Back in July of this year I camped high on the bealach between Leum Uillium and Beinn a’ Bhric near Corrour. As I looked out across the hills I saw a long ridge leading up to a hill which I had failed to bag a number of years ago, and which stuck out on my Munro map as the sole peak in that area which I had not climbed – Stob Coire Sgriodan. The route looked so straightforward and simple that it went straight to the top of my “to-do” list. Why had I avoided it for so long?
Fast forward to September 2022 and I was looking to get away for an overnight camp, and with a few other options falling through my sights immediately set on Stob Coire Sgriodan. Many years ago I had set off with my friend Mick to accompany him on a charity walk (on checking it was way back in 2009!), and with Paul and Helen Webster of the Walk Highlands website we set off down Loch Ericht from Dalwhinnie, crossing Carn Dearg, Geal Charn, before leaving Paul and Helen to carry on with Aonach Beag and Beinn Eibhinn, camping overnight high in the hills. Next day was a long slog which saw us crossing the Abhainn Gulbhinn before ascending Chno Dearg under the weight of heavy rucksacks, via the heathery, undulating slopes of Meall Dhearcaig. This really took it out of us and by the time we had ascended Chno Dearg we were running low on time, and I had to leave Mick on Meall Garbh to head for Corrour. Stob Coire Sgriodan looked tantalisingly close (and as I would find out looks can be deceptive) but it really was touch and go as to whether I could get to the station in time, and so I had to leave it for another day. I didn’t realise that other day would not happen for thirteen years…
In the intervening years I have had two athroscopies on my left knee and had all but given up Munro bagging. I had on occasion revisited some old peaks, but since 2014 when my knee troubles began in earnest I had bagged only four new peaks, (Lochnagar in 2018), and since then nothing. If I could bag this one then it would be my first new Munro in four years. I have long given up on the idea of bagging them all, but some of my recent camping trips have taught me that perhaps I am capable of doing much more than I thought possible. One thing which has helped me is that I’ve finally found some footwear that doesn’t cripple me, and the switch to trail running shoes has helped me immensely. The confidence I once had in my own abilities has also returned slightly, and I am aware that things I recently thought beyond me aren’t as far from my reach as I thought. Seeing this hill from another angle also helped, and it was that view back in July that brought me back here again.
Alighting from the train at Corrour always feels like coming to my home from home, and I was on familiar ground almost immediately, picking my way down the soggy path towards Fort William. I’d chosen this route as it cut off a fair bit of walking, but it was a challenge at times, and I resolved to return via the long road if possible. After around two kilometres the footpath joins up with the main track and passes under the railway near the old ruins of Luibruairidh. I tried to determine what purpose this building served, and maps dating to the 1870’s show a building there, as well as a “Chalybeate Well”. Perhaps this place was a later victim of the Clearances, it’s fate now lost to time. I started uphill, initially following the tracks of an all-terrain vehicle, however it’s final destination was unclear and so I left it to ascend Sron na Garbh-bheinne and gain the wide ridge which leads up to 857m Garbh-bheinne, before falling and then rising up to Meall Garbh, which I would have to ascend again to bag Stob Coire Sgriodan. The terrain, like other hills in the area, is an ankle-twisting mixture of rock and heather, with bog and peat hags thrown in for good measure, and I grew doubtful that I would find a good campsite which would take a peg. My progress was slow, and I readjusted my plans en-route, as I often do. Instead of camping high upbetween Meall Garbh and Stob Coire Sgriodan (which I would later discover would have been an excellent campsite, especially if I had been pushing on to Fersit), I would dump off my gear, ascend the two Munro’s, then drop back down and camp lower on the ridge, allowing a shorter walk out for the lunchtime train the following day.
I took a GPS reading of where I had hidden my gear. I’ve had gear stolen in the past, though not on the Munro’s, but I see no need to openly invite people. It’s amazing how few reports of theft there are in the hills, given that people often head off to bag summits while leaving hundreds, if not thousands of pounds of gear in open view. A good tent, sleeping bag and mat could be worth in the high hundreds alone. As I was leaving my gear cache I saw someone descending the slope from Meall Garbh, and my intended path would cause me to meet them, however I lost sight of them for a second, and by the time I had got to where I thought I would meet them the hillside was completely empty. I assumed they must have dropped down into the steep glen below, but such is the nature of the ground that I couldn’t see them. Scratching my head, I ascended towards the summit, and glancing back saw a lone walker pacing around not far from where I had hidden my gear. Had he really dropped out of sight to avoid meeting me? I know people like to get away from it all, but who knows?
I emerged onto the stony summit where I was met with a stunning view across to Beinn na Lap, a markedly different prospect from this angle, with its own loch on its northern flanks, and across Strath Ossian where I could see the familiar outlines of those hills where I had camped all those years ago. As I made ready to leave this wind scoured summit I was joined by the walker I had seen coming up behind me. Andrew was from Aberdeen and was chalking up quality hill days for his Mountain Leader award, and I invited him to join me on the way to the next summit. Over the last few days he had been all over, the Lake District, the Scottish Borders and now here. I discovered that he was a mountain ranger in the Cairngorms, and we chatted about his work as we made our way across to Stob Coire Sgriodan. We both remarked how deceptive this section was, with many dips and rises to contend with. I passed my earmarked campsite, and noted that it would have been a fairly good spot, with some shelter from the wind and plentiful water, as well as reasonable ground to pitch on. Not to mind, as I was soon atop the summit. My first new Munro in four years. I couldn’t linger however, as a black sky threatened. Andrew headed off at a trot to grab his gear and head over Chno Dearg, to his planned campsite in Strath Ossian; I followed at a slower pace, back over Meall Dearg and down to collect my gear.
With one eye on the clock and last light, and the other on the weather, I picked my way back down hill. I had my eye on a campsite near the top of Sron na Garbh-bheinne, but the arrival of the rain saw me quickly throw my gear down on a flattish patch just off the track and try to get the tent up before inner became sodden. I made it – just. I’m learning the hard way of the advantage of outer-first tents. The rain lingered for a while and I settled in to the tent for the evening. I had a mobile signal and was able to call home. Changed days indeed. Years ago if you got into trouble in the hills you were told to descend and find help. Now you are taught to ascend and get a phone signal! My wife asked if there was an earlier train and there was, at half past eight. I estimated that I’d need at least an hour and a half to get back to the track and perhaps an hour to Corrour Station. I set my alarm for 0515 and turned in. 0515 arrived and it was still dark and wild, and I didn’t fancy stumbling down this terrain in the last of the darkness, so settled in and waited for sunrise, and I was glad I did. I was greeted with a stunning view as the early morning glow crept across the far off hills of Glencoe. Old haunts gradually revealed themselves. The Big Buchaille, Lairig Gartain, The Wee Buchaille, and the Aggy Ridge. Superb.
Tent packed, I swept the area for litter and missed gear, and started to descend. I found it difficult to find the path, which is faint at the best of times. Catching sight of the ATV path below, I veered off the ridge, having to cross yesterday’s peat hags before scrambling down rocky outcrops and uneven ground to meet the path, which although defined, was sodden and not great for walking. In the distance I could see the sleeper train crawling north, Fort William bound. A few hours ago it would have been passing through Airdrie, my destination. I arrived back at Luibruairidh bridge after and hour and forty minutes. I was glad I hadn’t tried for the earlier train. With time to spare I decided to take the longer road back which swings around the lowe slopes of Beinn na Lap. I was soon working up a sweat, and took some time to stop every now and again to take pictures. One thing that caught my eye was a road-rail machine making it’s way along the track towards Corrour. It stopped occasionally, dropping of track workers who were inspecting the line. Talking to the crew later I found that the 10 mile journey from Tulloch to Corrour took them around 40 minutes, a bitterly cold journey in an open, unheated vehicle. This was not the place to lose a glove…
I rounded the hill and took in the view up Loch Ossian towards Ben Alder. The area, remote as it is, was dotted with people, hillwalkers making their way up Beinn na Lap, cyclists doing circuits of the loch, people making their way, like me, for the next train. Everyone seems to converge on Corrour Station, and it too was crowded. Being September weekend it was packed with people from far and wide, and I chatted with walkers from Manchester and Birmingham who were making their first visit to the area. I slipped inside the Station House to take some hot-chocolate and home-made cake, quickly replacing any burnt-off calories. It was a tired, but satisfied walker who tucked himself away onto the southbound train, content in the bagging of a Munro which had proved so elusive, and dreaming of the ones to come…
The Airdrie Rambler 
I had to really concentrate on visualising your route for that one as I did it from Fersit (my parents dropped me off and then met me with tablet later đŸ™‚ ). I think if your knees get worse, you might have to do less with a big pack – I find the extra weight even puts my joints under strain and they’re normally pretty happy. But I know you like your high camps so I hope you never have to do that.
If I’d been on a walk with the Websters, I’d have been trying to push them off a crag I think – decidedly not friends of mine – I’ve had a lot of trouble with them…
I did want to do a linear walk and come out at Fersit, but that last section on thee road put me off. I’ve done it once and didn’t fancy it again.
I’ve only been out with the Websters once, seemed like nice enough folk.
you’ll have to get your mother to drive you! Or your wife. It’s a nice walk from Fersit straight up the hill and I like Fersit in the gorse season – I did Chno Dearg on the way back down and that little hill below it as well as a Munro Top between Sgriodan and Chno Dearg.