Glen Etive 11

I have had an idea of running the Ben Starav Nine for a while, but I kept in at the back of my mind. I was put off by having to drop a bike off at the top of Glen Etive to get back to the start. In a quiet moment at work I was perusing the map when I came up with a new and cunning plan. If I added in the two Corbetts of Beinn Mhic Chasgaig and Stob Dubh the route would become a nice, neat circle with only a few hundred meters of common ground. The stats didn't seem too bad - just over 50km and 4500m of ascent or thereabouts and an estimate of 10 hours.

With the weather not looking favourably on a long run in the Cairngorms, along with a distinct lack of motivation for a long solo run in the dark, I decided last Thursday to have a go on Friday. Thursday night saw me in Glen Etive camped in the car ready for an early start. Even crammed into a Focus I managed to over sleep and it wasn't until six thirty that I was under way.

The day was perfect with only light cloud cover and a slight breeze keeping the temperatures almost perfect for running. Ben Starav, Beinn nan Aighenan and Glas Bheinn Mhor passed by in a blur. Fantastic running mostly all on well trodden paths following ridge lines and I enjoyed the inspiring views trying to put a name on the summits I could see. The summit cloud had by now all lifted. The next munros, Stob Coir' an Albannaich and Meall nan Eun seemed a bit out of place - more like hills in Cairngorms than the west coast. At least water wasn't much of an as each of the deep bealachs had their own burns. For the first time I was trying Complan - a meal substitute drink, but unfortunately I couldn't find any Nuuns tablets so I was relying on Tesco mini Scotch eggs for salt intake (!!!).

Having banged out the first five Munros in less than five hours I was pretty chuffed, but I knew now my estimate of 10 hours was going to be way out. It felt a long way to Stob Ghabar, but I was still enjoying myself and I savoured the views back to Ben Starav. A mini Aonach Eagach lead down to the climb up to Stob a Choire Odhair. Munro seven and seven hours in. I decided to take a beeline for Meall a' Bhuiridh for several reasons. There looked to be a big shower of rain coming through, the wind had picked up and when else was I going to be here to run through the bogs surrounding the Black Mount.

It was almost 2 hours later that I reached the ski-ing detritus on the slopes of Meall a Bhuiridh having survived a pretty intense rain shower and the man-eating peat hags of the River Ba bogs. After so much beautiful scenery it was all a bit depressing. It was now pretty cold with a bitter wind, my feet hurt and I was keen just to get on with it. A short steep scramble up to Creise. 11 hours and now I was on my way home. Could I do it or would the 'easy option' of the road become too tempting?

At least the first Corbett Beinn Mhic Chasgaig was easy. With new enthusiasm I decided to go for Stob Dubh and finish of the route 'properly'. Allt Coire Ghuibhasan was alive with midgies and despite the dramatic surroundings I was glad to press on. The SMC guide book speaks of short grass when it mentions Stob Dubh. Obviously the landowner has forgotten to mow this particular hill for a while. Knee and thigh deep tussocks were the order of the day until the ridge was reached, strangely I still felt pretty positive - well more positive than I had 2 hours ago. The summit craig loomed ahead - a more than fitting end to this hard run.

Finally it happened. I hit the wall. The last fifty meters of ascent were overcome with a supreme effort of mind over matter. I felt sick. I couldn't eat or drink and I was out of gas. I sat on the top for a moment on the cairn and contemplated the way off. Once I had picked a way through the crags it would all be okay. The mist had by now come in, however I got through the steep rocky section and to my horror discovered that the promised short grass didn't exist on this side of the hill either. Imaginary sheep mocked me as I hobbled down, the track never getting any closer. After an hour of agony I reached the track.

My stomach by now so sore that even a gentle jog was too much. Fast walking interspersed with bouts of retching finally got me back to the car 13 hours and 45 minutes after leaving it. Not the quickest, but my longest unsupported run. The less said about the drive back to Inverness the better. Suffice to say I managed by the grace of God to keep all my bodily fluids out of the car interior at least.