Christine's walking & birds blog

Along the road we'd heard a blackcap singing, goldcrests were heard in the forest, and a little way up the track we saw a chiffchaff - first one on a hill walk (it's stretching it a bit to add it to a list called "Scottish mountain list", when this hill is no mountain - but what the heck). 

A strong stink of animals wafted towards us, and round the next bend a bunch of Highland cattle stood at a feeding station. Two of the calves were black. They all turned to stare curiously at us and we cut off that corner of the track to avoid them; Highland cattle are said to be docile, but you never know!

Soon we were leaving the farmland behind and plodding up the steep, pathless hillside through the heather. A cuckoo called. Across Loch Broom with its fish farm, rose the forbidding profile of An Teallach.

The scenery on the ridge couldn't have been more different from the lush pastures and blazing gorse below. At least a dozen lochans dotted the bleak moorland that stretched away towards Seana Bhraigh (Shayna Vray).

Our hill, though small (558m), is a rough knobbly one, and it took some time to reach the trig point; we couldn't miss it, however, as a huge shelter wall has been built around it. There was no flush bracket.  The weather was bright and sunny for most of the day, but the wind was a problem; and Greger's head can just be seen, as he hunts around for a comfortable lunch seat out of the wind. 

He succeeded!

We set off again, continuing on from the summit as we intended to return to Ullapool over the high ground. Two wheatears were spotted, making a nice change from meadow pipits, which in places were numerous. A greenshank flew over calling.

There was no stile or gate in the deer-fence as far as we could see, and as it wasn't sturdy enough to climb over (it wobbled alarmingly when I tried) we had no choice but to crawl through the hinged dog-flap. 

I found it quite difficult. I can't kneel and the only way I could do it was by sitting down and shuffling through feet first. Of course there was a damp muddy patch there, so I got a wet bum and also hurt my good knee into the bargain.

Eventually we climbed again - to the top of Maol Calasceig (302m) on the left of the picture. This lower hill is easily reached and much walked from Ullapool - hence the very marked path, which came as a relief after our struggles across the boggy, pathless moorland (and this was after a dry spell!) between this and our hill (to the right in picture). 

We walked down over Ullapool Hill, crossed the road, and we were home. The walk was just over 11 kilometres long. I drove Greger back to Leckmelm to get his car, and after a welcome shower and dinner we binge-watched Borgen until I fell asleep on the sofa.