Some Reflections on Becoming a Munroist

Peter Swindells

On March 19th 1994 I reached the top of Cruach Ardrain and became a Munroist.  With me were eight relatives and friends five of whom were members of the Y.R.C., who had walked the hills with me, most of them on many occasions.  We were lucky in our day, there was plenty of snow and, apart from about half an hour at the top, we had blue skies and excellent visibility.  We based ourselves on the O.M.C. hut at Crianlarich and I had limited-the numbers present so that we could sit down in comfort in their kitchen which, for the uninitiated, doubles up as their dining area, and there we had our party.

I then asked the S.M.C. to include my name on their register fully expecting that they would ask for some more information which would include, so I hoped, the name of my club.  Not a bit of it, almost by return I received their confirmation, with no questions asked, that I had been enrolled as a Munroist and that my number was 1274.  This shows the growth in popularity.  The first YRC.  man to complete was Darrell in 1974 and his number was 118, second came Eddie in 1988 and his number was 589, an increase of 33 per year and now me, 6 years later showing an increase of 114 per year.

The questions I am most often asked are ‘How long did it take you’ and ‘Why did you do it’.  I went up Ben Lawers on my honeymoon in 1946 and in 1958 on a family holiday I went up Ben More, Mull and that was about all until I joined the YRC in 1964.  During the next twenty five years I was a regular attendee on Scottish meets and I suppose I climbed about 130 Munros and then, in 1990, we had the Cairngorm meet during which I climbed a further 23 which meant going up and down, about 25,000 ft, walking 100 miles and cycling 40 miles.  And it was at that point that I became hooked and decided to go for gold.  That answers ‘how long did it take’, to answer ‘why’ is not so easy.  The short answer is that it was a challenge, had I got enough residual energy to climb 30 or 40 Munros a year for the next 4 years which was the time span I set myself But there was more to it than that  when I was president my theme song had been ‘physical activity’ as well as ‘attendance on meets’ and when I ceased to be president I wanted to show, to myself if to non one else, that I practised what I preached and to spend a Whit meet up on the Cairngorm plateau and to climb all the Munros in that area that I had not yet climbed seemed to me exactly to fit the bill.  I remember mentioning the idea at the meet we held at Ballachulish in the Autumn of 1989 and it met an immediate and enthusiastic response from David Atherton.  This marked the beginning of a partnership which was to prove invaluable in the months to come.  I had already climbed nearly all the really interesting hills and the majority of what remained were either rounded and grass covered or were isolated and inaccessible and none of them presented any technical difficulty.  What was needed was time and persistence and it was of the greatest help both in the planning and the execution to have a companion who shared the same enthusiasm and commitment.  I don’t recall us ever failing to complete our target, nor do I recall us ever failing in our navigation.

But all this represents a complete change in attitude.  In the past, in common I believe with my other YRC friends, we went on a hill that attracted us, or that had an attractive route, or was in an attractive location, the height of the hill was of secondary importance.  The rougher the ground the more we liked it and paths were man made and therefore to be avoided except as a means of access.  Yet from 1990 on, it was the summit which mattered and I always chose the easiest and quickest route to get there.  In my opinion the two are complimentary.  Its like the Cuillin ridge.  You can spend days enjoying the different facets of each individual peak, but come the day when you are after the traverse, nothing else matters but to cover the ground and to do it as easily and quickly as possible.

What are my main memories? Of the hills, much that gives me personal pleasure but nothing that is worth retelling except perhaps one thing.   The normal route up Beinn Sgritheall is from the South.  Don’t take it. If you can, approach the hill from the North, it is an excellent walk up one side of Coire Dubh and down the other, and the great merit of this route is that the panoramic view, for which this hill is famous, bursts upon you as you reach the crest.

In my opinion a great deal of pleasure is got from planning a Scottish visit.  Finding out which estate a hill is on and who to ring for access permission (in the close season), who to ring for permission to drive up estate roads and arranging where to spend the night if we were not camping brought me in contact with many different people.   They were nearly always friendly disposed and I look back on these contacts with much pleasure.  There was the head stalker on the Killilan Estate, a man with formidable reputation who would be mot unlikely to open his gate to a couple of Englishmen.  He succumbed to David’s charm to such an extent that he, himself, drove us down again.   Then there was the stalker at Forest Lodge in Glen Tilt who was so beguiled by my blarney on the telephone about the spirit of Christmas that, one Christmas Eve, he let me

and my daughter drive up without charge.  After we had done our climb we called at Forest Lodge to thank him and offer him a dram.  It was our lucky day, he refused the drink saying we had found the only teetotal stalker in the Grampian region.

On the other hand there were the odd ones, such as the stalker who opened his gate OK in the morning but then forgot so that, just as we were getting ready to wet our whistles and were in a nice relaxed condition, we found ourselves locked in with not a soul for miles around.

My last memory is of a February meet when Mike Godden and I set out to climb Gulvain.  We had walked some way up the glen when the stalker appeared and, in a perfectly polite manner, requested that we keep off that hill as they were deer counting.  It was very irritating but we could do nothing but agree and, in return, beg a lift in his van back to the car at which point the following conversation took place. Stalker: ‘Are you after the Munros’? Mike: ‘Yes, I’ve just started but he (indicating me) is near his end’.  Stalker: ‘Aye, I can see that.’ That put me in my place.

But to end on a cheerful note.  I strongly recommend anyone who is seeking the remote and the unexpected in the Highlands to arrange to eat their supper in Morgan’s Den, in the signal box with its 360 0 view.   If you left Roy Bridge by the morning train the evening and climbed the 3 Munros round Lock Ossian you will have time to kill before catching the evening train back and how better to kill before catching the evening train back and how better to kill time than to eat your supper.  Mrs. Morgan will let you use her equipment.  We fed there and what’s more we entertained a young French girl who was on her way from Skye to Exeter.  Also present was a young Dutch couple and a couple of Spaniards lurked somewhere downstairs.  I thought it all a bit grotty but not so my companions; they all thought it had atmosphere and provided a fitting end to a memorable day.