Wilderness Harris II - 03/03/05

Another Harris day, and once more I head down to Vigadale. There are extensive roadworks between Aline and Scaladale, which are intended to double the single-track road. Takes 12 months, from the start in October 2004. In pouring rain, I jump off the bus and head west up the glen. The snow is down to low levels, about 600 ft. Towards the top of the pass, 190m, the snowcover is closed, and it's a bit slushy. Ice covers the puddles. I head down to the riverbank, but even after half a mile of trudging upstream I cannot see a way across, save wading. It's too cold for that, so I make for a gap in the hills, immediately south of Mullach an Langa. This turns out to be a dangerous undertaking. I trap myself in the narrow gorge of a river, having to negotiate some very awkward moves, and the snowcover increasing as I ascend. The pass broadens out at altitude 290m, in the snow. I now head southeast, into Glen Scaladale. I encounter a herd of deer on the high levels. My view is restricted due to low cloud, but Clisham should be out there prominently. My policy not to want to lose height nearly proves disastrous at Creag Mo. At 2pm, I get this fantastic view east over Glen Scaladale and Loch Seaforth. A bit too fantastic really. I was aware of Creag Mo, and had noticed the start of rocky outcrops to my right. Also the massive rockface below the Clisham with the little lochans below. As views continue to improve, the ground begins to tilt down....... no further progress possible horizontally. I retrace my steps to the start of the rocks, then head southeast along the edge of the escarpment. It's pissing down with rain, which makes the ground very slippery. The descent towards the valley bottom is slow and arduous as I have to go from 200 to 70 metres altitude across 250 m horizontally. As I make my way east, the face of Creag Mo rears up above me. Shock horror. The thing is a vertical cliff face of 150 to 200 m in height. I stood at the edge of a 150 m (500 ft) drop... shit. Trembling, I proceed down the valley, still in pouring rain and along and through running water. At 3pm, I reach the roadbridge. Being cold and miserable, I have a cup of tea under the bridge, then head up to Creag Chaise, waiting for the bus by the start of the old postroad to Tarbert. The busdriver is not pleased, because I initially purchased a return to Bogha Glas, and I'm 2 miles south of there. Once again, Sally joins me at Balallan, and we chat away into town.