The Glas Maol Four

A 20k Solo High Level Hike over the Glas Maol plateau

Early Autumn Sunrise from the Cairnwell Pass

The last outing was almost a month ago in the scorching heat amongst the Buchaille in Glencoe and I had been itching to get out ever since, a growing sense of shorter days and only very modest winter experience gave the next few weeks a 'race against the clock' feel. I read often of climbers and hikers who cannot wait for the snows to come but my experience is so limited that I'm not yet ready to make such bold statements. As always with solo's I plan routes carefully to avoid bad weather or complicated hikes (scrambles, steps or tricky navigation) and by all accounts Glas Maol fitted the bill.

This group of 4 summits is named after the highest of the group, Glas Maol at 3503ft which, on this route is the 3rd Munro of the day. Starting with Carn an Tuirc (3343ft), followed by Cairn of Claise (3490ft) and rounded off with Creag Leacach (3238ft)

Almost instantly I was feeling the strain and once again regretted the lack of fitness I undertook in between hills - I began what was now becoming the usual routine of berating myself for this along with promises to get my arse in gear more regularly. I even convinced myself this time that I would do it and not just say I'd do it (writing some 2 weeks after thsi walk I can safely say that I have once again broken this promise).

As is also usually the case I did get a bit of rhythm and stride eventually and managed to revel in the fact that I had made my 4am alarm and at just shy of 7am was almost on my 1st summit of the day. Carn an Tuirc is a stony dome-topped summit which, in the rising sun and howling wind had a very isolated feel this morning, despite it's proximity to the road. Despite being a fairly flat set of summits, the complexity if this range can make navigation tricky to the less experienced and I came unstuck on more than one occasion on this hike with the summits having several ways off in some cases.

Early Morning Inversion from Carn an Tuirc

As Breath stills our mind, our energies are free to unhook from the senses and bend inwards

This quote from Lyengar has always been one that stayed with my from my days studying Psychology at Uni and was very apt for today's walk. It's hard to explain but it's best described as that moment when swimming where you submerge yourself momentarily and all senses are closed off except the feeling of water and the sound of your heartbeat.

I've been reading recently about the growing 'Mountains for the Mind' campaigns and I have never made any secret that the hills give me a sense of purpose and peace, or thrill and achievement but rarely if ever have I sought to use them in a meditative way. This walk was no different to begin with and my approach to doing solo generally puts me on high alert, continually assessing the route, the map, the weather and the Plan B's should they be needed.

So why now, some 10 days later and writing this can I remember very little detail about this day? At some point I was happy the route was going to be OK, the weather was looking grand and the outward looking analyses and thought processes no longer had to be in 6th gear. I've always struggled to relax, and I mean 'really' relax and my body and mind were constantly at odds as to how to do this but today they managed an agreement of sorts.

I settled into a breathing and walking rhythm and the more that rhythm took hold, they less I took in of my surroundings. Of course, that head space doesn't empty but allows lots of thoughts in - work, money, holiday plans, children, partner - all come in a rush, jostling for time and space in your head but again, the breathing, the walking, the breathing, the walking......systematically things were put in order and sorted.

I don't remember too much detail of this walk but I do remember the sense of self and calmness as I came off the hills that day. I don't think the Mountains will ever give me the answers I'm looking for but simply just looking for them there might just be enough.

A small postscript

I may have mentioned in my previous Blog posts but I am one of those who always places a stone on a Cairn. When doing so I usually have a person in mind or soemthing to give a small thank you for. I never give it much, if any thought, in advance and it's usually whatever pops into my head at this time. On my final summit of Creag Leacach there is now a wee stone laid in memory of Jamie Frost, the husband of a colleague who was taken far too soon only a few weeks before this walk.