As some of you many have picked up from my other threads and posts (e.g. http://singletrackworld.com/forum/topic/ben-lui-wild-camp-in-a-storm-pics, Mrs Peterfile and I tend to spend a lot of time camping and climbing in the Highlands.
Firstly, apologies for the length of this post, I typed it on the train on my way to a meeting, so had a few hours to myself.
There's a bit of background to this particular trip which I feel is perhaps necessary to help readers understand my emotional state last weekend, which had a significant impact on the trip itself, however I don't want to sound like the sob story contestant on the X Factor so I will try to keep it brief. Skip the next few paragraphs if you just want the trip report!
On New Year's Eve this year, I was at a family wedding in Manchester (my cousin is the drummer in a getting-quite-famous band and they had just returned from tour, so the date seemed appropriate). There was one person inexplicably missing from the wedding/party, a relative, but more than that, a close friend. His wife found him hanging in the loft in the early hours of New Year' Day, leaving behind three children. The man that ought to have been the life and soul of that party, now had neither (unless you believe in Heaven I suppose, in which case his soul is enjoying a pint as I type this). He had been through a lot in the past 12 months, but I took this news harder than any blow Tyson could have delivered.
I went ice climbing up North a couple of weeks ago, and the extent that it had affected me became all too apparent. I had no strength to plant my axes, no coordination and even when I mustered enough energy to swing in the right places, anger and frustration ensured that I only ended up dislodging huge chunks of ice on my poor belayer's head. Not a good day out.
So, the funeral was last week, I said my final goodbyes and promised myself (and Drew) that I'd stop being "such a miserable wee fanny", as he would have so eloquently put it 
300 people crammed in the small parish church and another 200 stood in the cold outside. They closed the entire quarry he worked at for the day to allow all his colleagues to attend.
Refocus.
Believe it or not, it was a fellow STWer's words which echoed in my head as I packed my climbing kit for our trip to the Arrochar Alps after the funeral…"Scotland in Winter is one of many great experiences that makes one glad to have a life and resolve not to waste it." Thanks for that mugsys_m8, it was the jolt back to reality that I needed. You see folks, there is some good stuff on here 
Saturday 14 January
The plan was simple. Hike up the "easy" path from Succoth (next to Arrochar at the head of Loch Long), find a suitable camping spot to the North of The Cobbler at around 650m, (around 2,000ft), pitch the tent and dump all the heavy kit and then nail The Cobbler before sunset.
Problem number 1 - although the zig zag path up to 650m is well maintained, it's a true 650m of climbing, since you start from sea level. The Arrochar Alps are often underestimated by most in winter due to their relatively southern location in the Highlands, however it carries the same risks and unpredictability as any other Scottish area. This meant carrying some "we might need" kit, such as drinking water (in case everything was frozen), ice axes and crampons etc. That stuff weighs a lot. The slog up to the end of the maintained path and past the North face of The Cobbler was tough on the legs. This picture, taken just before we set off from Succoth, was the last time Anna smiled until we pitched the tent!
Problem number 2 - although the weather was in some respects "perfect" for January (only just below freezing, light winds, relatively dry and limited ice and snow on the maintained path to 650m), visibility was not good at all. Normally not an issue (unless you're only climbing for the views, or can't navigate very well), it did make finding a suitable site to pitch the tent very difficult. We wanted to pitch away from potential rock and snow falls, we wanted a good view down the glen for sunrise, we needed relatively easy access to water for cooking, we wanted a flat pitch and we wanted to be out of sight of the main climbing routes up the three surrounding mountains. Try doing that when you can't see 20ft in front of you!
Spot the tent
It wasn't flat, but it did have most of the other things we needed/wanted. The view….well we'd just have to keep our fingers crossed on that one. MWIS promised a clear day on Sunday, so we had at least a little hope.
With the tent pitched and all our sleeping kit ready for us to just jump in at the end of the day, we decided to hit The Cobbler. Heading South back along the main path we opted for the scramble up the East side at around 1pm. On our way up we were passed by many, many people advising us of "treacherous" conditions and an "impenetrable" route to the summit and that we should turn back. The Arrochar Alps are only an hour away from Glasgow, and as such, along with the easy access path up from Succoth, it attracts a number of people who perhaps don't have much experience on the mountains. That's not a bad thing, but you have to take the advice of someone who is climbing in Scotland in winter wearing jeans and a Superdry jacket with a pinch of salt We decided to continue until WE felt that the conditions no longer justified us continuing, or we bumped into a guide or someone of equivalent experience who confirmed what the leisure walkers were telling us.
The scramble was great fun. We nailed it in excellent time. Visibility aside, the conditions were excellent provided you remembered you were scrambling up a mountain in winter! There was ice, but it was avoidable. The main issue was the snow. Not enough to justify crampons, but plenty of snow holes and instability to mean that you occasionally fell through up to your thighs. No big deal, we were on the main path, I wasn't expecting to fall 100ft. (Although Anna did manage to find the 1,000ft drop where there had been a recent avalanche! See the last photo in this group).
As with Ben Lui last month, my duty to look after Anna's well being (and my own desire to live to climb another day) meant that we didn't properly reach the summit (i.e. threading the needle). The conditions just didn't warrant it. Neither of us cared anyway This is what it looks like on a clear day in summer, so you can imagine doing it in limited visibility and ice/snow in winter!
Just below the summit we had to decide whether to scramble back down the route we had ascended (not particularly appealing and would add on at least an hour to our journey back to the tent compared to the alternative), or descent via the North face which would lead us straight back to the tent. Again, a number of self-styled mountaineering experts told us the North route was impenetrable at the moment, but we had enough time to give it a bash and turn back if their stern warnings proved to be true. Turns out we could almost jog down the descent and were back on the main path in 20 mins Ah, the beauty of being able to ignore advice!
We walked the last 15 mins across the rough ground back towards the tent, which was easier to find since the fog had lifted below 700m.
Ah there it is!
Definitely not the flat pitch I had hoped for, but at least we now knew we picked the right spot for some awesome views at sunrise if the weather cleared
With the sun making its way to the other side of the hemisphere for the day (although the only way we knew this was happening was by checking the time, we hadn't seen the sun all day!), we cracked out the stove and got some hot food on the go. It was consumed in 1/10th of the time it took to boil water with gas at 2,000ft in the middle of winter! We did have a nice sheltered kitchen though, which saved cooking in the porch and eating in the tent (which we both hate).
As darkness set in, so did the cold. Neither of us are strangers to cold camping trips, but we both really started feeling cold right through to the core at around 5pm, despite a multitude of hi-tech layers. So we made the decision to retire to our lodgings for the evening. As some of you who read my previous report on our Ben Lui wild camp, we like red wine, so much so that it accompanied us on this trip too (although we decanted it into an empty soda bottle to save some weight!). With the wine consumed, all food eaten and us in our sleeping bags (which were zipped together), we noticed something unusual…the slope seemed to be getting worse. We were positively sliding to one side of the tent. A quick check confirmed my fears…we had pitched on an area of relatively loose ground/peat, and it was giving way under our weight. I wasn't worried about it collapsing, but it did make for quite an uncomfortable night's sleep (although it did make for some very amusing hanky panky )
Sunday 15 January
After a restless night (but in actual fact, quite a bit of sleep), I got up just before sunrise to get some hot food on the go. According to the Suunto, it was only -3, but definitely felt a lot colder without the warmth of the sun's rays and having just come out of a winter sleeping bag with a warm girl wrapped around me for the best part of 14 hours!
I tried my hardest to capture the beauty of the sunrise we were treated to, but my camera and more importantly, camera skills, just were not up to the task. So this was the best I could come up with…
We then struck the tent (the outer of which was frozen solid!) and hid all our heavy gear in our "camp kitchen", ready to be picked up later.
By the time we had finished breakfast the fog had started to make its way back across the peaks. After cursing MWIS for a few minutes, we decided Beinn Narnain would be our target for the day. The main problem we faced today was the substantial frost which, along with the poor visibility, made finding and keeping to the path pretty tricky. Even when we did keep to the path it was very, very icy. Those of you who have climbed Narnain will know that it's not a mountain you want to stray too far in the wrong direction on…plently of nice big cliffs to fall off!
We fudged our way to the summit in pretty quick time, took the obligatory photo and started to make our way back down. We got lost three times before I admitted defeat and pulled out the GPS. It was just too cold, underfoot too dangerous and visibility too poor to justify trying to fudge our way down. We passed no one on the way up and no one on the way back down. Too cold for the leisure walking brigade perhaps? It must have been a surprise that it gets cold up here in January
A few pics…
After getting back to the main path, we trekked over to pick up our heavy kit and made the journey back down towards Succoth from 650m. Although climbing with heavy kit takes its toll, I personally take a real beating going downhill with any weight on my back. My knees feel like they are going to explode. Fortunately the gradient is gentle and the path well maintained, so it could have been worse.
We were meeting my mum for a spot of lunch in Arrochar, so we made it off in good time, knowing a hot meal and beer awaited
Some pics from the descent...
Reflection.
All in all, a great trip. One which gave me time to restore my morale and remember Drew without the pressures of normal life. The mountains really do have some special influence on my well being.
As most of you who undertake any sort of physical slog will appreciate, you often have a tune in your head which is on constant repeat, playing over and over and over as you grind out whatever it is you're doing. For me, it was "There goes the fear" by The Doves. Eerily appropriate given the circumstances?
Also… provided you are prepared to wait until dusk (when the walkers are off the hill), the ride down that path from 650m to sea level would be absolutely AMAZING! There's a few big waterbars on the top section, but the rest would be like a 3 mile mountain bike toboggan run. Anyone up for it?!
