Choosing not to do Ben Nevis I set off first on a superb journey down Glen Shiel, Mam Ratagan and down to the sea at Glenelg. The sea was deepest blue and the Cuillin’s were white, not red or black! I set off up the hillside.
No respite, just a diagonal incline across towards the West Ridge. Lots of dead trees covered the hillside, some bright green with parasitic holly. Feeling like an arty photographer, I clicked away at bits of tree, and sea and sky and snow.
A large herd of deer were disturbed on the ridge and they weren’t sure whether to run, but as I got nearer, so they scattered across the snow. Ascending the ridge the snow got deeper and icier. Ice-axe retrieved and crampons donned and suddenly the ice and snow became much easier. Height was gained rapidly, ascending through ice covered rocks, up snow filled gullies and steep
The views were breathtaking, including Ben Nevis (I waved), Liathach, Skye and Mull. There was little wind, so a delightful picnic ensued, before the descent along a narrow ridge and re-ascent to the second summit. There were a few breezy moments, but I soon warmed up again.
The descent was steep and screey, and it was easier when covered in snow. Reaching the bottom of the snow I removed my crampons, put away my ice-axe, took off my shirt and vest, and rolled down my socks. The path went down by a stream full of delightful waterfalls.
I decided to tackle some, and do some burn-scrambling, only to discover that the rock was slippery, crumbly and altogether unpleasant. But the cool water was refreshing. A few dams were built, and destroyed – such childish fun!
The drive back was uneventful, and I got back and greeted Andrea in front of the fire. We began to cook dinner and then we were six. Dinner was soon cooked and left to be kept warm.
But they didn’t return, and we wondered when to get worried. By 9.25 I could bear it no longer and I went to the cottage and rang the police in Fort William. Via a lot of questions, designed to identify me properly I was passed to a policeman who gave me a formal statement about the incident (see elsewhere). I couldn’t think of any questions to ask so I returned to the lodge. Telling the others, they thought of all the guestions I should have asked. For an hour our minds wandered over all the possibilities. At one moment the dining room (fire) erupted, and full of nervous tension we rushed through, but it wasn’t going up in flames. Whisky was now needed all round.
Not long after we decided to eat, the others got back. Subdued, and exuberant conversations alternated, and it was late when, after a joint decision that tomorrow was a wimping day, we retired to bed.
David G.