All roads lead to Dalwhinnie. With all of Scotland to choose from, I wonder why I am always drawn back here? A friend of mine had tipped me off to a campsite which he’d seen while on one of his many TGO challenges, the coast to coast Scottish walk organised by TGO magazine. The campsite is only a few miles from the road, and it’s a long drive for such a short walk, so when a mate fancied a camp without a long walk in I thought this would be ideal. There’s plenty of things to do in the area anyway, so the camp could just be a base or an overnight stopover. Sadly my mate had to pull out the night before, so I had a long drive up the A9 on my own. My car had been in and out of the garage over the previous few weeks, so I took it easy on the drive up, managing to bypass some of the queuing traffic outside Perth. The southbound traffic tailed back for miles, and I made a mental note to try and find a detour on the return journey.
I thought it would be nice to have a wee drop of Dalwhinnie Malt Whisky after dinner, so called in to the distillery to pick up a miniature, as I didn’t fancy hauling in a whole bottle for a single dram. Oddly, they didn’t sell them, and I left dry. I do plan to go back for another whisky tasting tour though.
I scoped out the Laggan road for my parking spot for the nights camp, before doubling back to Dalwhinnie and Glen Truim and parking up for my, by now later than planned, afternoon walk. From the A9, Am Binnean and Cruben Beag are really distinctive, gnarly little hills which contrast with the larger, rounder summits which surround them. They are the kind of hill you take note of while driving past them to take in their big brothers, but never seem to get round to actually climbing. Today would set that right. The ascent was quick, following an estate access track up through a series of grouse butts, which then swung around to the north east and led past a mobile phone mast, where I ditched the track and headed across thankfully dry moss and heather, to a high stile which put me among a plantation of native trees on the lower slopes of Am Binnean. The ground is hard going here though, and I had to take care traversing the ground here, riddled with ankle traps among the tussocks. After a short clamber, I was on top of the 547m high Am Binnean, and it was well worth effort, with great views back towards Loch Ericht, down to Ben Alder.
The descent towards Cruben Mor was steep, though short, and I was soon picking my way through more tussocks, through light and spacious trees, before climbing again towards the next top. The young woodland here has only become re-established with the aid of deer fencing, and there was another deer fence for me to surmount before gaining the summit. It always mystifies me why estates do not consider the natural desire lines of the hillwalker, and put in stiles in places where they are most likely to be used. At this point I came to a corner of the fence, with no sign of any stile or gate, and no helpful signage to indicate where one might be found. I did however find a few sections which had fallen to the ground, and I was able to cross this with ease. Soon I was at the trig point, and the views were fantastic. Creag Dubh and Newtonmore to the north, Loch Etteridge to the north-east, and off to the south-west was Loch Caoldair, my intended campsite for the night. I noted on the map that there was a Jacobite hiding place marked across the Spey on the slopes of Creag Dubh – Cluny’s Cage, and made a mental note of it. If I had time tomorrow I would try and pay it a visit.
I retraced my steps back down, before skirting through the woodland on the north side of Am Binnean to regain the track. It would have been nice to add in the three hills on the other side of the plain, which would have made a nice circuit, but time was against me. That would be a fuller day’s walk, rather than this shortened afternoon ramble. I descended to the car, through grumbling grouse, and chattering lapwing, before driving off for the evening’s walk to camp.
Just off the A899, a few metres beyond the SMC’s Raeburn Hut, there’s a small stone bridge which crosses the Allt Ruadh, and adjacent to this there is parking for a few vehicles. Mine was the sole occupant, and I took my time readjusting my gear, switching from daysack to larger backpack. I was trying out a new rucksack, the Osprey Aether Pro 70l, and this was the first time I’d be using it with a proper load, so I spent some time organising it. At 70l, it’s a huge capacity, and I still managed to fill it. Given that it was only around a 3km I didn’t mind carrying a few comforts. The track is quite clear to begin with, fording the burn at one point (thankfully low at this time), and after clearing the trees moves on to open moorland. The path soon becomes more challenging, and by the time I approached Loch Caoldair it was more aspirational than well defined.
The ground here was thick bracken and tussocky heather, ideal for ticks. The air was thick with flies and midges, and my first act was to switch on my Thermacell, allowing it to build up protection while I put up the tent. It was quite effective, as I was able to sit outside the tent and eat my dinner, relatively unmolested. Dinner consisted of army issue curry and potatoes, an odd sounding combination which actually worked surprisingly well. Despite being miles away, I could make out the rumble of trains in the distance, the air being a lot calmer than it had been through the day. This wasn’t to last though, and through the night the tent was buffeted around for a spell, as rain passed through, but by morning all was settled again. After a breakfast of muesli, with milk chilled in the loch, I was off back across the moor, and was back at the car in under an hour. Throwing my gear in the boot, I set off for Cluny’s Cage.
A quick search on the internet revealed that Cluny’s Cage was somewhere on the very rocky southern slopes of Creag Dubh, but I was unable to locate a precise grid reference for it. After much searching of the rocky hillside I was also unable to find the cave either. No wonder Bonnie Prince Charlie evaded the British Army for so long! I hit the road once more, stopping briefly near Newtonmore to watch an acrobatic red squirrel dancing along a wire fence. I headed homewards, for the obligatory tick removal session which follows a visit to this part of the world, and which never fails to yield at least a few of the buggers. Unlike my quest for the cave, that search was successful…
The Airdrie Rambler 
What was your score? (ticks) – my record is 9 in a day but I get them most days in Scotland out walking!
I’ve always looked at those two little hills by Crubenmor as well each time I pass and thought about going up them. Sounds tough terrain though…
Curry and potatoes is far nicer than boring rice – I usually have curry with mash. But, essentially, rice and potatoes are the same thing – just white starch with a similar taste. Being British though, I prefer the taste of potatoes.
In this case just 3, with a rogue one revealing itself a day later. I think the most I’ve had was 8. The weirdest one was when one attached itself to my eyelid…
Those hills are quite tough, especially when you go off the path, but they are tough in a fun way. Really enjoyable.
Yes, I quite liked the potatoes as well. A definite thumbs up for that one.