up to Scotland last night in the search for more winter mountain days. It turned out to be quite a journey. With the whole of Britain being hit by incredible winds, I came across a couple of overturned lorries on the M6, and watched another car get blown sideways off the A82 into a ditch going over Rannoch Mor. This morning seemed to be a little less intense down at sea level, so I chose to head down Glen Nevis for an assault on Mullach nan Coirean – one of the peaks in the Mamores that I haven’t yet done.
The walk in along the Allt a Choire Dheirg was a bit boggy but straight forward enough. After exiting the forrest, it was time to gain some serious height quickly up the steep eastern side of the north-east ridge. A significant amount of snow had clearly fallen in the last 24 hours, as the ground was covered in about 12 inches of wet, poorly bonded snow, which made if difficult to make progress up the steep slope at times.
As I neared the top, I became aware of unusual tracks in the snow. They looked the size and shape of footsteps but where in one line rather than two parallel lines as you’d expect for left and right feet. As I followed them uphill, they became smaller untill they disappeared completely – very odd. However, after a few minutes, I watched a chunk of snow roll past me, bouncing and getting larger as it went, roll straight past me and leaving tracks – mystery solved. The next thing I know, a 30m wide section of the slope came to life as several hundred of these ‘rolling balls’ hurtled past to my right. The westerly wind, which I was still sheltered from at this stage, was dislodging chunks of snow which were then cascading down the eastern slope. Reaching the top of the ridge may have exposed me to the wind, but it was certainly good to get off the slope!
As I progressed up the ridge, heading for the summit, the wind seemed to slowly build. I found myself dropping 10m below the ridge line, on the lee side, to stay out of the worste of it. The ridge came to an abrupt end about 400m north of the actual summit. Pacing the distance as I went, the wind continued to build and it was impossible to move purposefully in the gusts. I found myself being blown over a couple of times when even a braced rugby scrum type stance wasn’t enough to keep me on my feet. In the end, having covered 350m with only 50m to go, I was forced to make the decision to call it a day and turn around. I know that I’ve experienced 115mph winds before and, although difficult, it was at least possible to stay on my feet. Today, with the top only 50m away, it was a struggle to stay still whilst sat down and hanging on to rocks. Realising that, although I might be able to grab a meter or two of progress at a time to claw my way to the top, it could have taken an hour or more, and I would then have had to do the same back again. No mountain is worth that much risk!
So the day finished in retreat. A bit frustrating but, when all is said and done, the mountain will always be there for another day.
