Creag a’ Gheata
Peaks
Our friends visited over the weekend, with their beautiful baby, so I spent a good 48 hours being a great pseudo-uncle, doing everything possible to make a 9-month-old smile. We had the best autumn weather, which meant we got out to the loch with the dogs, looked at the stars in the evening and made pizzas outside.
But, with a long drive home, they left early on Sunday morning, leaving us to work out what to do with a beautiful day. We decided to get up one of the smaller hills across the road, so texted our friends in the village to see if they wanted to join.
We met at a bridge in the forest, scoffed a couple of hash browns that Kerry had brought along, and made our way up the foresty road. Eventually we reached an area where the pine trees were younger, and spotted a stag a few metres away. He spotted us too, so didn’t hang around.
After a while we turned off the road and into the trees again, on a narrow, boggy path. Single file for a while, we emerged into a clearing and views across to Ben Vane, Stob Binnein, Cruach Àrdrain and Beinn Tulaichean.
From here we climbed a very steep grassy bank (hands and knees stuff) before getting to the top of a small peak; Tom na Moine. The view here is incredible, down to Loch Lubnaig and over to Ardnandave and Ben Vane. It was sunny and dry too. A perfect spot for lunch.
That, in itself, would have been a great Sunday walk, but we came to do a hill. Behind us were Meall Mòr and Creag a’ Gheata. I wanted to see our house from the top, so opted for what we thought was the right one. After a few minutes trying to find a way over, through or round the large deer fence we were squelching across bog and then up the hill to the cairn at the top.
More views. Again of Loch Lubnaig, but also of Beinn Each, Stuc a’ Chroin and Ben Vorlich. But, annoyingly, not of our house. We’d picked the wrong hill!
With the sun getting lower and it being a Sunday, we decided to get the ‘right’ hill another time. Made our way down to the pub instead for fish and chips and an accidental burning of my walking poles.
