Orchy by David Lintern

munro-bagging

The House o f t h e Fat h e r , in the Glen of the Mother

Deep in the belly of the Highlands, there lies the shrine of Tigh nam Bodach, the oldest surviving remnant of Celtic ritual in Europe. The Munros that surround it are usually walked from the Bridge of Orchy, but as David Lintern found out, there’s more than one way to approach a ‘bagging’ weekender

On Beinn Dorain looking towards Auch Corbetts

munro-bagging

Celtic Connections

A very draughty Rannoch Moor from the Great Wall of Rannoch

Photos: David Lintern

There are many links between the Scottish hills and glens and the extraordinarily rich tapestry of Celtic lore and tradition. Family features prominently: there are at least ten Am Bodachs in Scotland and 15 A’ Chailleachs. Sometimes they face each other, as in Glen Einich in the Cairngorms. Although ‘Cailleach’ refers to an old woman and ‘Bodach’ old man, these folk are not called ‘old’ in any derogatory sense but rather as a mark of respect, as patriarchs and matriarchs. Some were however more sinister, such as the Chailleach Bheur, the female equivalent of the Grey Man of Ben Macdui, an evil hag who is said to haunt Schiehallion (itself associated with legend as the “Fairy hill of the Caledonians”). Sithein for fairy is a common hill name element throughout the Highlands and you will also find fairies on Doon Hill near Aberfoyle, where the little folk are said to have spirited away the local minister, the Rev Robert Kirk, and held him prisoner. Animals are also common in hill names. In Drumochter Pass the Boar of Badenoch faces its southern neighbour, the Sow of Atholl, daring her to invade his territory. The original Boar is said to haunt the hill which carries his name. The spring festival of Beltane, when fires were lit on hill tops to mark the changing of the seasons and in the hope of a good harvest, is associated with a number of hills, perhaps most notably Ben Ledi above Callander. However, the hill’s supposed derivation as Beinn le Dia or “Hill of God” is now discredited. The Glen Coe area has several associations with the mighty Celtic warriors known as the Fingalians: Sgorr nam Fiannaidh is the “Peak of the Fian warriors” and high above the glen is Ossian’s Cave, named for Fingal’s son, a noted Celtic bard. Glen Etive is linked to the tale of Deirdre of the Sorrows, a Celtic princess whose life was shadowed by tragedy.

Why go in to the so-called Bridge of Orchy

A few smallish stones, smoothed by sitting Five from the east, down a single-track road via the longest glen in Scotland? For me, there were three for centuries in a riverbed, sat outside a reasons: because via Glasgow from Edinburgh is a long little stone shelter, with a wooden roof, way round on tedious roads; to scout the beautiful River along with one or two apples and a hardLyon for a future boating trip; and the most important reason of all, to pay my respects to the Tigh Nam Bodach. boiled sweet left by previous visitors This was why I’d driven the length of beautiful Glen Lyon, in Gaelic “the crooked glen of the stones”, once a Pictish stronghold and a fascinating place in its own right. I can’t remember the first time I heard about the little shrine of winter, and bring them out in the spring, making sure they face down Tigh Nam Bodach, but I do remember hearing about an addition to into the glen. the already extensive hydro works in the glens around Lyon, which Forget for a minute about the father figure – the main player in Celtic threatened to surround it with access roads and pylons. Thankfully mythology is a woman. Sometimes cast as a ‘hag’ or ‘witch’, the Cailleach that scheme had been put on the backburner, but I was keen to see was the divine feminine being responsible for the creation of landscape this special place for myself, and also to try out my brand new (second- and wild nature for non-Christian clans, migrating with their cattle twice a year in sync with those same seasonal shifts marked roughly by our present hand) mountain bike. It was the first time I’d used a bike like this to access the hills, and day Bonfire Night and May Day. There were many stories of Cailleachs it allowed me to cover a few kilometres of dull track in about a third across Ireland and Scotland, all of whom were powerful, shape-shifting of the time and effort it would have taken otherwise, justifying the forces of nature that might need to be placated with offerings and tributes. purchase of the bike in a single trip. It was the perfect solution for It’s important to note that for those who believed, the Cailleach was accessing remote hills from the ‘wrong side’. If you can't go your own not immortal – care was required. While those who offended her could be punished, they in their turn could also symbolically maim or kill way in the hills, where can you? I left the bike tucked away in a sheep fank, and followed the track this spirit of nature, through the taming of wild landscape. In Hamish’s on for a while. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I’d missed it, there Mountain Walk, Hamish Brown quotes Duncan Fraser’s book Highland it was, quite obviously the place. Barely a metre square, the unassuming Perthshire: “Tigh-nam-Bodach, living all her lone, Born of water, turned shrine doesn’t look like much if I’m honest, but it was certainly the to stone.” Then as now, the relationship between human beings and real thing. A few smallish stones, smoothed by sitting for centuries in elemental, unpredictable nature was symbiotic. I spent some time with mum, dad and daughter there. It didn’t feel a riverbed, sat outside a little stone shelter, with a wooden roof, along with one or two apples and a hard-boiled sweet left by previous visitors. lonely, more like a homely experience – quite ordinary and underwhelming, The Tigh Nam Bodach translates as the “House of the Father”, or in a way. I’m not sure what I expected, but I’ll confess that for me this was Old Man, and it sits in Gleann Cailliche, the “Glen of the Old Woman”. also a very personal pilgrimage. I had just discovered I was to become a There they both sit, mum and dad, keeping watch, accompanied by father to a daughter, a year or so after returning north to Scotland from their brown-haired daughter, Nighean. Folk music fans may know of a a very modest family exile on my mother’s side, a story that begins with beautiful traditional tune that takes her name. This tiny monument of World War Two and a migration to an RAF airbase at Biggin Hill. As wood and stone is still looked after by local people – in fact, not so long sentimental as it may sound, I won’t deny there was something in my ago, a Perthshire stonemason rebuilt the house and gave it a new wood visit around wanting to “plug back in” after escaping the flatlands of the and turf top hat. In accordance with the Celtic festivals of Beltane and London suburbs. This location seemed even more appropriate given the Samhain, the locals still tuck away the stone family into the house for news of a child we always suspected would be a girl. 34

T h e G r e at O u t d o o r s

June 2014

High theatrics as the sun sets on the southern spur of Beinn Achaladair

munro-bagging

Looking south to Cairn Hill from the ridge

The Bridge of Orchy Five The cluster of Munros collectively known as the ‘Bridge of Orchy Five’ are situated between Loch Tulla and Loch Lyon above the village of Bridge of Orchy, which has a train station and is the most popular access point for these mountains. Listed in the order in which David climbed them, they are: 1 Beinn a’ Chreachain (“Hill of the bare summit”): 1,081m/3,546ft 2 Beinn Achaladair (“Hill of the field of hard water”): 1,038m/3,405ft 3 Beinn an Dothaidh, (“Hill of the scorching”): 1,002m/3,287ft 4 Beinn Dorain (“Hill of the otters” or “Hill of streamlets”): 1,074m/3,524ft 5 Beinn Mhanach (Monk’s Hill”): 953m/3,127ft

I don’t believe in magic and I’m not religious, but I do believe that rituals can sometimes be useful in constructing our own personal narratives. As plain as it is, the Tigh nam Bodach remains one of the centres of the Celtic universe, the navel in the belly of the highlands. For me, it's a symbolic telephone line to our mountain forebears, a place of rare and unadulterated connection to our past. And given that this place is still standing, and that the little ceremony is still performed by locals, I’m clearly not alone.

Ceremony

is all very well, but I’m not going to stand on it. So, having paid my respects, it was time to move on. While I’m in the area, I thought, I may as well climb a few hills. Usually, when planning backpacking trips, I’ll cast around for an interesting area to walk in by consulting maps, books, going online, or all three. This time, I hadn’t set out to do the ‘Bridge of Orchy Five’ as a group – the visit to the shrine had taken priority. However I had then looked at the wider area on the

T h e G r e at O u t d o o r s

June 2014

map, had seen a loop that looked satisfying, and only later discovered the more usual round from the A82. I’d argue there’s some adventure to be gained by leaving the internet to last! Another advantage of doing it ‘my way’ was escaping the tyranny of paths and letting the contours dictate how and where I went. I climbed Beinn a' Chreachain straight up the side, dropping into a gully as a shower passed and then continuing up onto the conical summit. As I climbed, I looked back and noticed the fertile patch of grasses surrounding the little Celtic house, showing from afar where the shielings had once stood. It was cool on the summit, and I had left my colder weather gear at home. Now I have the luxury of living closer to the great outdoors, I like to mark the changing of the seasons with a walk, and this was that trip for this season's change. From here, it was a walk of broad grassy ridges, with huge, draughty views to the north over Rannoch Moor and beyond, to the Grey Corries and the Nevis range… following a line west into a slowly setting sun. The best parts weren't the bare and wind-blasted summits, but the rocky cols and bealachs in-between, where water pooled and the wind dropped enough for me to pause for a while. From Beinn Achaladair, the line of the ridge turns slowly south. Together with the previous Munro this hill forms a good part of the Great Wall of Rannoch, a vast area of rock which marked the boundary between the kingdoms of Pictish Alba in the East and Gaelic Dál Riada in the west. As the ridge narrowed, the sun set in a riot of oranges, creams and golds, highlighting the Auch Corbetts ahead of me and Glen Lyon Munros to my left, one shapely mound after another that I found it impossible not to compare to reclining bodies. Perhaps it was all that subconscious homage to fertility earlier in the day that put this in mind! We’re used to poets waxing romantically about nature’s delicate intricacies, but this was no-holds-barred theatrics – blackest cloud high above and grasses aglow below. High drama unfolded. I camped on Beinn an Dothaidh, overlooking Beinn Dorain, that conical summit that shouts the loudest after Tyndrum on the road to Fort William from Glasgow. It was just dark by the time I reached my pitch, and the winds from the moor fairly flew over that wall to the north, so I put up a few metres from the top. A heavy cloud-veiled sunrise in the morning lasted for an hour or so, and meant a chilly, earthy start

to the day, but I don't think I'll ever grow awkward terraces on the neighbouring Cairn bored of waking up under a sheet of tent Hill before topping out to sunshine and fabric and looking out over the hills with lunchtime. Sometimes straight up the side a breeze on my face and time measured isn’t the best or easiest way! out in breaths and heartbeats, small tasks The last part of the day was much and changing light. The food is still rubbish more straightforward. Descending east though, isn't it? above some crags overlooking the glen The following day was left for the last from whence I came gave me probably the two: ascending the eroded twin tops of best aspect to this otherwise uninteresting Dorain via a fun, slabby rock-strewn path top, before dropping down beside a really and then peeling away east along a lumpy wonderful burn cutting steeply through the arm to meet one of several Meall Garbhs rocks to the valley floor. Way off the beaten in the Highlands. Lower down, the hills track, these quiet places are the ones I savour Above are scarred by sheep grazing but this spur long after returning home: just sitting and A still lochan on the fun rocky walk up Beinn Dorain feels fine and rugged, and it gives excellent being still by wild water streamlets, dwarf Above views of the round. After a good deal of birch and rowan clinging to the water’s The Tigh nam Bodach and Beinn a’ Chreachain ankle-threatening heather I met a wild and edge too steep for grazing animals, before – the water stones can be seen outside the house beautiful burn flowing steeply downwards reluctantly heading down to find my bike over rock gardens, before contouring steeply and cycle out to the head of Glen Lyon. under the previous day’s ridge to avoid losing These are the moments to soak up. As plain as it is, the Tigh too much height. The Tigh nam Bodach is not hard to find, nam Bodach remains but you have to want to. However, I’d ask Finally I rejoined the track leading me to my final Munro of the Orchy Five: Beinn that you be mindful of local sensitivities one of the centres of Mhanach. I don't collect Munros (although and avoid the twice-yearly ceremony of the the Celtic universe, stones itself. That remains a private affair I don't exactly ignore them either), but I'm the navel in the belly for the people of the Glen alone. It’s also glad I stumbled up this last one, because it of the highlands said that "strange and terrible" things will would make a dull trip to revisit for its own sake should I ever start a bagging habit. It's a happen to those who disturb the peace of round and featureless hump and was painful the Cailleach. So, if you do go to visit the to get up, even with the aid of More Chocolate (capitals intended). house of the old man in the glen of the old woman, please go well, and I cut the corner a little too fine and ended up on some breezy and go softly. June 2014 T h e G r e at O u t d o o r s

5 more classic m u lt i - M u n r o wa l k s Challenge yourself on the long days of summer by walking or backpacking your way around some extraordinary circuits

The Fisherfield Six Although one of the six Munros was demoted to Corbett status in 2012, this remains one of Scotland’s finest big walks. Taking in some of Britain’s remotest mountains, within the area known as the ‘Great Wilderness’, it is often walked from Shenaval Bothy.

Photo: Dan Bailey

Photo: David Lintern

Ring of Steall

Photo: Emily Rodway

It is possible to make a full traverse of the 10 Munros in the Mamores, but you’re looking at around 35km underfoot. More manageable for lowly mortals is the classic Ring of Steall: Sgurr a’ Mhaim, Am Bodach, Stob Coire a’ Chairn and An Gearanach. With sharp ridges and fantastic variety this is a popular route but does suffer from erosion.

Five Sisters of Kintail The Kintail Forest north of Glen Shiel is home to a high ridge of mountains, of which five are marked on the map as the ‘Five Sisters’: Sgurr nan Saighead, Sgurr Fhuaran, Sgurr na Carnach, Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe and Sgurr nan Spainteach. This is a linear route of around 15km of high-level walking and you would need to make transport arrangements to join the two ends.

Ben Lawers group The Ben Lawers group includes seven Munros, from Meall a’ Choire Leith looping around to Meall Greigh. For the ambitious, the first can be omitted and the rest combined with the classic Tarmachan Ridge across the other side of Lochan na Lairige. And for an easier option (although still a big day out) try the most easterly five: Beinn Ghlas, Ben Lawers, An Stuc, Meall Garbh and Meall Greigh.

Photo: Chris Townsend

Cairngorm 4,000ers Photo: Emily Rodway

The Cairngorms are home to five of Britain’s six mountains over 4,000ft: Braeriach, Sgor an Lochain Uaine, Cairn Toul, Ben Macdui and Cairn Gorm itself. Probably the most well-trodden route over them all is that starting and finishing at the ski centre car park (34km) although in Ken Wilson’s classic book The Big Walks, he describes a longer outing starting at Whitewell, to the north-west, and covering a total of some 46km.

T h e G r e at O u t d o o r s

June 2014