Meall a’ Bhuachaille

Last day in the Cairngorms, we had to knock out a mountain. We chose a Corbett. The tallest of the Scotland mountains are known as Munros. To qualify as a Munro a mountain must be over 3,000 feet (remembering that we are starting at sea level, you western US mountain people). They number 282, and are named after Hugh Munro, the first person to compile a list of them in 1891. “Munro bagging” is a thing, and to date over 6,000 people claim to have bagged all 282. Corbetts are next, which are between 2500 and 3000 feet, named after John Rooke Corbett, who originally listed them – and interestingly, in 1930 he became the fourth person, and first Englishman, to bag all the Munros. Lastly are the Grahams (2000-2500 feet), named after Fiona Torbet (née Graham) who was a passionate hillwalker and, you guessed it, created a table of the most wee mountains. In a bizarre twist of fate, Fiona was gruesomely murdered in 1993 by Donald Jr, the son of the owners of the Western Highlands bed and breakfast she was staying in. The 400-hour search for her was one of the most intensive ever mounted in the Highlands as helicopters took aerial photos of the area and the Royal Navy dredged a Loch near the B&B. Nine months later, when the snow melted, some of her personal items were found under a tree on the grounds of the B&B. Finally Donald Jr confessed.

Our lovely B&B hosts, who have never murdered anyone, recommended Meall a’ Bhuachaille. Kev said that during the pandemic he walked it every day to clear his head.

We started the hike full of happy anticipation, only to be met with a very, very steep situation. Even so, we came upon (very fit and/or nuts) people running and mountain biking the vertical, switchback-free slopes. This is irritating when one is operating in drag-ass slogging mode. And by the way, I can hear you thinking that I must be exaggerating. We ascended 1600 feet in about a mile. The gnarliest hike in our neck of the woods is South Sister, where the ascent is 4,900 feet in 5.5 miles. You do the math.

From a distance, and as you can see from the photo below, our scree-trained eyeballs thought the Cairngorms quite reminiscent of the red cinder cones of Central Oregon. This being Scotland, though, of course it’s not volcanic scree, but rather – carpets of heather. Stop it, Scotland.

So I shall skip any further unpleasantness that may have been associated with the climb and say that the summit was reached in due course, which always makes the effort utterly worth it. The top was a windy place. A large cairn served as a shelter. The views were stupendous.

On the way down we came across a bothy in a beautiful valley. Bothies are located in remote spots throughout Scotland. They were originally rural cottages that have outlived their original purposes and now are kept unlocked for hill walkers to take shelter or stay overnight without charge. The Mountain Bothies Association, established in 1965, is the charity that maintains them.

The views were lovely all the way back to the car, as we hiked through a beautiful valley to a loch, coming upon many hikers and dogs out for a Saturday adventure. Mostly Scots and some Norwegians. We might have been the only Americans on the mountain. As it should be.