Winter in the West Coast Highlands
As ever, in a frantic rush to use my holidays up before the year is out, I find myself once again taking a week off and darting up to Scotland. Having seen snippets on social media, I began dreaming of scenes of winter in the west coast highlands. Having enjoyed the falling of leaves & the lush golden colours of autumn, a recent cold snap reminds us that winter is coming.
Why didn’t you use your holidays over the summer, or more effectively? Well truth be told, I had initially planned to travel significantly more this year. But I’ve cooked up quite a big plan for next year, which I’m very much in savings mode for. As such, my annual leave this year has been spent exploring parts of the UK I don’t often visit. A week of van dwelling and adventuring is both cheap and satisfying.
Scotland in November can be very temperamental. Much like autumn, but tending towards the wintery side of autumn. Days are short, sun is sparse and the nights are cold. Perhaps not the ideal conditions for adventuring, you might argue. I would argue there is no bad time for an adventure. If we had 12 months of summer, the nation would be permanently drunk and in a beer garden – not that that’s a bad thing, but we would certainly loose our appreciation for the blissful months of summer. Personally, I like change. I like the cycle of the year, the challenges it brings and opportunity to try new things.
That said, I’ve always been a fair weather, 3 season mountain goer. Rain and moderate winds I can deal with. But snow and ice is fairly new to me. I hear a lot of people rave about the challenge and the joys of winter in the mountains. I wanted to experience winter in the west coast highlands and see what the fuss was about.
In terms of my hobbies, I feel I’m at a point where I’d like to progress. I’ve taken my cycling to a new level this year, going further for longer with the introduction of bikepacking opening up a whole new world of adventure. Yet in terms of running and hiking I feel a little stagnated. I’m very much enjoying my running and hiking, I like the simplicity of it. The terrain I run is very varied, but the difficulty is not. There are routes I simply don’t feel confident in undertaking. I’ve had my mind drifting towards more serious challenges in terms of tougher scrambles, longer routes and some multi pitch climbing. Ultimately, I want to get stuck into full winter mountaineering and ski touring.
This trip was about finding out whether or not I like the mountains in the winter, whether I like the challenge – when the conditions aren’t too difficult or committing. After my last blog, where I outlined a struggle on deciding my next goals, I’ve decided I want to enhance my mountain game to give myself a new focus in lieu of next years ‘big plan’.
Arriving back from Vancouver late Friday night after a hectic week away on business, only to immediately head north to the Lake District for a hectic weekend at Kendal Mountain Festival. A truly awe inspiring weekend of incredible films, brilliant social vibes & some adventure too. It was sensory overload. So much going on, so many familiar faces and new introductions. It was really hard to keep track of it all. All these people who share my love of adventure and the outdoors all in one place. So many fascinating stories of adventures around the planet, so many new plans discussed & just not enough to take it all in!
So by the time Monday morning came around, we needed a chill out. Sarah and I headed up the Langdale valley bright and early – Sarah late (as always). It was a beautiful sunrise up on Lingmoor, even better with coffee in hand. I always like the company of like-minded folk, who bring their own humour.
Before darting up to the paradise of Glencoe & the mountains of the west coast highlands, I had one quick score to settle with the Coledale horeshoe. Running shoes and layers on, I headed out late in the afternoon for some more Wainwright bagging before witnessing a rather spectacular glowing sunset. Sunrise to sunset days are the best days on the fells, especially with a light dusting of snow on the tops.
After a late drive on Monday, the jet lag and weekend hangover catching up, Tuesday was a chilled out day, with a quick rip at Glencoe Mountain Resort on the downhill trails. The plan was to refresh and acclimatise to the Baltic temperatures! Wednesday was planned to be a big day. I had snow-capped peaks on my mind; it was time to chase winter in the west coast highlands.
I awoke from the comfort of my van, to a dark and overcast sky. The gloom totally uninviting. The mountain tops shrouded, hidden from view. Today was to be my first experience of a snow capped mountain in Scotland. Excited and anxious, I put the kettle on. Coffee first is my way of doing things.
After some research and racking the brains of friends, I decided Buachaille Etive Beag would be my mountain destination of choice, where I would start my pursuit of winter in the west coast highlands. The route was simple, but conditions were fickle. Kit packed accordingly, I ventured out. Excited, nervous & still a bit tired. Truth be told, I found the hardest part being the ice at around 500-700m on the ascent up the col between the two summits. Once above the snow line, I found progress to be much quicker with increased traction underfoot. Despite low visibility, tracks in the snow made navigation fairly simply. From the col, the summit of Stob Coire Raineach was due north east and the summit of Stob Dubh due south west. So with a bearing set to confirm the tracks in the snow & the fact I was going uphill at a rate consistent with the gradient of the contours, I proceeded into the clag.
I chose these summits for their accessibility and ease of which to practice some simple skills. If I was to get caught out, it needed to be somewhere where escape was pretty straightforward. With layers a plenty and a solid hardshell, the elements were certainly challenging, but I felt comfortably equipped to stay warm and protected all day. Despite zero majestic Scottish mountain views, it was a thoroughly enjoyable few hours in the cloud and snow.
Of course no trip to Scotland is complete without a visit to a bothy. Winter in the west coast highlands can be somewhat tiresome with 16 hours darkness, I figured a night in the bothy would a welcome change of scenery from a cold van. So after summiting the two munros, satisfied with my achievements & descending the treacherous ice, I headed round to the southern shore of Loch Etive, pulled my bikepacking set up together and headed out into the night in search of Cadderlie bothy.
Cycling into the bothy from Bonawe in the dark, I arrived to a deserted shelter bar a small pile of foraged branches. I set about making the place my home for the evening – lighting the fire, fixing my bed and knocking up some supper. Having been off my food a little, I opted for a low calorie dhal & rice with spinach courtesy of firepot foods.
Outside I could hear the wind, the noise of the forrest and the lake, gently lapping the shore. Inside I hear nought but crackling flames. Alone with my thoughts & a bottle of red, plotting away at the next adventure. It’s this simple life that I cherish so deeply.
After a cold few days in the van, the warm hearth of the bothy provided inexplicable comfort. My van is the essence of adventure, it enables and facilitates travel, transportation of kit and provides accommodation. But when the ambient temperatures rarely get above freezing, there’s times where evenings can be a little unpleasant.
A night of warmth and wine was followed by the most spectacular sunrise. From the window of the bothy, where my morning coffee was brewing, I could see across loch Etive to the snow-capped mountains beyond – behind which the first rays of morning light were beginning to shine. It was the kind of scene where you have to simply stand still and admire. Winter in the west coast highlands was challenging, but oh so beautiful.
Feeling rather accomplished after my day yesterday, I decided I would continue to ride yet more mountainous miles today, exploring the trails around Glencoe lochan.
Friday was to be my second day in the hills. I decided I would push my pursuit of winter in the west coast highlands a little further. Thursday had been quite mild, as such the snow had melted a little on the tops. It was by no means crampons weather, so I headed for Beinn a’Bheither where a ridge connected two 1000m munros.
The ridge itself was fabulous. Not overly exposed or technical, but an exciting scramble nonetheless. The complication of a little snow and ice under hand and foot certainly added an extra element of thrill to the adventure. The skies weren’t clear, gaps in the cloud providing intermittent views and atmospheric conditions in equal measure. To answer my question, would I like ridges/scrambles & snow conditions in the winter? Absolutely yes!
Whilst climbing the ridge and being on the tops in winter was cool, the scree descent was not. I hate scree at the best of times. Its lethal stuff! Then factor in some of its frozen and some isn’t, you’ve got quite frankly a disaster waiting to unfold. But that minor blip aside, I can say I really enjoyed the challenge of winter on the hills. Low visibility, snow underfoot and some other challenges that don’t present themselves in summer certainly gives a mountain adventure an additional element to consider.
After a summer of long distance bikepacking and tent camping, it’s nice to be able to switch focus onto different adventurous pursuits. Still getting my adrenaline fix, still getting campouts and still exploring new places. Perhaps the mode of travel is slower, but its allowing me the practice and develop new skills. When summer rolls back around and conditions become optimal for long distance bikepacking, I’ll feel reinvigorated. Or maybe I just need to stop having so many hobbies!
