The base was the Aite Cruinnidhich hostel at Roy Bridge, which the organiser George had booked some months before. We were the first arrivals in the van, on Thursday night, then Jimmy from Inverness, closely followed by Damien and Finbarr. Attempts by the most recent arrivals to find anywhere open to eat and drink in either Roy Bridge or Spean Bridge were fruitless, so Damien rustled up a spagbol.
The forecast was for Friday to be the best day, and with a lower avalanche level in the east, we headed for the Cairngorms, about an hour away. Jimmy and Margaret went to try and bag a couple of nearby Corbetts. The carpark at Cairngorm was filling rapidly when Damien, Finbarr and I arrived, but we stopped for a coffee before tramping across to Coire An Sneachta, Damien twisting his ankle en route. This became a problem for him, despite an ankle support and painkillers, so he turned back just as we started up the slope to the base of the Fiacaill Ridge. The ridge was in wonderful condition, but there were a number of slow guided parties which we managed to get past. Traversing from the top, towards Cairngorm, we met a bloke on a snow board getting towed by a pair of huskies, who told us that he had met another Irish guy with a bad leg on the way up the mountain. Damien?
It was, because there he was on top, having pulled a Lazarus, and we all walked down together, well pleased with the day’s activities.
Back at the Hostel the Corbetteers were licking their egos having floundered in deep snow, and been forced to turn back, whilst the new arrivals, George, PJ and Anthony, were looking at the forecast for Saturday with rising dismay. The hostel was suddenly jammed full of another group (also the CCC according to the identifiers on the mountain of food that was stowed in the fridges).
Yet another walk into and out of Coire Ardair on Craig Meggy (how many times have I done that without ever climbing a route?) followed on Saturday, along with the abovementioned CCC. Jimmy went home. Meal out in Fort William.
Sunday saw The CCC take off for home (with George’s whisky) whilst George, Ant, Finbarr and I headed up the ski lift on Aonach Mor, en route to ‘Golden Oldie’ on the west face, and PJ, Margaret and Damien went in pursuit of another brace of Corbs above Lough Arkaig.
The longest 2 km I have ever walked, up the Ailt Daim, found us wet and confused as to where the base of the ‘Oldie’ might be as we gazed up into the snow and mist. “Should be around here somewhere” said George, who had been before, and so we started up. “Is this it?” said Finbarr as we climbed. “Might be” said George. “Is this it?” said Finbarr, higher up, “Possibly”. said George. “Is this it?” said Finbarr, even higher. “No” said George. But we went up anyway. Silver Oldie perhaps, with at best a bronze medal for navigation, for finding our way down with 5 minutes to spare before the last Gondola. Back at the hostel, herself was well pleased with 2 more Corbetts, Damien had turned back after Meall nah Eilde 838m and went to get the car, and PJ in a coma after trail breaking all day. Anthony not well either, with a dose of the coronas, he thought
George was incandescent on discovering that the CCC had relocated his malt to Glasgow, making do with wine, as we ‘ate in’ that night.
The Feeneys took off for Cairngorm to ski, and the rest had a rest. This was a nice walk up Glen Nevis to the Steall Bridge followed by an afternoon in the pub. Due to rising concern over the fast moving Covid 19 situation, and a poor forecast, we all came home the next day (Tuesday, St Patrick’s day).