Cuillin

This one definitely needs to be viewed large, if only to see the periscoping common seal a little better. This is the view from the tidal Holoman island, where we went for an afternoon stroll. There were more than a dozen seals on the furthest tip of the island, this one was one of the bolder ones, following me as I walked around and back.

The view of Skye across the Raasay Sound from here holds special memories. The steep, smooth saddle-backed mountain in the foreground is Glamaig, one of the granite Red Cuillins. Then beyond and to the right is part of the Black Cuillin range, jagged mountains made of volcanic gabbro, so rough it takes the skin off your hands when you climb on it. The pointy peak is Sgurr nan Ghillean, to the right is Am Basteir with the Basteir Tooth in the dip. Then comes Bruich na Frithe, not all of it visible. The rest of the range with its classic ridge walk is out of sight.

I have been up Sgurr nan Ghillean on several occasions and from different directions, most memorably on Simon's birthday 12 years ago (I think) when we were presented with a brocken spectre as we reached the top. That was a couple of days after we completed the Cuillin traverse in unseasonably hot weather in May. I was not in full fitness after a long illness, and when we got to Bruich na Frithe it became obvious that fatigue and dehydration had got the better of me. I couldn't go any further. We spent the night bivouaced on the top of the mountain, I had a rock for a pillow, and we sweated in plastic survival bags. The following morning my energies had returned and we finished off the ascents of Am Basteir and Sgurr nan Ghillean and headed back to the campsite and thence to Sligachan for a celebratory pint. Still one of the best experiences of my life.

Our afternoon this day on Raasay was an altogether gentler affair. After this, we walked down to the little bay at Inver. Any hope of a longer walk was scuppered by a blister on my heel the size of a half crown, the product of a walk up Dun Caan the previous morning in newish boots that I had wrongly thought were broken in. But Raasay isn't a place for big route marches, it is for gentle appreciation and contemplation. But there was just a tinge of sadness that this was our last full day.