Christine's walking & birds blog

Just after this we came to a short gorge; looking along it we could see the white spray from a waterfall - and a bird, flying around in it or more likely, beyond it. It looked the right size for a ring ouzel - and as we crossed the stream beyond the gorge a pair of ring ouzels flew past, the male alighting briefly.

Looking along the Destitution Road to An Teallach, with the sea beyond.....


After a tediously steep and boggy climb we finally got to the top. Once again I did quite a bit of whinging on the way up, while Greger was dissatisfied with his lunch seat. We agreed we were too tired to take in the next top seen in this picture (Sgurr nan Clach Geala); it looked so close but appearances can be deceptive. We left it for another day but walked towards it for a descent from the col.


The walking on the dry, tundra-like plateau was splendid. If only it was all like this! (Sgurr Mor is the pointed top seen to the left.)


A wheatear had been seen on the summit, but my heart sank as we dropped off the bealach onto the steep grassy slopes leading down. It's a wrench to leave these airy uplands without a sighting of ptarmigan or dotterel. But a short distance down, a dark shape by the side of the path turned out to be a male ptarmigan.


It was a rough descent, with the path soon petering out. We followed a stream which isn't necessarily a good idea, as water can go where we can't - i.e., over a precipice. We did encounter something like that but scrambled down anyway, with Greger then finding a route through a wet area where the stream split into three strands.

Eventually we were back on the valley floor, where we picked up the path and began to follow it out. Several puddles along this path held tadpoles; I don't suppose many of these will survive - but obviously enough do, as the hills are always full of frogs in the summer.


On the way up we had lost the path and crossed the river where it narrowed quite easily on stones. This time we stayed on the path and found that where it crossed the river, no line of stones went all the way. So we took off our boots and waded (or paddled really - for most of the way it was ankle-deep only). But it was full of snow-melt and freezing cold, and as I scrambled out, I only just avoided stepping on a tiny froglet.


Once we'd got our socks and boots back on though, it was surprising how quickly our feet became warm and toasty again.

On the walk back a greenshank took off from the plantation area with hysterical calling, and a coal tit sang from the conifers. So it was quite a bird-rich hill-walk, particularly if I add in meadow pipits and pied wagtails. The walk was 14 km long.