At last, a clear sky — a mountain day. Sgùrr Dhomhnuill is the highest peak in Ardgour, at 2,913 feet, just falling short of Munro status. It’s a Corbett, a class of mountains in Scotland between 2,500 and 3,000 feet tall with a prominence of at least 500 feet. There are 222 of them, and no, I won’t be adding them to my bucket list, wishing to preserve what sanity remains.
Sunlit early morning mist drifts through the ethereal oakwood. I read somewhere that this is a “thin place”, one where a gossamer veil separates the physical and spiritual worlds. You could believe it at a moment like this.
Storm Amy left her mark.
Emerging from the forest, the path follows the contours to the spoils of old lead mines, more famous for the discovery of a new ore, strontianite, and a new element, Strontium, named after the village.
Leaving the mine workings, I lose the path.
It’s a lovely broad ridge walk with a steep climb up to the top of Sgùrr na h-Ighinn before dropping down again for the final ascent.
The summit looms, approached by a clear path winding up and round to the right.
There are dramatic views from the large cairn, wave after wave of mountain peaks running to the horizon. The mighty Black Cuillin range on Skye must be in there somewhere. The forbidding Rough Bounds certainly are. They all lie ahead, excitement building and more than a little trepidation.
On the way down, retracing my steps, I try to find one of the mine shafts marked on the OS map, but it appears to be sealed and covered over now.
Next day
I awake to the first light frost of autumn. There’s a little time before my bus to Fort William, so I chat with the owner of Cafe Sunart. She’s served breakfast to several coastal walkers, and I recognise some of their names. There are bats round her croft and lots of pine martens. She is not quite so thrilled as I am.
“Damn pests. Eating all my chickens.”
Ah, ever the city boy.
Well, I learnt a lot this trip. In November, I continue into the remote Ardnamurchan Peninsula, armed with my winter sleeping bag.
Total distance: 5,429 miles.
Ah….pine martens…very cute but unlike foxes they kill chickens for fun not food – quite a frenzied affair I’m told 🫣
For fun! They are dropping down my cuteness list. 😱
Great views. Two friends completed their Munro round earlier this year and have now embarked on the Corbetts. Mad!
Haha! It keeps us going and motivated. I might consider that if I lived in Scotland.
A fantastic mountain day.
I’m all for pine martens – studies have shown that they have a big impact upon grey squirrel populations, to the benefit of the red squirrels. Pine Martens have recently been re-introduced into Grisedale Forest in the Lake District.
That puts them back up the list! 🙂