By: Blonde One
The Munro of Aonach Mor is the eighth highest Munro and stands at 1221m, only a tad shorter than its impressive neighbour: Ben Nevis. The climb up to its top was my favourite day out during this trip, although it was by no means the easiest. The climb up was the usual slog over rocky patches, icy patches and fresh snow. The occasional stop for a breather was rewarded by some views that had I got any breath left would have taken it away completely! Ben Nevis was looking amazing over the valley. Kicking steps out of the icy snow with heavy B1 boots with crampons attached was mostly the only way to do it and the leg muscles were getting one of the best workouts they’ve ever had.
The views were intermittently obscured by cloud for most of the climb from 750m to 1000m. The last little bit of climb was one of the most scary walking days I’ve experienced. It seemed like all of a sudden I couldn’t see a thing. There was a complete whiteout and I don’t mind admitting to being unnerved by it. It’s very hard to describe it effectively but basically I didn’t know what was sky, floor, cloud, mountain or edge of mountain. There was nothing to judge perspective by and everything seemed to have disappeared. There was utter silence apart from us 4 walkers and the dog. It felt as though I might have been walking any moment on thin air. The edge could have been one millimetre or one kilometre away!
A few more metres of height gain brought a little break in the whiteout and we felt a little more secure on the final leg to the summit over the best plateau imaginable. The sense of euphoria was strong as we strode (well tried to stride against the sideways wind and snow) across the almost completely flat stretch towards the cairn marking the 1221m top.
The OS online mapping screenshot shows the impressive nature of the plateau and the importance of our accurate navigation in poor visibility!
I fear I’ve not been giving you the attention you deserve; for several days my computer has been stricken with a malware visitation and performing the simplest task has been onerous.
What amazes me about Scotland is that Happy Wanderers there never raise the most obvious complaint: the demands on one’s spelling and pronounciation. I see you record Aonach as if it were nothing more than The Old Kent Road (despite sedulous verification behind the scenes).
Decades ago, in order to boost my ever-flagging reputation as an alpinist I carefully learned how to spell Sgurr nan Gillean and how to say it (both now forgotten), then scattered it far and wide in conversation. You’ll not be surprised I view others engaged in such dubious self-promotion with a jaundiced eye.
I have never even attempted the Scottish pronunciations. When I was in Scotland, I was either too out of breath or had imbibed too much single malt to try. I do try hard every time I go to Wales to learn at least one place name. Then I come home, Mr Welsh asks me where I went and then he laughs at my attempt. I have adopted the phrase, “Don’t make me say that!”
Brilliant description – I was with you every step of the way. You truly feel the special ambience of Scottish mountains, especially in winter. My ascent of that peak, along with its neighbour, Aonach Beag was in more benign conditions (20th Aug. 2008).
I never did anything so adventurous – sadly – but I offer one piece of advice based on fog experience – if in extreme doubt, follow the dog. Especially if he (she) knows supper is in the car!