South Glen Shiel Ridge Ski Traverse
Published in Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal 2018
Many times I have passed through Glen Shiel, looked up to the South Cluanie Ridge and wondered what it would be like as a ski traverse. Having run it once many years ago my memory was of grassy amenable slopes, and with this in mind it was certainly on my radar for a ski traverse on lightweight ‘skimo’ gear. But would I ever manage to get there when it was in condition?
On 16th December 2017 I found myself in a position to put this question to the test. The snowline had been low for a week and I’d had some days out in the east with my skis on straight from the car. But Glen Shiel is awfully near the sea, so I didn’t know how low the snowline would be, or how consolidated the early season snowpack was.
Setting off from near the Cluanie Inn a little before sunrise I skinned along the old Fort William road right from the car. Firm snow crunched as I wove a line between the compressed vehicle tracks left by an estate truck in the previous days. Heading south and up into Coirean an Eich Bhric I came over a rise and was bathed in deep orange light rising from out east in the direction of Ben Alder. Behind me and across the quiet, frozen glen the snowy hills reflected this early morning light beautifully, taking on an extra clarity in its yellow luminosity. I was amazed by how close the Lochaber hills looked: the prominent Grey Corries skyline merging with the Aonachs before ending in the distinctive dark hulk of Ben Nevis’s north face. A short section on foot took me up the north ridge to summit Creag a’ Mhàim, the first of the nine Munros I hoped to visit.
Heading west along the broad ridge I ascended into the mist, managing to keep the skis on past some narrow rocky sections. After Aonach air Chrith I ran a short distance as again the ridge was narrow, rocky and scoured. Snow showers would blow through making me cinch my hood tighter as my muffled hearing conceded to the elemental sounds of transient gusts, the pelt of snow on my jacket, and the rhythmic efforts of my breathing. Thankfully these blasts would recede as quickly as they arrived, leaving me alone again with the silent untracked snow.
Getting further along the weather improved and I had more expansive views down to Glen Quoich, fully blanketed in snow. Following the old fenceline for a lot of the route made for mostly easy navigation through the intermittent cloud, although some careful contouring used the skis to their advantage in enabling a more direct line that avoided several sub-summits. The snow cover was good, although the base was variable. In practice this meant for quick uphill skinning but required careful descending to avoid rocks, fenceposts and unconsolidated drifts. Due to the nature of the undulating ridge it was quicker and more efficient to leave skis in ‘uphill’ mode for some of the short, gentler descents. As anyone who has free-heeled downhill with skins on will know, this can be pretty ungainly!
By Creag nan Damh the sun was out and I had expanding winter vistas south and west, as well as glimpses through the cloud to a pristine looking snowy Saileag to the north. Following the fenceline down to Bealach Duibh Leac was undulating and made for exciting progress, which was not straightforward on skis. Here was the option of an obvious descent route down northwards to the road. With an enjoyable traverse of seven Munros behind me, was I hoping for too much if I continued on traversing into the lengthening afternoon shadows?
Committing to finding out I headed on upwards to cross the rocky summit of Sgùrr a’ Bhac Chaolais, which gave access to the two remaining peaks beyond. Sgùrr na Sgine was a beauty, its steep eastern cliffs a barrier that I would have to go around. Taking my skis off briefly for a steep rocky descent, I then followed a lovely gentle slope traversing southwest under the cliffs. I spotted two climbers doing one of the chimney lines on the cliff, and then startled a fox from its snow covered hideout in an old wall. I watched with primitive delight as it shot up the wide white slope, helter skelter, disappearing over the horizon. Following it more slowly I arrived at Sgùrr na Sgine and looked across to The Saddle, which was still capped in cloud. The snow was less consolidated here, closer to the sea, and the hills seemed rockier too. An awkward traverse down to Bealach Coire Mhàlagain was not free of rocky scrapes, but certainly would have been more arduous on foot, sinking deep in the soft snow.
Heading up The Saddle I felt tired. I had only taken a litre of water and not enough food, so I needed to concentrate. The cloud lifted as I got to the 1010m summit and I had welcome evening views to Loch Duich and Skye. This peak is quite complex and knowing I had only about half an hour of daylight left with which to commit to my descent route focussed my mind, adding feelings of urgency to those already engendered by the lonely harshness of the land. Skiing down the featured corrie heading east did not look totally straightforward, but walking off by any route would have been slow and exhausting in these conditions. Carefully avoiding rocks I skied the corrie and then traversed back to the base of the Forcan Ridge.
Ascending a final time I passed Meallan Odhar and joined the stalkers track before jogging out the final 2km on foot, just as it became fully dark, and 8.5hrs after setting off. Thumb out hopefully, walking along the road in the darkness, I was a lucky boy as the first vehicle passing stopped for me! Thanks to Helen and Neil from Cioch Outdoor Clothing who gave me a lift back to my car for some celebratory food and rehydration.
The next day was nasty, milder weather, and so I had hit the end of the skiing conditions window. Reflecting on the day gives me a lot of pleasure for a variety of reasons but foremost is the satisfaction of using the ski as a tool for travel in winter mountain terrain when it is also the best option. Walking or running the same 32km route would have been implausible in these conditions due to exhausting slow trail breaking: the skis were not perfect but they made this journey possible in these conditions. Maybe the resultant jubilation in part explains the allure of trying to eke out long ski traverses in Scotland, where ski conditions are very often marginal, and the outcome is far from predictable.
