Drive West ! Drive fast !
Drive in hope !
We had been obliged to sleep in Pitlochry. The Highlands were wreathed in low cloud.
We hurried through Laggan and past the sombre Commandos.
Even past Loch Garry, and over the shoulder of hills, the valleys were filled with fog.
And then,
Behold !! Glen Moriston filled with sunlight. Loch Cluanie glittered under a blue sky. The fields frozen after a clear night.
No time to waste, a good pace up the remembered stalkers track, and into the snow at 500 metres by noon.
The Forcan Ridge of The Saddle (II) was a little bare for the first 50 metres,
But the route soon became an entertaining mixture of snow, rocks, and occasional ice patches.
I held off roping up as long as possible, to make best time. A couple of dangled slings got Paul and Mark up an awkward corner behind me.
At last, some steep-ish snow of about 18 metres beckoned, above a drop of ten times that. So Prudence (sweet girl) called for the rope.
We kept it on, moving together through spikes on the rocky crest with the occasional sling.
Suddenly, what's all that tat ? At the abseil point already, and down the little gulley. Then across some lovely snow aretes which we enjoyed in relaxed fashion as the technical section was over.
As we approached the summit of The Saddle, the sun spilt orange into the western skies. The peaks of Knoydart loomed to the south. And out in the western sea, the profile of Eigg.
Easy snow slopes led down from the summit, alongside the ridge. We stopped for tea.
I remembered this ridge with friends in the nineties, with Jack and Angela as Dolomites practice in 2000, and with Adam from the Czech republic in 2008. "Hore Zdar" ! as he said.
Grommit would have been pleased. It was a grand day out.
ANDREW
