Wild Camping on eBothy Blog

cairngorms high camping

Mon, 16 Aug 2010 00:00:00 +0000

At long last our mutual diaries were clear and I met up with my oldest and bestest friend Allan, aka The Penguin, at the wee car park on the ski road and headed off into the wilds for a high camp on Braeriach. So it was down to the river, swollen with the interminable summer rain this year and up past Lapland, the reindeer station and along the excellent path to the Chalamain Gap. It’s an interesting name is Chalamain. Calman is the Gaelic for dove but it’s pronounced with the svarahbakti vowel, which means it sounds like calaman and I suspect it’s just been named after the peak directly above it, Creag a’Chalamain or rock of the dove, as Chalamain isn’t a real word on its own, meaning “of the dove”. So there must have been a colony of rock doves here at some point and rocky it certainly is.

sun sea and high camping in the blackmount

Mon, 12 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Winter over, 20c forecast and light winds, I jumped on the ferry on Friday afternoon and drove across to Fort William and down the road to Bridge of Orchy, hung a right and pootled along the single track road to Inveroran, aiming for my third last Munro, Stob a’Choire Odhair. Funny that. I’ve been up Stob Ghabhar at least three times but I don’t remember ever having been up its smaller neighbour. I remember one memorable traverse from the White Corries ski centre, along the Blackmount ridge at the end of winter in ‘89, meeting Rab the stalker on the way down Stob Ghabhar and having dinner with Rab and Jean at Clashgour, followed by a lift in their landrover to Bridge of Orchy for a night in the pub. They called Clashgour The Land of Milk and Honey and what a place it was. Superbly isolated near the headwaters of the Dochard glen, peering into remote mountains at the head of Glen Kinglass. I remember one night there, watching the picture on their wee telly turn all sorts of colours and shapes, twisting, dimming, turning green then purple then filling the screen, only to crumple back to a geometrical mess of psychedelic shapes. All this as the generator was playing up round the back, sending the voltage haywire.

pea soup with a wild camp ben avon and beinn abhuird

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 00:00:00 +0000

At long last, after too long away from big hills, I loaded the car with bike, panniers, tent and rucksack and headed for the southern ‘gorms. I’d attempted this same getaway about a month ago but the car failed to start as the starter motor finally packed in. So, with a new one fitted, a great forecast and bags of enthusiasm, I roared off into the sunset on the 4 hour trip from Skye to Braemar. The plan was to cycle up to Slugain lodge ruin, camp overnight on the Friday and then head round Ben Avon and Beinn a’Bhuird on the Saturday. New ground, new area, brimful of excitement. These were two of my last three munros and I was raring to get into the wilds again.