I was very sad to hear of the death of Blyth Wright earlier this week. Blyth was a founder member of the Corriemulzie Club, those intrepid characters from the Dundee area who explored the north-west of Scotland in the sixties putting up some very hard routes in the process. More recently Blyth was the boss of the Scottish Avalanche Service at Glenmore Lodge where he had been an instructor for over 20 years.

Originally from Kirkcaldy, Blyth Wright was one of a group of hard climbers who put up a number of first ascents in the Alps during the seventies. He was also assistant director of the International School of Mountaineering at Leysin in Switzerland where he worked with the likes of John Harlin, Dougal Haston and Don Whillans. 

As well as being a great climber and an enthusiastic hill and mountain explorer Blyth’s other great love in life was the cause of Scottish Nationalism. Indeed, he was agent for Fergus Ewing MSP in the 1992 Westminster elections and the 1999 Holyrood elections when Fergus won his seat. But it’s for his knowledge and expertise in avalanches that Blyth will be remembered. He co-authored the standard UK text on the subject - A Chance in a Million? Scottish Avalanches, with Bob Barton and he also translated a number of texts from the original Swiss and French into English. I’ll always remember Blyth as a good friend who was always willing to share his time and knowledge when I pestered him for various articles and features I was writing, and a better companion over a dram or two would be hard to find. 

I was very sorry to hear the news about Irvine Butterfield who died last Tuesday. I had known Irvine for over 30 years and regarded him as a good friend, and indeed a close ally on many conservation campaigns.

The last time I spoke to Irvine, just a few weeks ago, it was to congratulate him on being awarded the John Muir Trust’s Lifetime Achievement Award. It was only the fourth Award made by the JMT, and the calibre of past recipients – Tom Weir, Adam Watson and Doug Scott – just shows how highly Irvine was regarded.

I had known Irvine had been ill for some time, and he told me he was a bit worried about making the journey to the John Muir Trust event. It was only then I realised how ill he was. Three weeks ago I gave an AV presentation to the Munro Society, of which Irvine was founding president. It felt strange that he wasn’t there, confiding in me about some bit of information he’d discovered about windfarms, or land ownership, or having a good moan about the state of some conservation organisation or the other.

Irvine was a member of, usually a founding member, of a few organisations - the John Muir Trust, The Mountain Bothies Association, The Munro Society and he worked behind the scenes, on a voluntary basis, for the Mountaineering Council of Scotland. He was a true labourer in the interests of Scottish hillwalkers and mountaineers and most certainly “did something for wildness, and make the mountains glad”, to misquote John Muir.

Most hillwalkers will have known, or at least heard of, Irvine Butterfield. He was a kenspeckle figure in the outdoors scene in Scotland, a big, burly and often gruff Yorkshireman who had adopted Scotland as his home when his work as an exciseman brought him to Dundee. From there he moved to Perth where his colleagues at Dewers whisky introduced him to the Perth Mountaineering Club.

In 1971 he completed his round of the Munros, the 105^th person to climb all of Scotland’s 3000ft mountains. He later wrote what is regarded as the finest of all the guides to the Munros and other big hills, -The High Hills of Britain and Ireland. That was later followed with two fine photographic books, The Magic of the Munros, and the Call of the Corbetts.

I always regarded Irvine as a firm friend and I always enjoyed his visits when he was in the Newtonmore area. He’ll be sadly missed.

It was to be a lazy Saturday, the morning set aside for pottering about, attending to those little domestic tasks that had been put aside for another day and in the evening I had to give a talk to the Munro Society in Birnam in Perthshire. That left me with an afternoon to climb a hill, to make the most of the unseasonably warm sunshine and clear weather.

The obvious choice was somewhere along the A9 and with its easy high-level access from Drumochter Pass I plumped for Sgairneach Mhor, the big stony hillside, 32351ft/991m.

Despite its name, Sgearnaich Mhor doesn’t have a lot of rock on its slopes although its big north-facing corrie, Coire Creagach, does boast a few mini-crags. Indeed, it’s that big corrie that gives this hill its character, a huge wind-scoured bite out of the hillside that always looks quite dramatic in winter when big snow cornices hang over the corrie lip.

A number of years ago I was ski touring over this hill with a couple of friends, John Love and Bob Telfer. Thick mist covered the summit slopes and we were convinced we had skied past the summit cairn. We followed our ski tracks back, peering through the mist in search of the cairn, when Bob suddenly vanished from view. He had skied over the cornice.

Shocked, John and I peered over the edge to see Bob, legs and skis spreadeagled, hanging on just a few feet below us. Fortunately he hadn’t skied over the edge at the corrie’s steepest point. If he had, the outcome wouldn’t have been so happy. John, being the remarkably forthright guy that he is, told me later that the first thought to cross his mind was; “ Damn – I think Bob’s got the car keys!”

It was a far cry from winter when I left the A9 and took the recently resurfaced path between the two porcine hills of Drumochter - the Boar of Badenoch and the Sow of Atholl. Already I was stripped to a tee-shirt and the early afternoon sun shone from a cloudless sky. A good track runs up through the glacial moraines between the two hills, a track that gives easy access to the north-eastern slopes of the well rounded Sgairneach Mhor

The Dalnaspidal deer forest boasts four Munros - Sgairneach Mhor, Beinn Udlamain, A’Mharconaich, and Geal Charn, an area once known as the Druim Uachdair, the ridge of the upper ground. Tackling the four hills in one outing isn’t a difficult proposition, but the logistics of the approach does mean a walk along the A9, either at the beginning of the day, or at the end, depending on where you park. A Sustrans cycle track that runs adjacent to the A9 means you don’t have to actually walk on the busy main road.

After seeing to my few odd jobs in the morning I was still in a pottering mood. I knew I wouldn’t have time to wander round all four Munros and was happy enough just to climb one, and make my way back to the car via Coire Dhomhain, the long rising glen that separates Sgearnaich Mhor from the other Drumochter Munros. 

I found an easy river crossing before the long climb up Sgearnaich Mhor’s grassy north-east ridge. I was moving easily, feeling relaxed in the sun, cosseting myself by adjusting my walking stride to those pottering rhythms of the morning and in no time at all I was wandering along the lip of Coire Creagach, recalling Bob’s little ski trip. 

Cornices still hung over the edge, and great swathes of snow still lay in the corrie below. A pair of ravens kept me company, calling to each other as they performed show-off acrobatics. A wheatear bobbed on the summit trig point as I approached, its white rump feathers gleaming in the sun. To the south, Schiehallion stood proud, and the jumble of the Cairn Mairg hills and the Lawers hills were still swathed in white. Beyond lay the celestial twins of Stobinian and Ben More, and further north, through the haze, rose the Wall of Rannoch hills, the Glen Coe hills and, closer at hand, the snow streaked Ben Alder massif.

There wasn’t a sigh, or a breath of wind - the stillness of the high places. I listened to try and capture a sound, any sound, but couldn’t, other than the faint pulse of the blood coursing through my own veins. Such silence is rare on a mountain top, and after a quick bite of lunch I lay back in the sun, closed my eyes, and instantly fell asleep. It was wonderful…

On the long descent down the path in Coire Dhomhain the world felt like a good place. Meadow pipits and skylark sang their sweet outpourings of song and high above me a great herd of deer moved across the hillside, grazing contentedly in the warmth of the afternoon sun. I felt pretty content too, the exercise raising the levels of certain mood-enhancing neurotransmitters in the brain. Research has also shown that exercise may also boost feel-good endorphins, release muscle tension, and reduce levels of the stress hormone cortisol. Indeed, it was the Harvard academic E O Wilson who once said: “Wilderness settles peace on the soul because it needs no help. It is beyond man’s contrivance.” I’ll go along with that.

Photo: The Ben Alder massif from Sgearnaich Mhor

I drove north from Glasgow to Badenoch last night through some horrendous gales and sleet showers and couldn’t help but think of the 350 TGO Challengers who had set from from various locations on the West coast of Scotland earlier in the day.

It was the first day of the 30th TGO Challenge, and I could imagine what was going through the minds of the first-timers. The good news however, is that the weather will gradually improve over the weekend and high pressure will start to build from Sunday/Monday into what looks like a glorious week for hiking across Scotland towards Montrose.

I find it hard to believe this event, often described as the biggest and best backpacking event in the world, is 30 years old. I clearly remember Roger Smith, at that time editor of The Great Outdoors magazine, telling me he had just had a meeting with Bill Wilkins of Ultimate Equipment and Hamish Brown about organising a large scale backpacking event. Like others, I initially had my doubts - it wasn’t a race, so what was the point? Would it introduce too many people onto the Scottish hills at one time? Could there be safety issues?

The event was known as the Ultimate Challenge in those days. Unfortunately, Ultimate Equipment, the sponsor, went bust a few years later so the event became the TGO Challenge, and it has gone from strength to strength. This year there were about 100 people on the waiting list.

We filmed some of the event last year for BBC Scotland’s Adventure Show, and I nipped around the highlands for a week filming some of the challengers and getting some interviews with them, trying to get a feel for what the event was all about. I think what came across was an event with a great deal of camaraderie, a very social event with folk meeting up in bothies and pubs and guest houses, and walking together during the day. We picked up some good stories and put the whole thing into DVD form which is available from this web site or from www.mountain-media.co.uk. We have some good stuff from Chris Townsend about lightweight gear and I followed a high level route that many of the Challengers will take over Beinn Macdui, Britain’s second highest mountain.

Over the years I’ve discovered that each Challenge brings its on little problems and events, its own tales and stories, even engagements and weddings! I wonder what this year, the 30th, will produce?

Hidden away in a cleft of wild mountainous land between Glen Coe and Glen Etive the Corbett of Beinn Maol Chaluim, 2957ft/907m, does not attract large numbers of hillwalkers. Its proximity to the popular Munros of Glen Coe tends to keep it relatively free of people and those hillwalkers who do take the long single-tracked road down Glen Etive are usually intent on bagging the impressive Ben Starav.

With every car park along the A82 through Glen Coe full to overflowing I decided I wanted a quiet day on the hill, and I knew from past experience on Beinn Maol Chaluim that I needn’t go far in search of it.

Glen Etive, unusually, was also busy but with paddlers not hillwalkers. Every little waterfall had half a dozen stubby, brightly coloured canoes waiting to take the plunge and the grass verges were full of cars and people camping for the weekend. Despite the general air of busyness I was still confident of a quiet day on Beinn Maol Chaluim.

A large herd of red deer grazed close to the road as I parked the car just past Inbhir-fhaolain opposite the wind-ruffled waters of Lochan Urr. I momentarily thought of dropping down from the road to the lochside to take a photograph of the twin Buachailles of Glen Etive with the loch as a foreground but being an extremely lazy photographer decided, conveniently, that the light was too flat. And it was. Dark clouds just tickled the summits of the highest peaks and it felt unseasonably cold. There was a greyness in the day that suggested that winter hadn’t quite yet finished with us.

Despite the chill it didn’t take long to get sweating on the lower slopes of Creag na Caillich, en route to Beinn Maol Chaluim’s southern ridge. The slope is unrelentingly steep but the upside is that you can gain height quickly and within twenty minutes or so I was getting a hint of what the views were to be like later in the day. The twin Buachailles looked magnificent and behind me the steep slopes of Stob Dubh fell into the glen in one scree-scarred curtain. Further down the glen I caught the silver sparkle of Loch Etive, trapped in the cleft between triple-topped Ben Starav and Beinn Trilleachean.

Once you reach the broad south ridge of Beinn Maol Chaluim only a steep, short and sharp climb separates you from the magnificent high level ridge that leads to the summit. Although steep, it’s straightforward enough until you reach the top of it. There, the summit ridge is protected by a long wall of vertical red phorphyr. You can avoid these crags by traversing right for some distance but there are one or two breaches in the wall where even non-scramblers can clamber through. Beyond it some minor tops leads to the summit ridge itself, which is pleasantly narrow and today, fringed with snow.

What a marvellous high-level romp this produces – on one side steep slopes lead to another ridge that connects with the Munro of Sgorr na h-Ulaidh and on the other side even steeper slopes drop down into the bare fastness of Gleann Fhaolain, the narrow glen that separates Beinn Maol Chaluim from the Bidean nam Bian massif.

I had harboured some tentative thoughts about descending into Gleann Fhaolain, climbing steeply to Bidean, following its ridge east to Stob Coire Sgreamhach before descending back into Glen Etive, but dark clouds obscured the Bidean tops and there appeared to be a dusting of new snow on the higher tops. Discretion being the better part of valour (I didn’t carry an ice axe) I loitered for a while beside the two summit cairns, dropped down out of the wind for a scenic lunch break, then returned to Glen Etive the way I had come. As a reward the sun shone for a while on the descent illuminating some of the finest views you’ll see in this magnificently mountainous part of highland Scotland. And was the hill as quiet as I expected?  No, not quite. I saw three other people. 

Photo: The Buachailles and Glen Etive from the slopes of Beinn Maol Chaluim

You can read a fuller report on what happened to Ken Knight, experienced blind hiker and TGO Challenger right here

Delighted to hear that Ken’s been found alive and well. He apparently walked out of the woods under his own steam and is currently in hospital getting a checkover. He might even make it across here for the start of the Challenge on Friday!

Looking forward to hearing his story - being lost in somewhere like the Appalachian woods for a week must have been rather traumatic, particularly for someone who is only partially sighted. However, as I mentioned earlier, Ken is a pretty resourceful guy who deals with his disability incredibly well. Well done Ken, delighted to hear you’re safe and well!

Very concerned at the moment about the welfare of a friend, an American backpacker who took part on last year’s TGO Challenge. Ken Knight, who many of last year’s Challengers will remember, was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail when he went missing last Sunday. He had been complaining of feeling unwell, and was slower than his companions. When he didn’t turn up in camp that night they became concerned. When he didn’t show up for his flight back home next day they became even more concerned. It would appear there is a big SAR excercise underway on that section of the AT right now and any other UK friends of Ken can follow progress on Backpacking Light.

I interviewed Ken last year for the DVD we were putting together about the Challenge and despite being visually impaired Ken appeared to be an experienced and resourceful lightweighter. He is one of backpackinglight.com’s editors. He was due to begin this year’s TGO Challenge next Friday. Finger’s crossed for some better news soon…