Into the Wilderness .. Setting out .. Loch Leven & Glencoe

Perhaps I should mention at this point .. it was not Alcohol that was killing my liver . Although I enjoy a drink on occasion.. it is certainly not a habit.

My poison was a double cocktail of too much iron in my system (hemochromatosis) and also chronic HVC (long term Hepatitis C) I never even hear of these ..until my gall bladder was diseased by them ?

My liver was taking a pounding ..and in my imagination .. I worried over fears of needing a transplant ? .. or worse !!

My thoughts were very confused as I left home for a summer living In the Wilderness. I wanted to escape from deep thoughts so did what I know best .. escape to a wilderness that I am comfortable with.

Before heading north I stopped off at Glencoe and Loch Leven. These videos give a good insight into the boat I took on my travels . I was testing the waters and foraging for food to live off

Glencoe and some bitter / sweet memories

I stood on the top of all the Glencoe summits around the early 1980’s but following an accident on Buachaille Etive Mor in 1984, I gave up mountaineering until just a few years ago.

I was scrambling en route for Curved Ridge when a teenager fell almost 1000ft and landed only six feet from where I was. I waited with him for almost an hour while my young brother ran back down the mountain to call out the rescue team. There were no mobile phones in those days. He was bleeding badly from a hole in his skull, I was very glad he never recovered consciousness while I waited. I have never felt so alone or helpless in my life as I waited by his side on the cold lonely mountain, until another two climbers arrived. All the time, I could hear very faint cries coming from near the top of Crowberry Gully.

I then set off with one of the climbers to ascend the Gully. It was in full winter condition. We found three terrified teenagers near the top of the gully. They were stuck just below the icy crux of this VS winter climb, without crampons, ice axe or ropes. In fact this was their first outing on a mountain. They were wearing nothing more than trainers. I guess they were lucky because they survived. The lad that landed by my feet had died. I admit I was a bit afraid climbing the steep snow and ice pitches of the gully. The blood and hair on the snow over 1000ft. was a constant reminder of where I would end if I fell, and the condition I would be in.

Three years ago I returned to hill walking and decided to walk up Stob Coire nan Lochan. I was surprised to see a stone stepped path almost all the way to the top. In my earlier days, it was a loose gravel path. I suppose it was built to prevent erosion but it did take away some of the feeling of "mountaineering in the wilderness." I was also a bit surprised at how steep the mountain now seemed. I never noticed that in my earlier days but suspect that is because of my age now rather than the slopes getting steeper.

The stone staircase to the Coire nan Lochan. I was alone but there were plenty of people doing the same walk, so I was not concerned about walking on my own. I also had my mobile phone .. had I lost my spirit of adventure ?



Looking back down the path, I was surprised that it was steeper than I remembered from years ago.



Just as the path enters the coire, the snow and ice started.



I was not prepared. It was solid ice. Even on gentle gradients, it was too hard to kick the slightest toe hold into the snow. I had no crampons or ice axe.



I continued for a while, jumping from rock to rock but soon everything turned slippery white. I remembered that fateful day on the Buachaille and decided to turn back.



Before I went down again, I remembered other days climbing the mountains of Scotland. I remembered the first time I stood on the top of Stob Coire nan Lochan. I ascended it via broad gully with my brothers and my father. At that time, he was my age now. I shall return to climb some of those gullies again. Circled in red is two people starting broad gully on Stob Coire nan Lochan.


As youngsters, my brother and I thought nothing of scrambling up ice pitches without ropes but we did use ice axes, and crampons. Perhaps we were lucky to survive too. This photo was on a frozen waterfall somewhere on Craig Meaghaidh. It was known as Scotlands killer mountain then.. I wonder why ?

Glencoe and some of its mountains

It’s that time of the year again when the colds and flu’s seem to be doing their rounds again. Unfortunately I caught the bug which is why I have not been walking or posting much lately. Fortunately Im on the mend again and should be fighting fit for the Xmas holidays. In the mean time here is another selection of my favourite photos of Glencoe.

Storm clouds clearing over Buachaille Etive Mor



Classic Buachaille Etive Mor



Classic Buachaille Etive Beag



River Coupall and Buachaille Etive Beag



There are little memorials to unfortunate climbers everywhere once you get off the beaten track.



Kingshouse Hotel on a lovely day



The Three sisters of Glencoe from the old road



First glimpse of the three sisters when entering Glencoe from the east



Stob Coire Nan Lochan covered in snow



The photo of the River Coupall and The "Wee Buachaille" inspired this watercolour painting

Glencoe and the River Coe

Glencoe is often referred to as the Glen of Weeping perhaps because of reference to its bloody history and infamous massacre. It is named after the river Coe that runs through and it is the crystal clear water that make me think of a weeping glen. I have always found it a very moody and brooding place, even on the brightest of days.

Perhaps its because the valley runs east to west and the sun doesn’t reach the valley floor unless its high in a summer sky, I have always found it hard to capture the real moods of the glen in photographs. However, every once in a while I think I manage to get a photo that I’m happy with. Here are some of them. I hope they don’t make you feel like weeping, but I do hope they convey the mood of the glen and river to you.

A shaft of light breaks through the dark clouds to illuminate part of the hillside and the River Coe



The swollen River Coe running high after a day of non stop rain



The dancing falls of the river Coe near the Clachaig Inn



Snow melt heading to Loch Leven on a cold winters day



Crystal clear oxygenated water in the river coe, good enough to drink straight from the banks.



The river Coe bubbling and babbling between its banks on a very windy day



A cold Glencoe reflected on the calm waters of Loch Achtriochtan



A shaft of light adds to the mood of the dark glen



The remembrance monument to the massacre of Glencoe sits quietly beside the river Coe

Glencoe and the Lost Valley

The car thermometer was reading minus fourteen degrees centigrade when I stopped at the car park in Glencoe. The recent snowfall had not yet consolidated and there were few other walkers in sight so I opted for an easy walk. I decided to visit the Lost Valley which is reputed to be where the MacDonald’s hid the cattle they rustled and from their neighbours.

The walk follows the Allt Coire Gabhail which flows down between Beinn Fhada and Gearr Aonach after crossing the River Coe by a wooden bridge



Then the path rises quite steeply as it weaves through the silver birch trees



Splattered with frost and snow, the silver birch looked very spectacular in the early morning light.



As the path headed for the open hillside, I was conscious of the steep slopes into the Allt Coire Gabhail. Quite a few people over the years, have disappeared down the slippery slopes into the burn and not made it back.



However, with a little bit of care, its not difficult to get to the Lost Valley. The path crosses the burn further up. This photo was taken just below the entrance to the Lost Valley and is looking back into Glencoe.



Not much further, and I took this one from inside the Valley looking across to the sunlit mountains that form the Aonach Eagach



It was like been shut in a deep freeze, standing alone in the valley with was not a single sound to be heard. The high valley walls shielded the sound of the traffic passing through Glen Coe.



Its not too often in life when you can hear absolute silence and it’s a strange feeling. I felt I was a million miles from anywhere. Its one of my favourite walks in Glencoe.



Sadly, I found it too cold to savour the feeling of total isolation for long. I ran back to the car and got the heater going as soon as I could.

Glencoe and the Pap

Without doubt, one of my favourite sea lochs for inflatable boating during the summer was Loch Leven. As I made my way up and down the loch, my eyes were constantly drawn to Sgorr na Ciche or as its more commonly called, The Pap of Glencoe. At only 2434 ft high, its certainly not the highest hill in the area but I often wondered what the bird’s eye view of the loch would be like from its summit.



It was early November before I finally got round to finding out. It was a beautiful clear day with a frost in the air when I parked just outside of Glencoe village. The top of the pap was bathed in sunshine.



Within minutes of starting the walk, the mountains on the Ardgour peninsula came into view. They looked very steep and spectacular framed by the foreground fir trees.



Not long after, enough height was gained to look over the various islands at the west end of Loch Leven. My mind drifted back to the visits to the burial grounds on Eilean Munde



It’s a steep path up the hillside and I was glad of the frost as it had frozen the ground making walking on the boggy parts very easy. With every step upwards, the westward view got better and better.



The path heads towards the bealach between the Pap and Sgorr nam Fiannaidh before it swings northwards to head for the knobbly top of the Pap



The rocky top looks quite formidable from this angle but by keeping to the path, it’s no more that a steep walk through the rocky outcrops.



That is when the views to the east start to open out. The steep ridge of Garbh Bheinn looks quite impressive from this angle. I have made a mental note to try it sometime in the near future.



Over on the west side again, the ridge of Beinn a Bheithir looks even more impressive.



Finally the summit was reached and I can see the whole of Loch Leven from the top. As my eyes wandered round the view, I recalled all the points of interest I had found in my inflatable boat.



The narrows and the campsite at Caolas na con looked quite different from the air and seemed to be directly below me.



Looking east, I could now see all the way to Kinlochleven. The air was very clear and a little snow topped the highest summits in the distance. The views made me long for the warmer weather to return so I can get the boat back on the water.

Loch Leven and the island of Eilean Munde

My next couple of journeys took me to Glencoe and Loch Leven.

I don’t know why but ever since I read that many of the murdered MacDonald’s from the massacre of Glencoe were buried on the Island of Eilean Munde, I had wanted to visit the burial ground. It is situated in the middle of Loch Leven and only accessible if you have access to a boat. Now I had the inflatable, there was no stopping me.

I headed off after work on a lovely Friday evening, parked in a lay by on the north shore, almost directly opposite the island and launched my inflatable.



It didn’t take long to motor across and start exploring the islands. The smaller one called Eilean a Chomhraidh was home to a flock of gulls and terns. They had a few young ones in the nests and started to dive bomb as I approached, so I didn’t land on that island.



I did land on Eilean Munde. It has steep sloping sides but I found a reasonable place to land and hauled the boat well clear of the water. I didn’t want to find it washed away on the incoming tide and have to spend the night surrounded by dead MacDonalds.



The island was very overgrown but I soon found my way to the remains of St Munn’s church which was built in the 7th century. The last service was held in 1693. The walls still stand today.



I paid my respects and listened to the silent choirs as I took this photograph from inside the church.



Its not only MacDonald’s that are buried here but also Camerons, MacInnes’s and Stewarts. I guess its still in use today as I noticed a new dug grave on my second visit. The spade was still beside the grave stone. The stones are made from local quarried Ballachulish slate. I couldn't help but notce from the dates on the stones that it was a busy place around the 1850's ?



This stone is an exception, made from granite and not slate. I liked the contrast between the remains of the dead tree and the grave stone.



It was a moving visit for me but I was glad to get back to the boat. As I rowed towards the mainland, I watched the sun go down over Ardgour and though it was a great night to be alive.



That evening, as I laid my head to rest in the back of the car, I watched the darkness slowly engulf Beinn a Bheithir. I remembered the people I once knew who would never see the sun again. I also realised that I had achieved another of my life's ambitions… to visit Eilean Munde.