Buachaille Etive Mor

The forecast for the week in Glencoe wasn't looking too promising so we snatched at the opportunity of a clearish morning to try to get up Buachaille Etive Mor.

The ascent up Coire na Tulaich was hard going and Jörg's knee was bothering him, so I left him at the col to climb Stob Dearg, which was still clear, but only just. We walked along the ridge together to the point of descent, where Jörg set off down.

The weather was closing in and my boots, a pair of fashion accessories that I had picked up cheap in Morningside earlier that summer, were beginning to fall apart, but I was determined to reach the new Munro, Stob na Broige, at the far end of the ridge. The rest of the day got progressively more unpleasant, until finally I was hobbling along an extremely boggy path through the Lairig Gartain in pouring rain with only one and a half boots on. I was rather worried about Jörg, whom I hadn't seen, but a couple coming the other way said they'd seen him, and I finally found him at the car park, being eaten alive by the midges which had descended in what was now intermittent light drizzle.

Apparently we had just missed Lisa, who had driven up early to see if we were back yet then left again. Eventually she returned, and we drove back to the house to have baths, showers and tip all our clothes in the washing machine. The lesson of the day for me was: get a decent pair of boots! The following day in Fort William I bought myself a pair of Zamberlan boots, which got me successfully up my next 110 Munros, as well as doing several hundred kilometres walking in France. I tried them out on the last day of our holiday in an abortive attempt to get up Beinn a' Bheithir in an afternoon. The boots were fine, but the forest tracks didn't match the map, I got lost, and after this slow start was put off by the first few drops of rain. I walked all the way back to the house, stopping in at Ballachulish to buy a compensatory Mars Bar.

<U>Buachaille Etive Mor</U> (Glen Coe, 11.8.98)
O great herdsman of Etive,
Lift me high upon your shoulders,
Bear me home again.
Great herdsman of Etive,
Sentinel of the glen.