Christine's walking & birds blog

Carn na Dubh Choille

The hill is only 479 metres in height, and so offered a shortish walk with the bonus of a trig point on the summit.  We set off through the Longart Forest on the drove road from Strathgarve to Aultguish on a crisp, bright morning full of the colours and drifting mists of autumn.


A bullfinch and a great tit had been in birches by the lay-by; and soon we were seeing a large flock of redwings, fieldfare, and blackbirds, all feeding on rowan berries.


A bit further on a mistle thrush alighted briefly on the top of a spruce tree; and loosely associating with a mobile flock of blue, coal, and long-tailed tits was a reed bunting.


Wrens and robins were heard in several places but never seen; while a stonechat up the hill was more distant but at least visible.


While the going was still good on a wide, dry track, a male crossbill appeared nearby and sang to us for a while - although I never caught him with his bill open. Perhaps he was humming.



Eventually the pleasant areas of mature mixed forest with clearings gave way to tight ranks of conifers and a wet, grassy track. Our hill lies ahead beyond the trees, and the silvery ribbon is not a stream, but the path.


Greger took this on his mobile to remind us just how wet and boggy the walk had become. We made our way along the bank, but even there we encountered great soft cushions of moss that were saturated with water.


As we approached the gate that would lead out onto open moorland, I lingered to watch for birds while Greger went ahead. I would regret this when I finally caught him up, as he'd had an interesting wildlife sighting. The track became stony again here, and a small stream ran out from a lochan and across the track, where it became wide and shallow as it flowed over the track. Noticing something splashing, he'd seen two fish, dark in colour and between five and six inches long, swimming down the stream, then sliding and wriggling over the exposed stones before disappearing into deeper water between high grassy banks. He said they were definitely fish, not eels. I was consoled by the sighting of a dragonfly - a female common hawker, I think.


After passing the lochan we left the drove road and struck off across rough moorland. Although mostly dry, it was still awkward walking because of the long grass and quite high heather. As we reached the foot of the final rise, the scene was graced with the presence of a golden eagle - an immature bird, circling very high above the summit.



The eagle eventually drifted away, and quite apart from being an enthralling sight in its own right, made me hopeful of seeing red grouse or maybe a mountain hare. However, this was not to be - and I think the hill is too low for ptarmigan.


Despite its modest height, the hill gave great views. To the east, Ben Wyvis and Little Wyvis looked splendid and inviting in the sunshine; with bins, we could see two figures walking along the ridge.


To the west lay the Fannichs, Loch Glascarnoch, and Beinn Dearg. At this distance, the wind turbines didn't seem particularly obtrusive.


When we'd finished lunch, Greger pointed out a gate in the deer fence below and suggested making a round walk of it rather than going back the way we'd come. Here he leads the way down towards Strathgarve, with Loch Garve in the distance.


It was still pretty rough ground down to the fence, but not as bad as coming up, and it was a bit shorter. The gate wasn't actually needed - the fence continued to the right of the gate and then stopped - so we walked round the end of it. However, large coils of wire stashed nearby suggest that it will be extended.  Halfway down I looked back up the hill when I heard ravens, and had a view of two of them - and a rather raggedy red kite; terrible shot, but it was our first kite on a hill-walk. Also, I'm not going to start quibbling about reintroduced species. A kite is a kite is a kite. It goes on the list.


Once at the forest edge, we made our way down steep ground until Greger saw a clearing. He also noticed more mature trees and reasoned that there would be more space between them than between the half-grown, tightly-packed ones should we be unable to find the track. At the bottom of the clearing were tracks made by a forestry vehicle. They were steep and not easy going, with damp (and slippery) trunks and branches to pick our way through; but at least we knew there'd be a proper track at the end of it.  Greger got down first and took this pic looking back up the lower, easier part of it.


He then began to wave his arms about and point to the north - but, because of the trees, I couldn't see anything. When I got down he said a bird of prey had flown westwards up our hill, and he was pretty sure it was a peregrine. Aargh! another miss for me in the wildlife department. Oh well, I'm glad he saw it.

Back on the level track we set off on the last three kilometres of our walk (which was just over 12 kilometres altogether). A buzzard perching in a tree along the track made it onto the hill-walking day list; but a carrion crow flying over the lay-by as we were about to get in the car seemed stretching it a bit.