The weather was pretty bleak when we eventually set off. I couldn't believe how busy the route was - we were starting on the tourist path up the Ben. It was pretty thankless and unappealing for the most part. Eventually we beared to the left where the hoardes bore right and found ourselves more alone. As we rose to the point where we reached the mountain rescue hut the weather had got bleaker still. The wind was up, as was the rain, but the visibility was way down. I warned Steve that if I didn't like the look of the arete when we actually got to it, I wouldn't want to proceed. Steve's risk assessment is decidedly less operationally alert than mine...
The ascent up to Carn Mor Dearg from the rescue hut is pretty steep and gruelling and due to the scree base which you're going up, not without risk. But eventually we reached the top. I was really starting to be concerned that I wouldn't want to proceed, but I was fine to proceed to the point where the arete got sharp so that we could make a proper assessment. Particularly bearing in mind that the walk back to the car would be quite problematic - i.e. we'd either need to descend by the exact same path (which would be very steep and would take a long time), or we'd need to find a more direct way back (which might not be possible).
As if to demonstrate just how bad the visibility was, Steve nearly walked us off the side of the cliff - only stopped by me saying that he was going the wrong way (and him insisting that he wasn't). Eventually we got to the arete - I wish I'd take a photograph because it looked the edge of the world, a place where vikings would have gone to worship the gods. Visibility was down to about 30ft, the arete was sharp as hell, and the top of it was small, loose, wet, angled rock. I took one look and turned straight round, Steve didn't even try and convince me (not that he would have tried anyway).
Fortunately,the way back wasn't too difficult, we essentially retraced our steps, but took a less direct route down the gully to the path. Steve was clearly disappointed that we'd not proceeded, partly because it would have been a much quicker route. However, I was absolutely resolute that it was the right thing to do, and I think he agreed, reluctantly.
I'd bought some walking sticks for the trip and my knees were glad, especially by the time we rejoined the tourist path, for the steep descent. Steve's knees really started giving him some grief though. Stubbornly he refused to borrow one of my sticks.
We eventually made it back to the car and went straight to the Clachaig Inn. We'd missed last orders for food and there was a band on - it was too packed to even get a seat. Steve was so tired he couldn't even finish his beer. We'd put our gear in the dry room, but 20 minutes of drying didn't achieve much. It was continuing to piss it down outside. I regretted not putting my tent up earlier when I had the chance!
At this point I was very near to just jumping in the car and going home. Only 2 things stopped me - 1) it wouldn't have been very fair on Steve and 2) we looked at the weather forecast on the board and it looked like things were going to get a bit better over the next few days.
Luckily I felt better when my tent was up and I was in dry clothes and a warm sleeping bag.
Munro - Carn Mor Dearg
GPX File
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