Summer Snow, Silence and the Strength to turn back
INOV8 ambassador and Munro-obsessed fast-hiker Nic Hardy shares a tale from one of her Munro bagging adventures. There are 282 Munros, which are Scotland’s mountains above 3,000ft, and Nic, author of Peak Bagging Munros: Volume 1, tells the story of how she approached some of the remotest mountains in the list.
I hopped off the train with a large pack on my back and a smaller day pack on my front carrying everything I needed for a long weekend at a remote hostel. The hills stretched endlessly in front of me as I stepped off the train at Corrour, Britain’s remotest railway station and began a Munro Bagging trip which would humble me and showcase the power of both adventure but also restraint.
It was early June 2024 and I based myself for two nights at the marvellously off-grid Loch Ossian Youth Hostel. Nestled on the south-western tip of Loch Ossian, the hostel is accessible only on foot from the station or by a long cycle or walk from somewhere like Rannoch or a spot along the A86. Standing on the water’s edge, this place instantly invites you to slow down and breathe in the stillness, far away from traffic noise. The eco hostel with compost toilets and a log-burning fire at its heart feels a world away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
My first day would be a decent warm-up – an ascent of Cà rn Dearg and Sgòr Gaibhre, my second day a long 33km hike with 1,375m of ascent over three Munros and my last day would be a short and sweet ascent of Beinn na Lap, a solitary Munro which can be walked just before catching the train home.
After the first day I returned to the hostel feeling strong and quickly fell into conversation with a group of cyclists over mugs of tea and trail snacks. I love the camaraderie in places like this, you arrive alone but you don’t have to be lonely.
My second day would prove unforgettable. I set off early, my INOV8 boots crunching on the damp gravel track along the southern edge of Loch Ossian. The birds were in full song, sitting in the trees but also wheeling over the water of the loch. Visually, the atmosphere was moody with part mist and part light and it was cooler than the previous day.
I was heading for Beinn Eibhinn, a remote Munro often climbed together with Aonach Beag and Geal-Chà rn. Some walk this trio from the Dalwhinnie side but my preference is to walk them from Corrour. Either way it is a long and committing slog, but having the warmth and safety of the hostel to return to counts for a lot.
I got into a good striding rhythm as I walked along the edge of the loch, a fantastic long warm up before the steep climb would begin. As I left the trail and began the pathless climb up Meall Glas Choire, things changed. Quickly.
The temperature dropped noticeably as the wind picked up and snowflakes – yes, snow, in June – started drifting down. Within minutes I was engulfed in a whiteout. Visibility shrank to a few metres and every familiar contour of the mountains vanished behind a smooth, featureless white. I’ve hiked in snow plenty of times before, but being alone in whiteout that wasn’t forecasted is disorientating and unnerving in a way that is hard to explain. The wind dropped and everything was silent. I felt very alone indeed.
I pressed on slowly, checking my bearings regularly and being thankful for the non-technical terrain and fairly gentle slopes. When I reached the summit of Beinn Eibhinn, the cloud lifted briefly to reveal Aonach Beag and Geal-Chà rn majestically wearing their white winter coats.
As I snapped a few photographs I knew that continuing along the narrowing ridge would be unwise. The two Munros felt like they were in touching distance but continuing felt reckless so I made the difficult – but right – decision to retrace my steps. It’s always disheartening to turn back on a plan but when adventuring, it’s essential to have an escape plan and now was the time to move to Plan B.
I followed my own footprints back to the valley floor which was oddly comforting and gave me a physical thread to cling to in an otherwise blank landscape. I thought a lot about the balance between adventurous spirit and safety. I carry a Garmin InReach Mini on the outside of my pack which is an emergency satellite communication device. I hope never to need it, but phone signal is all but non-existent on a route like this and this little orange and black box could be lifesaving one day.
This trip was a reminder that solo adventures don’t have to be epic in scale to be meaningful and you don’t even need to reach your objective. As long as you get back safely to tell the tale then you’re winning. The next day the snow melted, summer resumed and I was on to my next adventure.
- In the wake of finishing a full round of the Munros in 2019, Nic had been busy researching and writing her first guidebook Peak Bagging Munros: Volume 1 which can be ordered now. The routes mentioned above can be found in the Corrour hub chapter.
- Author note – this is INOV8’s dedicated link for orders - https://bit.ly/4jjijfs
