Luib Chonnal

The bothy of Luib Chonnal from the west

In 2016, I had spent an enjoyable evening with an old friend at the Invermallie bothy one snowy January weekend. Our original plan had been a visit to Luib Chonnal at the head of Glen Roy, but heavy snow during the daylight hours of the Saturday meant the single track glen road would become impassable. Fortunately there were a few alternative, lower level bothy options available, and Invermallie was a valid replacement.

In late 2018, we hatched a plan for another attempt to visit Luib Chonnal and pencilled in a date in February 2019. Keeping an eye on the weather, we kept other options open, such as Glen Buck or Staoineag (direct access off the A82) in case of a repeat of the 2016 snows. To our fortune (depending on the outlook), climate change or Global Warming had a severe effect on the Scottish winter of 18/19 so that February was recorded as the warmest month in the UK since records began. There was to be no snow risk to our visit.

Of course, there still had to be some precipitation to endure, and when we parked up at the Brae Roy road end, it was chucking it down. The windscreen wipers on at a steady rate. It was 2pm. After a few minutes of discussion, and eradicating the Plan D of heading back down the glen to a local (dry) hostelry to watch France play Scotland in the Six Nations, we donned boots and full waterproofs to set off.

The start of the walk passes the deserted Brae Roy Lodge, nothing happening other than a generator making a racket in an outbuilding. Thence onto a decent land-rover track over the Turret Bridge, and gradually east.

Turret Bridge in the rain

The rain was intermittent, so hoods were up and down a few times, but it wasn't windy and we made good progress. A couple of rivers were obstacles to cross, but we always found a dry option upstream of the track. Old friend took his time, since he was carrying a 10kg bag of coal in his pack but we were in no hurry. At the high point, the weather had cleared and we could see all the way east towards the Corrieyairick and the Monadhliath.

A couple of hundred metres short of the bothy, the LR track turned south towards the river, and a rough footpath headed directly across some very boggy ground. To the south, across the river the White Falls came into view looking very impressive. Beyond them, the ground rose gently up into the clouds of the Meagaidh massif.

The White Falls

We had a great night in the bothy, the upstairs room with the stove making a very comfortable place to spend the evening. Chilli and rice for dinner, followed by a Double Decker, and then a copious amount of Ballatines blended whisky.

The sun sets in the west, down Glenroy between showers. 

The following morning, with blue skies overhead, the rising sun shone brightly through the excellent Velux rooflights to wake us both. My head was surprisingly clear, perhaps still a bit pished but I was up and out to collect water for the stove soon enough. Porridge down the hatch, we packed up and set off on our separate paths. Old friend straight back out the way we'd come, me to horse over the two Corbetts to the north.

"How long do you think it will take you?" he said, presumably wondering how long he'd be waiting at the car.
After a quick glance of the map I made a guess at least 2.5hours, but depending on the ground conditions it could be much more. We bade goodbye and I set off at a trot up the ATV track to the north that ran parallel to the Allt Chonnal. The path crossed the river at a new bridge after 1km, so I continued over tougher ground. Eventually it was time to leave the river and start the cross-country ascent towards the lower Carn Dearg.

Unfortunately the ground here was the peat-hag wobbling morass that I'd heard of in the book. At one point I was faced with a 5metre wide, 100m long water filled gap of slop. Eventually after 60minutes I reached the summit cairn in a strong westerly wind. I grabbed a quick photo and spied my next summit to the north.

View down Glen Roy from Carn Dearg

I could see a figure on that summit, standing near the cairn. I knew it wasn't a trig pillar, and I could see it moving. I expected it was an early day walker who had come in from Brae Roy so assumed they'd be heading my way next. On my descent to the bealach, I kept an eye on the summit figure, but suddenly they disappeared. I never saw them again, and they definitely didn't come south.

During the descent, I was able to see the Teanga Mor which extends west from the summit of the northern Carn Dearg and was described by the Walkhighlands with "There are some extensive areas of peat hags to cross on the long, steady pull that curves round towards the summit of the northern Carn Dearg". It was clear these peat-hags were confined to the highest part of the shoulder. On the southern slopes it appeared featureless and grassy. I made a note to head that way on the descent. 

Dropping 200m into the bealach was unfortunate but necessary to continue to the second summit, and thirty minutes after the first Corbett, I was on the summit of the 2nd Carn Dearg of the day. The wind was keen here so I didn't hang around long, just enough to stuff a flapjack down my throat and a quick scan of the horizon. There were good views out to the west, Knoydart and Kintail prominent, but east was non-descript. 

West from Carn Dearg(2) between Ben Tee and Sron a Choire Garbh to Knoydart - guess the peak?

I set off jogging on the descent, remembering to keep to the left of the Teanga Mor and aimed for the 650m contour to traverse. As hoped it was very grassy and not a sign of any peat. I made fast progress and soon enough was able to start the knee-bashing, relentlessly steep descent back to Glen Turret, 300m below. I didn't want to repeat that in a hurry. I even slipped onto my arse once, and my ankles started to ache. A heavy pack and fast movement made it tougher than normal. 

I crossed a wooden Argocat bridge over the Allt Eachach and joined a rough ATV track that headed south towards Braeroy. This wee glen felt very remote, but there were lots of ruined shielings and remnants of houses dotted about. It would have been a lovely place to live in its time. 

I hit the tarmac and kept jogging, reaching the car with the waiting old friend after 3hours from the bothy.