Scaling Beinn Fhionnlaidh, we explore Scotland’s more isolated landscape and experience the exhilaration of summiting its peak.
It’s barely nine-thirty on a sunny June morning when we drive our motorhome into the small public car park at Glen Creran, nestled in the forest at the end of a single-track road. We’ve driven a little under an hour from our campsite at Invercoe in the western Scottish Highlands, 5 miles off the A828 near Appin, to hike to the summit of Bienn Fhionnlaidh (pronounced byn-yoonly), meaning Finlay’s Hill. At a height of 3,146ft (959m), the peak is one of Scotland’s 282 Munros (mountains over 3,000ft), named after Sir Hugh T. Munro, who surveyed and catalogued the peaks in a list for the Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal in 1891.
Munro-bagging is considered a bit of a sport amongst Scottish hillwalkers and while Jimmy, my husband and walking companion for the day, has completing the list in his sights (Bienn Fhionnlaidh is his 181st Munro), I’m not keeping count – I simply love being out on the hills and take every opportunity to plan a weekend away in our Roller Team T-Line 590 around a hike. For those that want to tackle a few hills, Glencoe is the ideal base with more than 40 Munros within a 15-mile radius. Admittedly, climbing a Munro can be a hard slog plodding relentlessly upwards towards a peak way off in the distance, often obscured by the clouds (it is Scotland!), but the amazing scenery, fresh air and the exhilaration of reaching the trig point to take in the 360-degree views make the dogged resolve more than worthwhile.
Eager to get started on our 15km (5-7-hour) expedition while the sun is shining, we jump out of the van, but within seconds nippy, wee black beasties lurking in the trees have attacked and we rapidly rummage through my backpack to find super-strength insect repellent which is hastily applied. Scottish-born and bred, we should have known to expect midges. After heavy rain the previous evening, the air is damp and humid in the morning sunshine – perfect conditions for the biting insects.
The attack, however, is brief, as we swiftly clear the trees and head towards Glen Ure House along a tarmac, private estate road, flanked by a neatly mown border and rows of freshly planted trees covered in swanky wooden tree protectors. A fold of Highland cows gracing the fields on either side – brown, blonde and black, from calves to muckle, fully grown specimens – keeps us amused as they frolic in the grass and wallow in the burn.
At the end of the driveway, the crisp white walls of Glen Ure House stand out against the imposing backdrop of Beinn Sgulaird (also a Munro). Built in the 18th century, the house finds a place in the history books, linked to the infamous Appin Murder which inspired Robert Louis Stevenson’s novel, Kidnapped. Colin Roy Campbell of Glen Ure, or the ‘Red Fox’, was a government factor for the confiscated lands of Clan Stewart and Clan Cameron and responsible for evicting the Jacobite tenants. In 1752, whilst riding through nearby woods, he was shot in the back by a hidden assailant and fatally wounded. Although James Stewart was tried and executed for the crime after one of the biggest murder hunts in Scottish history, it is believed he died an innocent man and to this day the identity of the murderer remains unknown.
Back in the 21st century, the majesty of the glen is breathtaking and clear signage to Beinn Fhionnlaidh (follow the yellow arrows) points us on our way. To help navigation, a plethora of books, websites and apps provide detailed routes of the Munros. Lately, we have been using the AllTrails App to download our preferred path which gives a helpful alert if you stray off course. However, it’s always wise to carry a map and a compass (and know how to use them) in case of technical failures and always leave details of your planned route with a friend or on your dashboard. Apart from Ben Nevis and a few other mountains, the hills can be devoid of folks and indeed, on our ascent of Finlay’s Hill, we didn’t meet a soul. While the solitude can be magnificent, if anything goes wrong, you’ll want someone to come looking for you if you don’t arrive back.
Today, our app is on track, and we follow the path on an initial ascent that is steep and boggy. To make matters worse, waterproofs are required when the rain comes in, so essentially, it’s like wearing a polythene bag and the sweat lashes off leaving our t-shirts soaking – am I giving this hill walking caper a big write-up? But after about an hour the gradient eases to a more leisurely ridge climb meandering through lochans, interesting rock formations, pretty alpine plants and a few false summits to arrive at the tip.
It may be early summer, but with the wind chill factor on top, it’s nippy, so I dig out my hat and gloves to keep cosy while admiring the tremendous, slightly obscured, views towards Glencoe and Loch Etive.
After relaxing, briefly, it’s time for a reward. By this point in the day, I’ve already had a banana and a handful of nuts to fuel my body on the ascent and although I’m ready for something a bit more substantial, I tend to take frequent smaller bites on a long day on the hills and so only eat half my piece (cheese and ham – simple but delicious) and an apple, stopping again a bit further down for another snack. I also change my wet socks (having prudently packed a spare pair) and revel in the simple comfort of dry feet – it makes all the difference for the return walk, albeit down the same boggy path. A dry t-shirt would have been a bonus too, so mental note to carry one next time.
It’s with a feeling of exhausted satisfaction we pull back into our pitch overlooking Loch Leven at Invercoe Caravan and Motorhome Park (invercoe.co.uk), in eager anticipation of a hot shower, a cold beer and a break from cooking. Half a mile from the site, the Glencoe Gathering serves an amazing plate of freshly fried fish in fluffy, light batter, accompanied by a gigantic portion of chunky homemade chips (1 plate is plenty for 2 people). At £39.50, including a beer and a soft drink, we’re suitably satiated for a bargain price and ready for bed.
With Beinn Fhionnlaidh ticked off, it’s with a feeling of immense satisfaction and weary legs that we trundle back to the caravan park, already planning our next weekend climbing Munros, excited to experience the magnificence and solitude of Scotland’s remarkable landscape.