Ben Wyvis (again!)
We set off from the car park at just after 8.30am on this very still, warm morning; there were plenty of midges about so we donned midge hats and kept them on as we walked up through the forest.
It's difficult to see birds through the black netting and the hats make your head hot, so it was a relief to pack them away when we reached the open moorland. As we climbed steadily, a red grouse erupted from the heather below - and for the first time, we clearly heard "Go back!" in its call.
Meanwhile more walkers had arrived in the car park and were now catching up and passing us. We didn't care. Neither of us felt in the best of condition, and we said we'd just be content if we got to the top - eventually! Arriving at the summit of An Cabar we sat down in the soft moss and had lunch and discussed whether we should go down or not. A pair of ravens flew over calling, and meadow pipits were everywhere.
Refreshed, we decided we'd continue and wandered slowly along the broad airy ridge. Why hurry anyway, when it was so nice up there? By the time we reached the trig point, quite a few walkers had already departed. This was Greger's sixth visit to the summit (Glas Leathad Mor) and my eighth.
We sat on the rim of the sweeping Coire na Feola (Corrie of Flesh) for coffee and chocolate Hobnobs; and I remarked how difficult it was to convey the grandeur of this vast grassy bowl in a photograph. Another walker wandered over then and commented on how much ice must have accumulated here to form such a corrie. I'm glad he did, because I must admit I was simply enjoying the view without thinking; but then, as this was the hottest September day in Scotland for 115 years, thoughts didn't naturally turn to the chilly realities of an ice age!
We wandered back towards An Cabar, and at the summit cairn we took pictures along the ridge as we often do these days in case we never get up here again. (This time, I really think it could be our last visit!)
Although I'd known dotterel were unlikely this late, I was still downhearted at not seeing any. But in any case the sheer numbers of walkers (some with dogs) probably put paid to the chance of any sightings, even had there been a lingerer or two. And we were much too tired to continue to the last, little-visited top on the main ridge or to explore any of the lonelier spurs.
We started our descent, and after a rest at the big rock we continued wearily down; but I kept looking back in hopes of ptarmigan as this is the lowest you're likely to see them. And suddenly, there was one! I scrambled a little way along the hillside to get rid of intervening grasses which, however slender, still throw the focus out - and managed one decent shot of what I think is probably an immature bird. I couldn't help laughing at the old-fashioned looks it was giving me - and when I moved back to the path, I was pleased to see it was still there.
This was a delightful encounter that saved the day - but we still had a long way to go. The often deep stones that make up the path slowed me down, with my bad knee protesting against being bent too far. I had the odd spasm in my thigh muscles that often precedes cramp - but fortunately, this didn't materialise. Greger was just as tired but led the way with determination; I wanted to stop and rest more often, but that wouldn't get us down, so followed as best I could. By the time we got back to my car, I was in a pathetic state and resigned myself to the thought that this really is the end of - not all hillwalking, but maybe going up the 3,000 footers.
At about 10.30 tonight, I went outside and heard redshanks again. This time, the birds were flying around rather than heading south. Against the dark night sky where a few stars could be seen, a faint, white, ghostly blur moved towards the loch. A bit later, I heard calls again and then, much closer, a flock of birds went over looking very white but almost countable - some fifteen to twenty, I reckoned. Again, although they seemed to be flying south, they then wheeled round and headed over towards the loch. Great stuff - but I was almost asleep on my feet, so I turned my back on the great outdoors, firmly closed the door, and went to bed.
