Snow Holes on Creag Meagaidh
It was a cold January 1989 when a group of us set out to climb the 1130 metres (3,710 feet) that is Creag Meagaidh, a spectacular complex lump of Scottish mountain situated roughly midway between Spean Bridge in the west and Newtonmore in the east. A mountain famous for its vast, tundra-like summit plateau and dramatic, ice-carved, cliffs of Coire Ardair situated on the north east flank of the mountain.
This however was not a simple ordinary day out, it was part of the Ochils Mountain Rescue Team’s winter training, led by the wise, tough, venerable and highly respected, ex Royal Marine, Mick Tighe. It was not the team’s, nor was it my, first encounter with Mick. He once famously remarked to a group of us at a different time and place as we, not without some difficulty, negotiated a serious bit of steep ice, ‘if you cannot do this you shouldn’t be in mountain rescue.’
We spend the evening of 20 January 1989 in the Stronlossit Hotel, Roy Bridge. I am not sure, but I believe some alcohol would have been consumed. Early next morning, Saturday 21st January, we sort ourselves out and head out in Land Rovers.
We were not the only early risers that morning as we spotted a Celtic Football supporters bus picking some green and white bedecked individuals as they set out on their long trip to Easter Road, Edinburgh to watch their team play and defeat (3 - 1) Hibernian FC.
We head a few mile east to Moy at the west end of Loch Laggan where we de-bussed and spent some time sharing out the equipment, securing it to our rucksacks then heading onto the hill.
It is a lovely, calm morning and we are blessed with an early low winter sun. As we progress, strands of wispy mist in the valleys develops and enters into negotiations with the sun over who should reign supreme that day. The cloud won that argument, although the compromise leaves us with a lovely, almost translucent, glow for a time. Once on the hill we traverse the gentler lower slopes in a north easterly direction till we encounter Allt Coire Choille-rais. We swing left and head north up though steep ground with the burn bouncing down beside us. About 400 metres later we reach the beautiful bowl of 250 metre high cliffs that is the Moy Corrie, home of Lochan Coire Choille-rais.
The corrie and its lochan stay hidden from the gaze of all but soaring eagles until one makes the effort to join them and enter an amphitheatre of cliffs and snow from its ‘secret’ door on the east of the corrie, just at the outfall of Allt Coire Choille-rais, where it commences its twisting, tumbling cascade down the flank of the mountain to replenish the waters of Loch Laggan a few hundred feet below.
It was so quiet, so wonderful and in the trick of the light, brought about by the sun shining through the cloud onto snow plastered black beetling cliffs; it looked like a scene from a black and white film, the only colour coming from our clothing and gear.
Lochan Coire Choille-rais with the Moy Corrie Cliffs behind.
On the shore of the lochan we have a break, fuel up and consider the route we will take to get us out of the corrie and onto the summit plateau. Then we are off and carefully picking our way over ice covered boulders to the far side of the lochan, where we see what looks like a handy escape route. The obvious snow ramp immediately beyond the figures in the front of the picture. We get there and start to ascend in single file in what turned out to be a slow trudge up a very steep snow and in places, ice covered, gulley, hoping it would not ‘peter out’ and block our progress.
The team, laden with shovels, saws and big packs led by Mick, start up the ramp.
Halfway up our escape route from Moy Corrie.
After about forty minutes or so we emerge from the gulley and continue across the south slopes leading to the plateau, where after a while we encounter a cornice. Our brave leader was given the task of breaking through and creating an exit for the rest of the team.
On the cusp of the plateau. Ooops, I actually broke through to take the picture.
Sorting out a compass bearing to get us across the summit plateau.
Care was taken over our compass bearing before we, like lemmings, followed our leader over a cloud covered summit plateau heading to the cliffs of the seriously steep north flank of the mountain where we would dig snow holes to reside in overnight.
snow hole building near creag meagaidh summit
After more than an hour of heavy digging, excavating and sawing we had fashioned our five star room for the night.
Our five star bedroom. (note the beer shelf).
Now for a cosy sleep.
Then it was a dram and to bed. Sleeping in a snow hole is not like being in your own bed under a duvet; it is cold, but with the correct gear, just about bearable. Oh, nearly forgot, we had to create a ‘breathing hole’ above us. A hole to the outside that would allow us to live through the night with asphyxiating. Then there is getting up in the middle of the night to answer nature's call, but hey, that is another story.
Very early morning outside our small motel.
At midnight, in a gale and in the pitch black, aided by our head torches, we exited our cosy caves and in the pitch black, aided by our head torches, we summited the mountain.
Next morning we signed out of our cosy motel onto the steep northern aspect of the mountain, high above Lochan Uaine. For the next few hours we practised traversing down and across the steep snow covered ground, than back up using our ice axes to cut steps. Then it was the use of an ice axe to arrest our fall, if we ever fell. Oh, over the years some of us did require to put that practice to good use.
I was selected as the first, ‘guinea pig’. Why me? Who knows? With the rest watching and waiting their turn I start and follow Mick’s instructions, which were to walked across the steep slope in front of where he was standing in a ‘safe’ platform he had dug for himself. I dutifully carried out his instruction, ice axe by my side as one would normally carry it in such circumstances. As I got directly in front of him he, without warning, grabbed me by my shoulders, turned me and pulled me towards him, then, in an instant, just as suddenly, with force, pushed me away from him. The real sneaky bit was, as he did that he hooked his foot round my ankle causing me to violently pitch backward, completely out of control and head first, on my back tumbling down like a rag doll. I have no idea how far I tumbled, but I do know that the blade of my ice axe struck my cheek.
I then got myself orientated and as I slid on my back, head first and at speed, towards even steeper ground, I effected the correct ice axe breaking manoeuvre and came to a halt. As I got to my knees and looked back up the slope, I heard the ‘sarcastic’ hand clapping of Mick with the rejoinder, ‘not bad, not bad, but you need to get sorted out quicker.’
The day continued without the violent tripping and after a couple of hours we called a halt.
It was time to leave this lofty place and as we headed back, we went over to The Window, then ascended an adjoining peak, Stob Poite Coire Ardair, then headed along an undulating ridge before, at Sròn Coire á Chriochairein, descending steep ground to the path and out to the car park and our single land rover and trailer transport.
There were sixteen of us and only one short wheel base land rover. We stacked the trailer with all the gear and the sixteen of us ‘boarded’ the land rover. Two on the bonnet, four on the seat with the driver, two standing outside at the back, one foot on a narrow ledge and the other on the trailer. The rest of us piled inside. It was a very careful 20 mile drive along a lonely highland road.
It was a hard, but wonderful weekend in the Scottish mountains with really good people.
Last comment; regarding the health and safety arrangements during the ice axe breaking practice on the very steep snow and ice covered slope. A member of a local mountain rescue team stood at the bottom of the slope, just where it goes over a cliff, ready to catch anybody who failed the test. The ‘Catcher’. We had thought of everything.
