A Taste of Winter

Having missed the Arete Patterdale Meet and reflecting on my lack of fitness I decide to have a weekend at the FRCC hut in Patterdale and do some hill walking in the area. On hearing my plans Colin and Bev decided to come up on Saturday night to join me on Sundays walk.
I set out on Saturday for Place Fell by the Bordale Hause route, the clouds clearing ocasionally to give sunlit views over Patterdale.

The ascent was straightforward following good paths up to the summit which was shrouded in mist. I carried on to High Dodd which appeared to be little visited although only a few yards from the main descent path. I doubled back to Place Fell this time by Mortar Crag and continued back to Boredale Hause.
The mists cleared sufficient to make sense of the proliferation of paths at the hause and I headed for Beda Head. Beda Head lies at the end of the long ridge of Beda Fell between Boredale and Bannerdale and the ascent was notable only because of sighting a couple of red deer on the way.
On Sunday the air was decidedly colder and a sprinkling of fresh snow covered the high tops as once again I set out for Boredale Hause, this time with Colin and Bev for company.

Our first objective was Angletarn Pikes which was again shrouded in mist. This hill has twin summits, knobbly mounds separated by boggy ground. We visited both and using the GPS ascertained that the larger cairn is on the lower of the two summits.
We descended to Angle Tarn in light snowfall and had a quick coffee then headed for Brock Crags.

Checking the route from Brock Crags summit

The rest of the route entailed navigating through mist and snow over Rest Dodd to The Knott. With modern day GPS you are never really lost but we still took some satisfaction from finding our way with the map and compass.

Knott Summit

As we descended to Hartsop via Hayeswater the snow turned to rain but we were well satisfied with a good days walking.



Soft morning light was slowly illuminating Knoydart as I quietly latched the bothy door, leaving Clive and our London companions sleeping peacefully. It had rained all night, but I was hopeful that the conditions would improve as I set off to walk around the shoreline marked on the map. Within a few moments I realised my mistake. It was high tide and the only route across to the river Carnach’s boggy estuary involved clambering over the slippery hillside behind the bothy.

By the time I reached the dilapidated footbridge at Carnoch I’d warmed up nicely, and I was cheered by the fact that the sky was clearing and the rain had eased to light drizzle. I felt certain that if I kept a brisk pace I’d be able to enjoy stunning Knoydart summit views.

My faith in the weather gods proved to be greatly misplaced. Within half an hour it was raining heavier than ever. By the time I reached Meall Buidhe’s summit at 11.30hrs I was being battered by hail and strong winds. I continued in these conditions to my second objective the summit of Luinne Bheinn. I reached this at 2pm and was rewarded by catching a few fleeting views of the grandeur of my surroundings.

Despite the classic Monroing conditions I felt a deep pang of regret as I began to plot a route down the challenging descent to the river valley again. The day’s weather had been as grim as look on Clive’s face as he watched the Londoners sheepishly leave the bothy in my absence, but the sheer joy of travelling freely amongst such rugged, wild, and remote countryside had brightened my sole.

Knoydart Bothy trip

Jago suggested a bothy trip to Scotland and I readily agreed with the intention of adding to my Corbett list. Unfortunately his target Munros were in Knoydart, the wettest part of Scotland and his days off were booked for October.
Sure enough when we rolled up at the roadhead at Strathan it was raining steadily. We set off up Glen Dessary bound for Sourlies, a bothy on the shore of Loch Nevis. All went well until we came to the stream flowing from Coire nan Uth. The waters were crashing over the boulders with such a force the stream proved impassable. We dumped the sacks and wandered upstream to find a better crossing place but to no avail.


Looking for a crossing place



There was nothing for it but to shoulder the sacks again and walk up into the corrie, after 200 metres of height gain we found a crossing place and dropped back down to the path. The terrain then took on the wild Knoydart character with the path twisting over or around rocky knobbles, bogs and lochans.      

 





Darkness fell as we descended from the pass at 300 metres to the sea shore and eventually the bothy. Two lads from London had arrived before us and were already in their sleeping bags so after a short conversation we made our dinner and turned in.

Next morning Jago made an early start for Meall Buidhe and Luinne Bheinn while I lay in my bag deciding whether to bother going out in the rain. The two boys from London stirred and began talking to each other. I was hidden away behind a partition and listened on as their coversation turned to disparaging remarks about me and Jago and Barnsley people in general. When one of them suggested taking our sleeping bags I announced my presence with a firm 'good morning' and they fell silent. They arose so I quickly got dressed and sat where I could see all our gear and watched their every move as they quietly packed and left without breakfast or a word of farewell.

Sourlies is in a magnificent setting on the shores of a sea loch and  surrounded by rugged mountains. I spent a pleasant day beachcombing and watching the wild life and trying, without success, to kill the bothy mouse until Jago returned having bagged his two hills.

 

Sourlies Bothy

Next day the water levels had fallen and we walked out without incident two and a half hours faster than the walk in. 

Looking back to Loch Nevis. Sourlies is on the little grass strip on the right.