Finding Winter Treasure

Western Highlands   7th to 9th January 2011

The road in Glen Etive was blocked by groups of deer,  come down from the bitter hillsides to find the treasure of food.

It's just as well a stag looks magnificent from the front, because when you're gently following one along the tarmac, the impression is much more of a big barrel rolling on pin legs.

A Christmas landscape followed as we got clear of the herds, and made our way through the snowy pines towards Sgurr na h-Ulaidh, which means "Peak of the Treasure". For me, the 995-metre summit would be a reprise of a treasured memory, as I was last there in 1994; for Matt and Paul it had been selected as a bit of Scotland new to both of them.  Sunlight and cloud jostled each other as we marched steadily up the frozen moor towards a bealach at 600 metres.

After some early promise, the cloud seemed to be winning and when we had a snack at the bealach, there was little to be seen in a grey-white world.

Axes and crampons came out for the south-east ridge, which was steep enough in places to need both -- and during the hour that it took us to clamber this steep 1200 feet, the mist havered and wavered, with finally some welcome blue as we saw the summit across the yawning gap of Vixen Gulley. 

Still enough cloud fleeing by, to receive our shadows, and so those friendly brocken spectres waved back to us, blessed with their haloes like Orthodox saints. 

Superb views now of Beinn a'Bheither,  Bidein, and around to Ben Starav and Ben Cruachan.

The sun shone all afternoon, as we made our way back to Glen Etive across the 748 - metre outlier of Meall a' Bhuiridh.

At the Kingshouse, the usual suspects were hanging about, and to celebrate the treasure of our day, I fed them on a little surplus malt loaf, which was treasure to them.

Matt had ample supplies of sausage and vegetables, and a comfy night at Crianlarich YH followed, with the occasional snowflake noticed through the glass. Ahem !.  Next morning was - put simply - mingin' ; with a dump of over 6 inches and cold wet sleet falling. Dawn was spent digging out the car and using ice axes to chop away at the steep lane which leads upwards from the car park. All pretty 'orrible. However, improvement was forecast and after a cup of tea it started. 

The Munro Committee of Matt and Paul had settled on 933-metre Beinn Chabhair  ("Hill of the Hawk"......NOT Hill of the Chavs) and after the steep start from the valley beside Benglas Burn, it became clear just how much snow had fallen. At 300 metres, we were wading through a minimum 12 inches of fluffy white, deepening to thighs and even waist deep in the occasional drift. 

Fortunately Paul The Plough was turned up to "Full" and battered a trench for the next 2 miles. A Scots trio came up behind,  but smartly declined the lead when they found what was involved. So, forming an orderly queue behind Paul, up we went onto the shoulder of the mountain.

Again it was hard going for an hour, ever upwards on the deep snow, over and around its wind-carved shapes and flutings. The bumpy summit gave excellent views over a landscape  shining white with an astonishing blue to the sky. 

Later, the Inverarnan Inn provided re-acquaintance with the stuffed bear in the entrance (still !!) plus a steak sandwich (of more recent origin). And then hey, ho, away for England. Stuffed full of Treasures........ our friends the Deer,  those rarely-seen Brocken Spectres, the sausages, the chess, [of which details remain classified !] the Hill of the Hawk, and Sgurr na h-Ulaidh itself.