Ben Lui (1130m) and Beinn a' Chleibh (916m), Argyll, Scotland
Introduction to the walk
Starting out for Ben Lui
A ford and a forest
Walking - then struggling - up to the bealach
Climbing Beinn a' Chleib
An icy ascent of Ben Lui
Taking care on the way down
Completing the walk
Lessons for winter climbing and equipment
Walking in the mountains often requires compromises to be made because of weather conditions, and this is a good example. Cedric (a former work colleague with whom I'd climbed Kilimanjaro) had planned a weekend away in early February to complete his round of all the Munros, with Ben More Assynt and Conival, up in Sutherland. A group of a dozen of us were all set to go on the Friday morning, but the plans were derailed by "Britain's worst snow in 18 years". London and many other parts of England had been hit by big falls of snow earlier in the week. Now it was the turn of northern and north-eastern Scotland.
Cedric had to postpone the trip, but as we had already set aside the weekend and looked out our winter walking gear, he suggested an alternative climb for the Saturday. The forecast indicated that the Western Highlands south of Lochaber should be less affected by further snow.
So that's why 8 of us gathered in Glenfarg at 8 am on 7 February, ready to head over to Ben Lui (plus its lower partner Beinn a' Chleibh). It's often climbed from the east via the long route up Glen Cononish, which has some striking views of one of Scotland's most impressive mountains. However, given the conditions, we were taking the shorter route from Glen Lochy to the west. There's a car park beside the A85 about 6 miles (10km) west of the junction at Tyndrum. We were fortunate that one of our party was Dave from Earnside Coaches, and we could all travel together in a minibus with plenty of room for our gear.
It was a couple of hours' drive from Glenfarg, via Perth, Crieff and Crianlarich, so there was time to start chatting to the others and getting to know them. We shared some walking experiences and the Kilimanjaro expedition was discussed a few times during the day.
After a loo stop at Tyndrum, by 10.15 we were in the car park (map ref 239278), putting on our boots and gaiters. There were rival offerings of flapjack to get us off to a good start - I'd made a batch ready for Ben More Assynt, and so had Tara. Just what you need on a cold day. It was still sub-zero with a thin layer of snow when we started out in the shaded glen, although the sky was clear and the twin peaks were in sunshine above the trees.
A path led through heather to the bank of the River Lochy and then to the right, along it for a hundred metres or so. Just before the Eas Daimh burn passed under a railway bridge to join the river on the other side, another group was completing their crossing. Cedric had mentioned this early obstacle to be overcome, as did the munro books.
Although the river is low and there are supposedly stepping stones, these aren't sufficient to give a dry passage across. There's apparently a footbridge a kilometre or so downstream but it might add at least 30 minutes to the walk. We were dithering a bit, but Cedric and Roger both had yeti gaiters on - the sort that fit tightly round the boots to give a watertight seal - and they offered to carry the rest of us over! This seemed an unlikely prospect since not everyone was a lightweight, but somehow they managed, before going back for the rucksacks and walking poles. Quite an achievement which we were all grateful for, as it would have been a miserable prospect to have started the climb with wet feet in freezing conditions. So we all started the walk with a warm - rather than a wet - feeling.
The next challenge was to get through the belt of forest stretching a mile up the lower slopes of Ben Lui and its partner, Beinn a' Chleib, which we also hoped to climb. Initially it was easy enough with a clear track through the snow-covered heather along the left bank of the Eas Daimh burn and we were all happily chatting away as we walked. To our right there were lines of icicles decorating the side of the burn and we caught glimpses of the mountain tops ahead. We were well sheltered among the trees and soon warmed up.
Then Cedric pointed out that we should be finding somewhere to cross the burn, and indeed the map confirmed this - about half a mile (less than a kilometre) from the river crossing. It looked like there was a path on the other side, but after we'd found a couple of rocks which allowed us to cross we realised this couldn't be the recommended route. Roger knows a bit about forests and took the lead, finding various breaks which we could walk along, but the low branches kept snagging on our rucksacks and the ice axes projecting upwards from them. Nevertheless it wasn't as impenetrable as some forests and we made it through to the upper edge, onto the open hillside.
Walking - then struggling - up to the bealach
There we were suddenly exposed to the cold wind. The other party was only a short distance ahead, and there was a guy on his own who chatted for a minute before setting off again. He had ended up with wet feet from the river crossing so he'd have to keep moving. We paused to put on some warmer gear and get our first view over the forest towards the shapely peaks of Ben Cruachan to the west.
Then on up the snowy slope, with patches of softer snow alternating with icy areas. We soon reached the fence enclosing the forest and found the purpose-built gap to squeeze through. The winds caught us on the other side and more outer gear was put on, with some difficulty.
It looked like the other party was heading straight up the rounded north-west ridge of Ben Lui, but we crossed over the flank of the hill towards the corrie - Fionn Choire - aiming for the bealach between the two summits. There was still some shelter here from the wind coming from behind us and we made fairly steady progress up through the corrie. However, we split into a faster group and a slower group of two, so that the faster group could aim to climb both peaks.
I was hanging on to the faster group, but when we started climbing the steeper slope up to the bealach we all started having difficulty coping with the ice. It wasn't totally solid, but still too hard to kick steps in. Ice axes were used for steps and stability, but it was still taking a long time and I certainly didn't feel confident of getting up safely.
The others had stopped ahead of me to put on crampons. I'd brought mine, although I'd carried them up many mountains in previous winters and couldn't remember the last time I'd actually put them on! Sheila gave me some encouragement so I dug a seat out of the ice, secured the rucksack with the iceaxe, swapped the ski gloves for a thin pair, and started fitting the crampons on the boots.
By now the others had moved on, and were well ahead up the slope. Sheila went after them and I was finally ready to follow. The crampons made an enormous difference (as anyone used to winter ice and snow climbing will know). Once I got used to the feel of them I regained my confidence and moved quickly up to rejoin the rest of the group. They were on the steepest final section, maybe 30 metres from the top, struggling against the wind. Ewan was the only one without crampons, and was having to cut steps. The closer we came to the top of the slope the windier it became, blowing us forward.
Then we were there on the bealach, with a view over the dazzling white landscape to the south over Coire Annaich, trying to find some shelter but without success. We moved down the other side a short distance and stopped for a short lunch break. I wandered further down to get a photo of the group, which was fortunate as Roger's lunchbox was carried away in the wind and I managed to field it. Cedric generously lent his crampons to Euan and then went back down with Tim. That left 6 of us to push on, all now with crampons, west towards Beinn a' Chleib.
I'd expected the wind to ease off away from the bealach but instead it became even more ferocious as we started climbing again. Fortunately the route was easy enough with no edges to fall off, otherwise it could have been risky as we were being blown sideways. My face was freezing in the blast of icy wind, but I couldn't stop to try and dig out a scarf.
Once again I had doubts about whether we'd get much further, but once we'd made the short climb onto the plateau the wind eased off and it became quite calm. It's weird how this can happen sometimes at the tops of the mountains - I remembered a walk many years ago, when it was calm on the top of Beinn Ghlas but too windy on the connecting ridge for us to get to the summit of Ben Lawers, so we had to turn back.
There was a great view back towards Ben Lui, brilliant white in the sunshine, and away to the line of mountains to the north. It was unusual to see everything was SO white, rather than snowy summits rising above darker slopes and glens below.
We had about 500m of plateau to cross to the summit, although there were three high points and it needed a check of the GPS to establish that the middle one was the highest. It was about 1.40 pm, so it had taken us 3 hours 20 minutes from the car park, slowed down by the icy conditions.
The wind had picked up again so we didn't hang around too long, turning back towards the bealach. Once again we were shaken by the blast of the wind on the way down, and Tara looked helplessly as one of her gloves disappeared over the edge. Fortunately she had a spare one, otherwise she'd have been in some difficulty. You don't want to be up there in those conditions without good gloves. Taking one off to get a few photos was bad enough, the fingers taking a few minutes to recover feeling again.
Roger wasn't feeling a hundred percent and decided to call it a day, setting off back down into the corrie. Fortunately he'd done Ben Lui before, and now he had added Beinn a' Chleib to his list of munros.
The process of attrition had left 5 of us (Dave, Sheila, Tara, Euan and me) to go on to the main challenge, the steeper climb up to the top of Ben Lui. The bealach was at about 770m, Beinn a' Chleibh just 916m, and Ben Lui a chunky 1130m, i.e. 360m still to climb, or well over 1000 ft. We still had time enough - it was just after 2 pm.
Nevertheless it took longer than expected with the effort of climbing in the snow even though it was mostly firm and icy. Euan had some trouble with the bindings on his crampons coming loose, but that gave us an excuse for a breather. We went straight up the broad ridge then surveyed the last few hundred feet above us and decided to swing round to the right to get a more gentle slope. Even this was steep enough and we took it slowly, knowing that a slip on the ice could send us sliding down a long way unless we were quick with the ice axe. Fortunately it was the same kind of ice with a rough crusty surface that the crampons could dig into easily, giving a good grip.
With the sun shining on us from behind, I saw my shadow on the snow in front, and I could almost imagine myself on a Himalayan expedition. There was something of the "Tensing on Everest" about it. That'll be the day. Anyway, it was certainly like being in another world - hard to believe a couple of days later, writing this at home.
Finally the gradient eased off as we approached the top where the rocks were completely encrusted in bumpy white ice. A raven sat resolutely on the highest bump and only lifted off, grudgingly, as we came within a couple of metres. There had been a couple of others flying around the summit - what on earth could they find to eat up there, in that icy world? Maybe they were on the look out for weaker, smaller birds that might fall victim to the weather - I suppose ptarmigan were a possibility.
This was the high point of the day so we took a bit longer to appreciate the view. By now it was 3.15 and still beautifully sunny, with sharp views in all directions. There was still a strong breeze, but less than before. The forecast had said it should ease later in the day and so it turned out. We couldn't see anyone else's footsteps in the snow, suggesting that the other group hadn't made it to the top.
There was quite a drop on the east side of the summit so we didn't get too close, and looked across at the lower northern top which we were planned to cross on the route down. It seemed a bit daunting, with the suggestion of a steep descent on the other side. Maybe we should go back down the way we'd come up from the bealach?
Dave set off ahead to recce the route, and we followed. It wasn't too bad, at least until we got round to the other side of the top. I'd thought we'd go over the next couple of tops on the way down the broad ridge before turning down into the valley, but Dave preferred the look of the route to the left, going below the next rise and then traversing down towards the corrie. The others seemed happy to follow, but I tend to be cautious on downhills as it is - even more so when it's basically a big sheet of ice at rather a steep angle! I thought about the importance of getting the balance right as I dug the side of the crampons in to the slope. This would be impossible to descend without crampons, unless you had a very strong (and long) arm to cut steps with the ice axe. At the steepest sections Euan and I both went down backwards, using our axes for security at head height as we planted the points of the crampons as firmly as we could below us. Euan did slip at one point, and demonstrated his mastery of the ice axe to arrest his slide.
It's interesting how people's pace on a mountain climb can vary. Going up, unless it's a technical climb, it's really largely down to stamina. Usually I manage pretty well there. Going down a steep slope it's more about skill and nerves, and I tend to fall behind!
Dave must have been getting a bit impatient waiting for us, but he didn't show it. The mountains to the north looked even more splendid in the late afternoon sun. We stopped again for a breather and as we were getting to a level where the dead grasses were sticking out of the snow in places, we decided to take off the crampons. I still had a couple of pieces of flapjack, and Dave accepted one. He seemed to regret his decision as the cold had made it almost unchewable!
The final stretch down to the forest wasn't as easy as it looked, as there were several wide patches of snow-covered ice to cross and the treads on my boots, at least, didn't give enough grip.
We were wondering where best to enter the forest to try to get onto the proper track, and the map showed we should aim for a corner. When we got there, beyond the fence, we still couldn't find it, so we had to scramble through the trees again until we were successful. This was much easier now, along the side of a burn, except for one particularly boggy section.
There was a relatively easy crossing of the Eas Daimh burn and a scramble up the other side to the main track. Sheila had stopped to take a photo back up towards the summit of Ben Lui, now standing out in the yellow evening light above the dark treetops. The moon was visible to the left.
(Heading up the glen, you'd need to look out for this junction of the two burns with a short steep descent to the crossing and the path on the other side. We'd managed to miss it.)
We walked down the final half mile or so back to the river. Maybe we should have phoned ahead to ask Cedric and Roger to come out in their yeti gaiters to carry us across? We needn't have worried. Although a bit of water got into the boots it wasn't too bad and we had a gentle walk back the short distance to the minibus. By then it was about 5.15 pm and getting quite gloomy, so we had just made it before darkness fell.
Looking back on the climb, it had been a challenging walk with a couple of critical moments where I doubted whether we'd make it, but that made the successful conclusion of it all the more rewarding. Cedric had picked a good route; anything with steeper slopes or narrower edges could have been tricky in the ice and the wind. Plus I'd met a new bunch of people as well, which added to the enjoyment.
Some lessons for winter climbing and the equipment required
Despite quite a few winter walks over the years, this was the first time I really had to be equipped for snow and ice work since I was a student on a visit to Glen Nevis around 1973. That was when I had invested in an ice axe and crampons at a specialist shop in the middle of Birmingham. Although I'd used the ice axe quite a few times, and carried the crampons in my rucksack, I couldn't remember wearing them again in all that time.
Now I was really glad of the crampons as I struggled on the ice up to the bealach, and the fact that I'd spent some time the previous day adjusting them so they fitted to my current pair of walking boots. Fortunately they were held on tightly by the straps even though the boots have flexible soles, and I was careful not to bend the toes whilst walking.
The long aluminium ice axe was just as important for security on the way up and, especially, on the way down. The others had more modern equivalents, and mostly shorter ice axes. Without them we couldn't have made the climb and that's probably why the other party which we saw at the start didn't seem to have reached the summit of Ben Lui.
Another relic of 36 years ago which was perfect for the conditions was my pair of thick tweed climbing breeches. In those days, Craghopper was still a lesser-known manufacturer of walking gear and I had bought these at Fishers in Keswick. Often the cause of amusement for others, I still think they are better than any modern "technical" equivalent I've managed to find. They are really warm and dry even when there's snow stuck to the outside.
To complement the ancient gear I had a modern windproof jacket, and this turned out to be perfect as well. Maybe North Face could use the same material to make breeches. With a long-sleeved thermal and a couple of micro fleeces underneath, I was cosy all day despite the sub-zero temperatures and the wind. The Goretex waterproof which is needed at some stage on most walks in Scotland stayed in the rucksack.
Less satisfactory was the headgear, a hunting-style hat with ear flaps, which was fine for the cold but couldn't protect my face from the bitter wind on Beinn a' Chleib. If I'd known what it was going to be like, I'd have pulled out the scarf from the rucksack and wrapped that around my face. By the time the wind really hit us it was too severe to stop and adjust clothing.
As mentioned in the story, gloves were also essential and I was lucky to have found my son's Salomon Goretex skiing gloves that he'd left at home. These were much better than regular fabric gloves that feel warm on a chilly day around town. When you're walking with a metal ice axe in one hand in the cold wind, your fingers can soon go numb. Mind you, I suffered for my indulgence in photography, and lost feeling in my fingers for a few minutes every time I took off a glove for a quick photo. It was worth having the thin thermal gloves as well. They made all the difference when fitting the crampons and having lunch, but would have been too fiddly to put on for each camera shot.
This was also the first time on a hillwalk that I'd used the Garmin Foretrex 101 GPS gadget which I'd been given for Christmas. Although not specific to winter conditions, it's useful to have in case it's needed. On such a clear day all I used it for was to check the location of the summit of Beinn a' Chleib, but I should have used it to help find the trail through the forest as well. That's another lesson for the future. It's not one of those expensive ones with a memory card packed with OS map graphics, but it fits on the wrist, gives an accurate grid ref and approximate altitude, indicates the direction of travel and has a "breadcrumbs" function in case you need to retrace your steps. Also it's suitable for running, to check the distance and know where you are. I really need to spend time trying it out on an easy walk to get used to it.
We did try practising using our ice axes to stop us sliding down a slope, but only AFTER we'd descended from Ben Lui. It's worth doing, to find out how to hold the ice axe and avoid impaling yourself, or failing to stop the slide, or both! However, we picked a sheltered spot where snow had gathered and it was too soft for the ice axes to get a grip, so we just ended up covered in snow! Really we should have tried this early in the walk, but we were caught out by the ice on the way up to the bealach.
This all reminds me of the old Boy Scouts' motto - Be Prepared!
Contributed by Andrew Llanwarne - February 2009
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