Thursday, August 24, 2006
Retrospective - June 2006
We arrived at Skiba Lodge on Saturday evening. It stands on the shore of Loch Broom, a few minutes walk away from Ullapool. A family of common sandpipers on the stony beach just beyond the fence gave me a nice garden tick.
On Monday, we drove north to Achnahaird Bay on the road to Achiltibuie. It was a warm sunny day and we set off to walk round the headland. We took the high road across open moorland, flushing the odd snipe from the verges.
The scenery was fabulous. Rocky islands, rugged cliffs, blue sparkling sea...As we walked into Reiff we spotted a red-throated diver bobbing on the waves. A pair of twite flew over the road, ringed plover ran across the sheep-grazed turf, and a dunlin trilled from a boulder.
At the end of the road we climbed a gate to get onto the cliffs, seeing common sandpiper and a family of shelduck on the Loch of Reiff. We lunched overlooking a rocky cove serenaded by hysterical oystercatchers.
The walking after this was wild and wonderful, though often boggy. There was a commotion on the seaward side and a great skua came flying towards us with a smaller, dark bird in close pursuit. Our first Arctic skua! A bit further on were two more skuas; pale birds this time and very conspicuous on their grassy knoll. In the distance is Beinn an Eoin.
Turning south again at Rubha Coigeach, we found ourselves in the company of fulmars and great black-backed gulls.
Our walk today was about 15 kilometres, or just over 9 miles; and towards the end we were beginning to feel it. Below, strings of auks were leaving the bay for the open sea. Back at the car park I finally got a family of rock pipits and a man strolled over and cheerfully informed us that we'd just missed some dolphins.
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From the road end at Badrallach, a path leads along the steep hillside high above Little Loch Broom. Many walkers follow this to Scoraig and the headland beyond, which must be a breathtaking walk in itself - but our destination was the summit of Beinn Ghobhlach, so after about a kilometre we "took to the heather" (Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped).
A red-throated diver flew below us with a goose-like call and joined a second bird on the lochan below this one.
Above the lochans the going got steeper though not drier. Greger was heard complaining that Scotland must be the only place on earth where water runs uphill. But reaching the top re-paid all our efforts.
The views inland and down to Ullapool were tremendous, yet all the time the gaze is drawn irresistibly westwards, to distant islands and the misty sea. Views indeed to "hurt the heart" (Roy Hinks in "The Home Track").
A small herd of white goats paused in their traverse of the hillside to look curiously up at us - don't know whether they're feral or wild. Across the loch is the lighthouse at Rhue.
We had a leisurely lunch and then continued round the rim before dropping into the corrie. The descent was very steep, the terrain rough and often boggy. We could see the path below us and kept saying what a relief it would be to reach it; and then when we were actually on it, we started moaning again because here and there, it went slightly uphill.
Back at the car I scanned the loch with my binoculars and just made out a merganser with young. It would have been nice to linger, but Greger said he was getting visions of cold beer in his head - and when he gets those, I know it's time to go.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Two-day visit to Scotland - Thursday 8th June
Beinn Mhanach is a double-topped mountain in Lochaber, with one top counting as a Munro. I set off on the 4-mile walk-in up Auch Gleann on a gorgeous morning, serenaded by willow warblers. Common sandpiper and wheatear were seen along the river, and a pair of twite flew past calling.
Eventually I Ieft the track and began to climb the steep flank of Beinn a'Chuirn. Pausing for a breather, I was startled when a fox came trotting quietly round the shoulder of the hill and stopped about twenty feet away. We stared at one another. "What are you up to then?" I said, and the fox turned and vanished round the hillside.
As I arrived at the summit cairn of Beinn a'Chuirn the one cloud that had been in the sky also settled on it, so it was map-and-compass work to reach Beinn Mhanach - and disappointing not to get the view eastwards down Glen Lyon to Ben Lawers. Back down on the wide, boggy col there was a golden plover.
It was wonderful to wander back through the lovely, lonely Auch Gleann in unbroken sunshine. In alders near the far end were a great spotted woodpecker (a first for my Scottish mountain list) and a spotted flycatcher.
I looked back to see the mountain against a blue sky with not a cloud in sight. Typical.
Back on the West Highland Way it was quite crowded - at least seven walkers passed me. A grey wagtail flew along the river, and near the car park a pair of stonechats scolded from a gorse bush. And still the willow warblers sang! A brilliant day.
Friday 9th June
In the kitchen of Crianlarich Youth Hostel, another early riser asked me where I was headed. I said I would be driving slowly home, as the previous day's walk had left me dehydrated and with sore shoulders from my rucksack. "Look at that gorgeous sunshine!" was his response. "How often do you get a day like this in the mountains? Get out there and walk!" He was absolutely right. I was being pathetic - so I drove north to Rannoch Moor, turning off at the Glencoe ski area and parking near Blackrock Cottage.
It was a cloudless morning and already very warm. I would have to carry more water today and so decided, for the sake of my sore shoulders, to jettison the binoculars. Sacrilege! I floundered across the boggy moorland with the odd feeling that my legs were getting shorter, finally swerving from my intended route and diverting onto Creag Dhubh to gain height and dry ground. The rocky scramble up Sron na Creise would have to wait for another year.
It was a straightforward climb up to the 750m contour, where I heard the thin piping of a golden plover. On seeing the photo, Greger suggested I call my blog "distant birds mostly out of focus".
The pleasant grassy slopes gave way to Meall a'Bhuiridh's stony cap, and as I reached the top a strongish wind hit me from the south. I sat in the shelter of the cairn eating, and a raven drifted over to check me out. Far below, Loch an Easain was full of red deer.
A rocky rib, dropping and then rising steeply, linked this hill to the long ridge I would need to gain in order to bag my second Munro of the day, Creise. Beyond the ridge are the tops of Bidean nam Bian. On the easy, enjoyable scramble I met the only other walkers I would see all day.
I made my way along the ridge to the summit cairn on Creise (Clach Leathad is further along the ridge and Stob Ghabhar in the distance to the right) and had just reached it when my mobile rang. It was Greger, calling from Finland. First time I've had a phone conversation on top of a Munro.
Hyped up from a fabulous day in the hills (thanks, unknown guy in the youth hostel!) and not in the least tired, I drove home through the night. Greger arrived just after me, hungry after a foodless flight with Ryanair. We ate some soup and fell into bed at 3 am.
The pleasant grassy slopes gave way to Meall a'Bhuiridh's stony cap, and as I reached the top a strongish wind hit me from the south. I sat in the shelter of the cairn eating, and a raven drifted over to check me out. Far below, Loch an Easain was full of red deer.
A rocky rib, dropping and then rising steeply, linked this hill to the long ridge I would need to gain in order to bag my second Munro of the day, Creise. Beyond the ridge are the tops of Bidean nam Bian. On the easy, enjoyable scramble I met the only other walkers I would see all day. 
I made my way along the ridge to the summit cairn on Creise (Clach Leathad is further along the ridge and Stob Ghabhar in the distance to the right) and had just reached it when my mobile rang. It was Greger, calling from Finland. First time I've had a phone conversation on top of a Munro. 
I retraced my steps over Meall a'Bhuiridh - noting that the deer were still in the lochan - and made for the chairlift. I unstrapped my new walking poles and lengthened them, and found them very useful on the steep grassy slopes down to the track. The chairlift was running (although no one was on it) and there was something alternately spooky and comforting about the empty seats swinging and squeaking above me.
Hyped up from a fabulous day in the hills (thanks, unknown guy in the youth hostel!) and not in the least tired, I drove home through the night. Greger arrived just after me, hungry after a foodless flight with Ryanair. We ate some soup and fell into bed at 3 am.
