Christine's walking & birds blog

Sgurr nan Each

The surface of Loch a' Bhraoin was almost perfectly still at 6.30 this morning - and grey, green, or blue, depending on whether it reflected land or sky.


A common sandpiper was snoozing on the triangular rock and Greger spotted a dipper flashing away downstream; but best of all was a red-throated diver. We had heard it calling before we could see the loch, and hurried through the plantation with fingers crossed it would still be there.



Some recce work by Greger the previous day led us off the path to this bridge; we felt it was worth the detour and extra distance to avoid the awkward stepping-stone crossing of the river.


Rejoining the path, we set off up the valley that we have come to know so well, heading for our last Munro on the eastern side of the river. Once past the first Munro on this ridge we were making our way past the second, when the pointed top of Sgurr nan Each (923m) came into view.


After the 6 kilometre, steadily-rising slog through the valley it didn't take long to get up to the col. We rested there and had a drink, looking up to Sgurr nan Clach Geala (our previous Fannaich) and across the valley to Sgurr Mor. I found a couple of tiny bugs (diving beetles?) and a larger beetle in the small pools on the col, before setting off for the summit.


After the rocky path below and then the boggy flank, the hard dry path across short, tundra-like vegetation was a delight. Sgurr nan Each's eastern slopes are steep and unassailable, and the path keeps close to the edge for much of the way. A short, very easy rock scramble gave dizzying views of Allt a' Choire Mhoir, rushing and splashing in a series of falls to its end in lonely Loch Fannich; and then it was the final pull to the summit cairn.






We walked a little way down onto soft moss and ate our lunch, looking over an inviting plateau to the distant mountains of Torridon. The bare patch on the left of the picture is probably a deflation surface, where an exposed area (usually on sandstone) has been stripped of vegetation by persistent strong winds.


I'd hoped to walk down onto the plateau, finding a way back down to the valley path from the next col - although this would obviously have made an even longer walk on the valley path. But when we realised that the large deer herd we could see grazing down there was composed of hinds and calves, we decided to leave them in peace. (The presence of calves made sense of the hind barking at us on our previous hill-walk.)


We stayed up here for some time - three other walkers meanwhile arriving, lunching, and leaving again - but at last we dragged ourselves away and set off back down. I kept an eye and an ear open for ring ouzel, as we had seen one on this ridge before. But nothing doing today.


Down on the path again, we found ourselves surrounded by meadow pipits - and that was it, as far as birds were concerned. The birds on the loch - together with a snipe, flushed from the side of the track right at the start of the walk - had been the best of the day. No birds had been seen above the valley - only a bumblebee (probably buff-tailed) and a medium-sized black beetle close to or on the summit. And on the flank of the hill, several frogs.


We couldn't be bothered with the muddy detour this time, and followed the path to the cairned crossing point of the river. Greger got across the river on stones, some of them submerged, and without caring at this stage about getting wet feet. However, while still up on the summit, I'd had a bit of a fright; I was sitting down and had taken off my boot to put a fresh plaster on my sore heel. When I pulled my knee further in to get my boot back on, it felt as though my hip was cramping, or about to go out of joint. I straightened my leg out slowly and stood up carefully, my hip seemingly okay again - but now, I was scared of slipping on a wet stone and doing something to it, so I decided to go barefoot using only dry stones and paddling where there weren't any. Bare feet give better grip.


Greger had kindly offered to cross back again and take my boots and camera, but I wouldn't let him - so he sat on the bank and took a series of pics of me instead.

The last thing we saw was a helicopter (identified by Greger as a Squirrel) which hovered over Sgurr nan Clach Geala, then crossed the valley and hovered over Sgurr Breac before going down out of sight; eventually it rose again above the hill and flew off to the east. We didn't think it could be a rescue with that particular type of helicopter, and Greger said it was probably a rich Munro-bagger, doing it the easy way! The length of our walk was 15 kilometres.