B.O.W.W.O.W.

Beer of the Week:
Schiehallion, from our friends at Harviestoun brewery, is a crisp, hoppy lager that would have certainly ranked near the top of last week's special edition on Scotland's summer ales...if it were an ale. Imagine your favorite continental lager fused with a brisk wind off the heather and the citrus twist we'd expect from the makers of Bitter & Twisted. Then you'll have Schiehallion.

Whisky of the Week:
Balvenie 21 year - toffee, oaky, with hints of port and vanilla - a long dry finish. I believe this is the oldest whisky I've sampled to date (courtesy of Athole - Slainte Mhathe!).

Baggin' Stob Ghabhar and Stob a’ Choir Odhair

Jack Black Melby led a group of 9 (Me, Marco, Debbie, David, & Athole - from our last outing - along with newbies Muriel & Tim Downie, Neal Gibson, and Merry - Athole's cocker spaniel) on an expedition up the two aforementioned munros. From the Victoria Bridge, a couple miles NW of Bridge of Orchy, Jack & co. set out across the glen to begin our ascent of Stob a' Choir Odhair (pronounced STOB a CORee OOR). Click here to see a crude map with a' Choir Odhair at aproximately mile 3.5 and Ghadhar at aproximately mile 5.5. The morning was calm and overcast. We had hopes of it clearing, but the weather would only become more gray and wet, and the midges would only become more hungry and thick:
We followed the river west from Forest Lodge - an extravagant retreat for Victorian aristocrats, who came into the wilds of Scotland for to shoot things:

Turning north from the river, Jack guided our grubby group to the cloudy ridge of a' Choir Odhair:
After scouting the trail, Jack beckoned us onwards along the burns (a.k.a. streams) and falls:

Self-portrait:
"It's ok guys, the water is safe to drink," cries our fearless leader:
Tim Downie, working on a 'less gay-seeming' climbing pose:
Marco, Neil, and Debbie. Drive on. It don't mean nothin'.
Even Jack pauses to admire the beautiful scenery:
But there are munros to be bagged. We must press onwards:
...and upwards:
Always tending to his pack, Jack Black patiently waits while the stragglers make their way up the hill:
And onto the misty mountain top, Debbie's 99th munro in the bag:
Jack's 2nd munro in the bag - a modest number, but not a fair indication of his climbing experience and skill:
Munro number 4 for me, Stob a' Choir Odhair in the bag:
The group begins to question why they are being led into such miserably wet and windy conditions by an upstart. Uh oh Jack, I think they are planning a coup: Fortunately for Jack, the coming together of many heads and many voices only left them bumbling, confused, and blind in the fog. So they again resigned themselves to his direction - to take us down from one peak...
And up the next...
The climb to Stob Ghabhar (pronounced STOB GOOR) followed a narrow ridge that seemed to be highly exposed on both sides - though it was hard to tell in the thick fog:
The climb was challenging and more interesting than previous ascents. Too bad we could only see 30 feet in any direction:
Debbie celebrates her 100th munro:

Only number 5 for me. The mountaineering poses are really coming along though:Braving the elements and bagging the munros - Jack's mantra.
The long descent:

* Addendum: I think the chiggers got me...

Baggin' Beinn Achaladair & Beinn a Chreachain

Last Saturday some mates from Garscube invited me out for another day of hill-walking -- a chance to 'bag' a couple more of Scotland's 284 munros and thus bring my total to an unimpressive (though at least a beginning) 3. The day's walk, beginning near Bridge of Orchy just south of Rannoch Moor and Glen Coe, would take us over peaks of 1038 meters (Achaladair) and 1081 meters (Chreachain) in a duration of about 6.5 hours. Click here for a crude map of our route (Beinn Achaladair at aprox. 4 mile mark, Beinn Chreachain at aprox. mile 6.5, Cranach wood at miles 9-10.5). Setting out from Achallader Farm, from left to right, are David (Scotland's teacher-of-the-year), Athole (Garscube men's captain and Scotland's most-welcoming-to-red- headed-American-runners), Marco (the mad WHWer and bagger of all but 40-odd munros, many more than once) , and Debbie (ran the 95-mile WHW race while 10 weeks pregnant, going strong here at 18 weeks):Achallader farm - an old granary perhaps?
With the thick cloud-cover, I couldn't see what I was getting myself into ... thankfully:
The first part of the climb followed a cascading stream up a wet and muddy slope - perfect conditions for my not-so-water-proof Nike trainers:
The awesome views of waterfalls pouring out of the cloud-covered mountains made it difficult to both watch where I was stepping and take in the atmosphere:
The group presses on up the initial slope - still in the mild, calm conditions of the lower regions:
Perhaps the most scenic part of the climb (mostly due to the fact that, having not yet reached the clouds, one could still see further than 5o feet) - the stream is pretty neat too:

Almost to the first top, Athole and David charge ahead:
Higher, colder, windier - time to get serious, time to get the tommy on (i.e. put on one's stocking hat):
Debbie strolls along with Bambino Consani:
Reaching the first minor top, we were well into the clouds and vicious wind:
Atop the first peak --- Beinn Achaladair in the bag. The jocular mood a sign that pure exhaustion had not yet set in:
Descending along a steep rocky ridge on our way to the next climb:
After dipping just under the clouds, we begin the next ascent to Beinn a Chreachain:
A view across Rannoch Moor to the north - as bleak and hostile as a distant, lifeless planet:
The view across highland peaks to the south:
After climbing back into the clouds and up a steeper slope, our troupe arrives on Beinn a Chreachain (Debbie, David, and Marco):
Athole at the cairn:
Munro numero tres:
Though it was all down-hill from here, there was still more than two hours of walking in order to complete our circuit, and the descent was far more difficult than I was anticipating.

Looking down to the mountain lochs:


Marco, Athole, and Debbie on the way down the soggy slope:
Striking the mountaineering pose in front of Beinn Achaladair - the first of the two peaks we had just climbed. Our ascent was up the opposite side (out of view), while our descent was along the left ridge (I think):
We descended into the midge-invested Cranach wood - one of the few patches of scotch pine forest left in Scotland:

Back through the ghost-structures of Achallader farms, and the circle is complete.