Stefan Durkacz dons his sunhat for a return to ‘hill of the mist’
THERE’S A PIVOTAL POINT in the journey north through Perthshire where the A9 sweeps round a bend high above the River Garry and the Pass of Killiecrankie, and straight away you know you’re in the Highlands. The great, squat pyramid of Carn Liath swings suddenly into view. Well over the magical Munro height of 3000ft, it always provokes a rush of excitement regardless of the eventual destination. What many travellers probably don’t realise is that, far from standing alone, Carn Liath is just an outlier of the finest mountain massif in the southern Highlands, Beinn a’ Ghlo. It’s only one of three Munros in the range, and
the shortest one at that.
Beinn a’ Ghlo is the consummate walker’s mountain. There’s no scrambling or bad steps here; just elegant, easy ridges hiding deep glens and heathery corries in their folds.
I’d recommend it for a first longer expedition for those with a few Munros under their belts. There is a caveat, though: the massif is complex and in poor visibility there is scope to go astray on the wrong ridge or spur. The summits are well served by clear paths, but careful navigation may be needed.
My only other visit, in November 1988, was just such a challenge. My dad and I plodded around in the clag, descending through a rising gale and sleet at the day’s darkening end. Today’s trip in early spring sunshine couldn’t have been more different. I’d been hoping for Alpine snow conditions, but even from below it was easy to tell there wasn’t much up there to write home about, so axe and crampons were stashed behind the hut where the path to Carn Liath leaves the main track. The path up Carn Liath has long been an ugly scar visible for miles, but since I walked this route much work has been done on it thanks to the Mend Our Mountains initiative.
The hills were busy with people enjoying a first taste of sunny warmth in months. Beinn a’ Ghlo – ‘the hill of the mist’ – was a convivial place. Reflecting on my first experience here brought it home to me that no mountain is ever the same place twice. Sweeping ridges and dry, fast walking took me past Carn Liath to the second Munro, Braigh Coire Chruinn-bhalgain (‘upland of the hollow of the round blisters’). After lunch at Bealach an Fhiodha I angled up to Carn nan Gabhar, the range’s highest summit. There was almost a party atmosphere at the cairn; someone said my sun hat was the first they’d seen this year.
I descended via Airgiod Bheinn – ‘silver mountain’ – well named for its scree, which required careful footwork; the descent is quite steep. It was warm by the cheerful chuckle of the Allt Bealach an Fhiodha, so I brewed up and lay back awhile before the long tramp back to the car.