A good circular walk of about a dozen miles, featuring that particular path, runs from the foot of Gleann Lacasdail over the hill to Loch Trolamaraig and then through the old cleared village of Garry-aloteger to Rhenigidale.
There is always something inspiring about stepping onto the ferry at Ardrossan for a hillwalking trip to the beautiful island of Arran.
As I arrived in Rackwick Bay strong winds were whipping up a healthy swell and the roar of the waves crashing onto the boulder-strewn beach added to the wild misty atmosphere.
Rum has always held people at arms-length. Until recently you had to apply for permission to land on the island, but these days rules have been relaxed and you are free to explore.
A short week on Skye means the Cuillin. It means some huge western seacliffs; it means popping across to Raasay. Yet my week was up, and I’d not yet got north for Skye’s weird pinnacle adventure, beloved of Victorian ladies in long skirts.
The day broke bright and breezy, keeping the midges at bay while I ate breakfast on a fertile, flower-scattered carpet of Machair. I was wild camping at Huisinis for a few days, taking time to explore the peninsula that extends west from the old whaling station at Bun Abhainn Eadarra.
Many people visit the majestic Isle of Arran to climb the superb group of Corbetts rising from her eastern shores. But by choosing that alone, you are denying yourself the opportunity to climb the equally fantastic hills to the west. Beinn Bhreac, Beinn Bharrain and the group’s highest, Mullach Buidhe, provide a walk that is equal to anything that Goat Fell et al can offer.
I had a score to settle with Glamaig after turning back before reaching the summit on a previous visit. I’ve got a list of excuses for that one but now it was time to put those to bed and enjoy this fine mountain, which dominates the skyline as it rises dramatically above Sligachan.
Leaving Huisinis, where I’d been camping, I cycled east for the start of a day walk with Tiorga Mor as its high point. An undulating road carried me to Abhainn Suidhe and through a stone archway into the manicured gardens of Abhuinnsuidhe Castle.
You can lose yourself in the fantastically rough and rocky hills that grace the west coast of Lewis. Here the Uig Hills are a firm reminder that bigger isn’t always best. You can relish picking your way through jumbled rock-strewn slopes and drink in views fit for a king.
Skye is not just the Cuillin hills. Long rugged peninsulas stretch to north and west. Some translate the island’s Gaelic name, An t-Eilean Sgitheanach, as the Winged Isle; this refers to the peninsulas, swept back like a seagull in a stiff gale. Etymology aside, here is country quite different from the celebrated Cuillins – but every bit as wild.
One advantage of trying to fit a long walk into a short winter day is the joy of watching the sunrise and invariably the sunset. But with sunrise still some way off, the stars did little to illuminate my way as I negotiated the frost-speckled single track road across the Ardmeanach peninsula.
Islay, the southernmost of the Inner Hebrides, is an island for lovers of beautiful coastlines, bird life and, particularly, malt whisky – but not really an island for hillwalkers. Much of Islay is flat and the highest summit, Beinn Bheigier, only reaches 491 metres (1610ft). It’s a truly wonderful viewpoint however and well worth the half-day it takes to climb.
