A New Peak

Some of The Diary's readers may remember the days when small things which we almost take for granted today seemed very special - like the once-a-week bottle of wine (Liebfraumilch or Mateus Rose) to go with the meal on a Saturday night. It's a bit like that with the sun here at the moment.

All the forecasts we use - Yr.no, XCWeather and magicseaweed - promised that yesterday would be different from the run of 'weather' we've been enjoying, so we planned a long walk, both horizontally and vertically, to take full advantage of it. As with most of our walks, there had to be a target, something we hadn't reached before, so we chose what The Diary now calls Beinn na Seilg II, the un-named 310m hill immediately to the north of Beinn na Seilg (344m).

To reach it, we had to cross the ridge of Druim na Gearr Leacainn and drop down into the valley of the twin lochans before climbing into the saddle between Beinn na Seilg and Stacan Dubha - pictured, above, across one of the lochans. We then turned west, climbing across terrain that became increasingly rough and rocky until we reached the summit of Beinn na Seilg II. Although it was a better day, by that time the sun was only out for 50% of the time, and the wind, from the northwest, had risen to force five and turned distinctly chilly.

With the peak of Beinn na Seilg staring down on us, and only 24m higher, it seemed a waste not to reach it, so we dropped down into the intervening valley and scrambled up to the summit. By that time the wind was unpleasant so, each of us having placed a lump of rock on the summit cairn, we slid down the steep, southern slope into the twin lochan's valley again, and slogged our way home over Druim na Gearr Leacainn.

The last of the heather is dying on the hills, though there are some patches which are still bright with colour; and our efforts were rewarded in another way, when an eagle hung motionless, effortlessly, for minutes above the summit of Beinn na Seilg II.

But the main reward was, as always, the stunning, all-round views we had, this one looking from the slopes of Druim na Gearr Leacainn westwards across Kilchoan Bay to Ben Hiant.

A map of the walk area is here.

Droppings

....or, as The Diary's youngest daughter so quaintly terms it, 'poo'.

We came across two such piles of droppings on our walk yesterday. Can anyone identify what makes it?

Unusual....

Both these pictures are from 'Kilchoan Early Bird', the first entitled 'A Cow Having some Chow'. This isn't the first time we've seen Highlanders eating plastic - it seems to be a regular part of their diet. Perhaps we have a solution to the piles of plastic which get thrown away each year.

It's a lovely picture anyway.

'Kilchoan Early Bird' freely admits that, by comparison, this is a poor photo, but what it shows is very unusual - a magpie sitting on a fence at Achnaha. We don't have magpies out here. They're one of a number of birds, including wood pigeons, which shun the area, for reasons best known to them.

The Diary, remembering the ditty, 'One for sorrow, two for joy....', hopes it goes away.

Many thanks to 'Kilchoan Early Bird' for the pictures.

Maol Buidhe

Despite winds gusting well into force 7 and some sleety showers bouncing in from the northwest, we climbed Maol Buidhe, the 'yellow hill' that rises at the southwest end of Ormsaigbeg. It's our favourite short walk, an hour if it's taken briskly, but great exercise as the slopes are steep and much of the going fairly rough.

The top picture was taken almost exactly a year ago. This picture, looking across the Sound of Mull from the top of the hill, shows how windy it was yesterday. Ardmore Point light is visible to the right, and the bay opening to the left is Bloody Bay. Bloody Bay is the site of a crucial battle in the history of the Lords of the Isles, a grim struggle between father and son, the story told in a BBC programme here.

The ground, damp after days of rain, was perfect for the annual display of toadstools. While this fully grown specimen is light orange, the younger stages are bright red. The Diary knows nothing about toadstool identification so would be interested if any reader can suggest a name.

As we descended, we looked along the length of Ormsaigbeg towards the main village of Kilchoan, with the hill called Glas Bheinn, the grey hill, in the distance. This is a colourful village, with the yellow hill at one end and the grey at the other.

Mink Hunt - 1

There were a couple of very interesting comments on The Diary's post 'Cold-Blooded Murder' about the carnage wreaked by a mink in Tom Bryson's chicken runs over the past two weeks - if you haven't read them, they're here.

No-one can accuse Tom of not doing his level best to keep predators out of his runs. He was well aware of the dangers of keeping chickens in an area like this. But Tom's like so many of the people who live and work in this remote part of the world, taking on the added problems as part of the challenge and interest of the place.

The picture above shows his set-up, with a electric mesh, running at 3,000 volts off a photovoltaic cell, surrounding a coop secured by an electronic door which comes down in good time each evening. What Tom underestimated was the sheer wiliness of our mink, which not only managed to get under (or through) the electric mesh, but also forced up the door on the coop. Since this picture was taken, the fence has been more tightly secured to the ground, and the door has wood along its base so it can't be forced up.

Anyway, the hunt is now on for the wicked animal, with no less than four humane traps set around the croft. On Tuesday night all four were baited with the heads of the chickens which died on Monday night, and all the heads were gratefully removed by the mink, who must have thoroughly enjoyed his supper.

At this point Hughie MacLachlan joined the hunt, bringing a cockerel of his own, in a secure cage, to act as live bait to draw the mink to where the traps were located, while Tom baited the traps with fish. This morning the cockerel was dead, his head chewed off, and all the traps were empty.

This is some mink.