Beinn a’Chochuill and Beinn Eunaich

It amazes me every time how bright the moon can be on a clear night. I camped in one of the forestry commission car parks – miles away from any light pollution – and spent a fair amount of time standing outside the van staring at the sky. My phone put up a fair effort to capture it in a picture (kindly proving I didn’t imagine it).

The next day I had two hills on my hit-list – Beinn a’Chochuill and Beinn Eunaich. These are the two that sit behind the Ben Cruachan ridge which I’d walked back in September. I was a bit trepidacious when squeezing the van into a teeny-tiny layby – not just about the van-squeezing but also about the amount of ice I could see up on the the ridge (I hadn’t managed to get myself a pair of crampons by this point). But I set off anyway to give it a shot and soon realised the ice was really on Ben Cruachan and its shoulders, not so much my hills, so I had no excuse to do anything other than crack on.

I was greeted by the welcome-party of heilan’ coos. For the most part they stared at me with bemusement as I walked among them, trying not to step in their cow-pies, meanwhile also taking a video and (most importantly) doing my best to look “casual”. They didn’t seem particularly impressed. I was though – they were a bunch of stunners.

The route soon became a steep walk up a grassy slope. “Lovely”, I thought sardonically. Though I realised it actually had been rather lovely when I got over the top and discovered this steep wall of grass had been sheltering me from the extremely icy wind a-blowing at the top the whole time. This wind isn’t remotely interested that you’re wearing gloves, it’s gonna freeze your fingers off anyway. I got a move on along the ridge to the first summit (further than I expected, as always), took my uber-quick-pics, and about-turned in search of shelter for a sandwich! While I’d be busying along the ridge, the sky behind me had been developing away, readying itself for my snapping of pictures.

I was starting to think the wind was going to succeed in its vendetta against my fingers. But… sister to the rescue! My sis had bought me some handwarmers as a slightly-jokey Christmas present. But joke is on her (or maybe the joke is on the wind?) because I whapped them into my gloves and my hands were too hot again in no time! While I had been busy fussing about handwarmer and glove arrangments, the views had been getting better and better.

The light in Scotland can rival the wind in its ability to take your breath away. Especially in Winter. No amount of cold stops me from getting the camera out to try and capture it, even though no picture ever truly does it justice. Because when its in front of you, you feel it as much as you see it. I’m struggling to choose my favourite of the following pictures, so I’m not going to, and will just add them all instead. Feel free to pick your own favourite.

I eventually turned my back to the wind and let it not-so-gently push me along my walk down. I had the joy of walking along a long ridge, with the slowly setting sun to my side.

Once I was back down to Earth, I sauntered along the track to report back to the coos on my successful walk. One of them had also had a successful day, achieving clear dominance on the hay pile which was now more bed than it was food. I congratulated him on his achievement (he seemed pretty non-plussed about mine).