Christine's walking & birds blog

Beinn Liath Mhor a' Ghiubhais Li

Before this point on the climb, there had been a tedious struggle through peat hags and bogs. Ahead are presumably what the Corbett book calls "solifluction boulder ramparts" - although they look more like terraces than ramparts. But this might not be the feature referred to; geology isn't easy!


To the left of the picture below are some of the peat hags we'd splashed across. The lochs are: Loch Droma (at 280m) and the western tip of Loch Glascarnoch (260m), next to the A835; and beyond are Loch a ' Gharbhrain (270m) and Loch Choire Lair (300m).


Higher up was a vein of white quartz looking like a row of jumbled teeth, and nearby this larger outcrop, with what I think is a Racomitrium moss of some kind. There are colours here that are echoed in ptarmigans' plumage.



And higher still, almost on the top, there was a pair of ptarmigan.


I walked on and then looked back from above. The wind was making it difficult to hold the camera still, but I was lucky to get a break in the showers. At least I know now that even mid-April is too late to catch the ptarmigans in their winter finery.



Greger had gone ahead and was sitting at the summit shelter, from where he took a picture of me.


The strongish easterly wind brought frequent showers - one of which, fortunately brief, turned into hail that stung our faces. Views of the Fannichs were soon obliterated; and trying to take a summit shot with a view in the background was hopeless.


The ridge carried on to a lower top, and I longed to explore further; but poor Greger had wet feet - and in any case, towards the end of the walk I had to admit it was just as well not to overdo things on this first hill-walk of the year. (I always tend to bite off more than I can chew - and I also have to admit that I did quite a bit of whinging today.)

Dropping down to a shallow col, I stopped for a moment to readjust my headgear or something, and Greger called out "Look!" as two snowy birds came flying across the hillside. The ptarmigan wheeled away from us and vanished up the slope before I could get the camera out. They might have been the ones from the summit, although Greger was sure they took off from the col.

Just after this a rapid sharp call carried to us on the wind, sounding rather like a kestrel or merlin. But the bird I could see silhouetted on the distant skyline was certainly a golden plover, and we could hear liquid calls that confirmed its ID. It flew towards us and landed; I failed to see the second bird at the time, so I was lucky to get them both in the shot. However, rather than a pair, they seem to be both male.


We took a wide detour round the plovers, and they made no more fuss; so it's possible that it was a bird of prey rather than our presence that had disturbed them. But if so, we never saw it.

As on the ascent, meadow pipits were everywhere as we made our way down the steep rough slopes to the road. At last we could see the car; and the gate (centre bottom) is what we were aiming for in order to cross one of the deer fences that blight many a hill. It's okay when they make allowances for hill-walkers and provide stiles (usually enormous things that give you vertigo) but very often, they don't. However, the fence is there to protect young conifers from the ravages of red deer, and I see the need for this - I just like to moan.


When we eventually reached the "gate" we realised it was nothing of the sort. It was a high structure, maybe intended simply to strengthen the fence at that point; it was certainly difficult to use as a stile because the wire and the wood didn't coincide, so your feet got tangled up; and the pole at the top was too short to steady you as you went over.


The hill is 766m, and the day's walk was a bit over 8km. We kind of did it on the spur of the moment and only realised afterwards that it was the earliest we've ever been up a Scottish hill.