Photo Journal
11th December // Torridon
The Cuillins // N57.583 W-5.429
For my final day of my Highland Adventure I wanted a change of scenery from the Cuillins. Don't get me wrong, I was having a magical time on Skye, but with the cloud inversion conditions still confirmed I wanted to go back to a location I had previously visited but never actually seen the summits of - Torridon.
Similarly to the hike yesterday, I wanted to up the stakes, and so picked a route which involved a scramble, which would be a test of my abilities on the snow, as all my snowy outings before this were glorified hikes.
The route was also the longest distance of the three, so with the suggestion of a fiery sunrise from my hiking app I set off before sunrise. As the sky brightened the low lying clouds were backlit in pink, which slowly faded as the mist began to roll in through the glen. Between these two layers stood Sgùrr Dubh, its peak poking up through the inversion, contrasted against the orange clouds behind.
As the light started to dim, the mist flooded along the valley and I was quickly in its midst. Everything was still, frozen in place. I walked along the long path which wound around the mountainside. As I gained elevation, I soon noticed an increasing amount of snow on the floor, noticing the vague traces of other hikers' footsteps. I passed two groups who I never saw again.
As I passed around the corner and began the way up to Loch Coire Mhic Fhearchair everything was covered in snow. I could see ahead of me the impressive Triple Buttress' and I was taken aback by the fact that this sandstone is 1000 million years old, which predates multicellular life. That is to say, when this rock was being formed, life was nothing more than bacteria in the ocean.
The entire loch was frozen over except for a small portion at its outlet, so balanced on a slippery rock I captured a few panoramas, with the mountains reflected perfectly in the water.
The going had been made easy by the obvious footsteps making their way to the wall of the rock basin I was in. As I began my ascent I began to question the intention of the footsteps as they were slowly but surely heading towards an iced over waterfall. Looking forwards to the scree slope in the distance, I could see many other trails making their way over, one from the far left of the valley, and another seeming to begin from the middle of the snowy bank, and then trace its way along the base of the rock all and to the scree slope.
Breaking trail to meet this was tiring, and the effects on my body of 4 days of nonstop hiking with no rest could be felt. The scree slope itself was pretty straight forwards, with only one section causing me to take extra care where the snow had become thin and the rock was very loose.
As I emerged from the chute I felt that same joy of seeing the distant peaks floating above a sea of clouds, bathed in the sun's glow. I picked off some of the munro’s having to be careful about my footing to not damage my crampons on the rocky terrain, then make my way along the ridge to the final munro of my adventure; Spidean Coire nan Clach. I shared this with some other hikers, who I suspect were the ones who’s tracks I’d been following, as they'd attempted the ice climb but changed plans when they got there due to the ice not being thick enough.
I made my way down from here to perch on an outcrop, battling freezing toes by running on the spot and doing star jumps, until the sun finally set, illuminating the mountainside in pink. As I watched the changing sky I reflected on the entire trip and how much gratitude I was feeling towards my life in that moment. It felt hard to make the call to make the descent down to the car but I knew all things must come to an end, and what makes things beautiful is that they don't last. So with one final look back at the dying light, I made my way, one final time, down into the darkness below.
