Rough time of it with Marilyn for company
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SOME hills just don’t make it easy for you. There are lots of them in the Highlands – mostly not well frequented – but if you’re prepared to make the effort to get up them the rewards can be great, in a physical as well as a scenic sense.
Sgurr Marcasaidh is one such hill. Standing at 580 metres (just under 2000ft) it’s not especially high. If you’re into classifications it’s a Marilyn – a hill in the UK, Irish Republic or Isle of Man with a height of at least 150 metres (492ft).
Its main virtue is that it affords some spectacular views – particularly of Ben Wyvis, the Strathconon hills and the Fannichs.
I got the notion to climb it after studying the section of the OS 1:50,000 Inverness map that covers one of my favourite cycle rides – a circuit starting from the Forestry Commission car park just north of Contin, coming round Strathconon to Marybank and back.
A left turn off the main road shortly after the exit from the car park takes you onto a quiet minor road round the north side of picturesque Loch Achilty.
The only fly in the ointment here is the hideous Fairburn wind farm circling Orrin reservoir, which completely spoils the view for miles in every direction.
And before long it will be joined by yet another eyesore – the Loch Luichart wind farm, now under construction.
Today I was kitted up for a hill climb and cycling in boots, carrying my rucksack. It was a cold start and I stepped up the pace to get warm, enjoying the ride and smiling to myself over a braying donkey in a nearby field. Six kilometres of riding brought me to Luichart power station, the business end of the hydro scheme fed by Loch Luichart, high above.
A sharp left turn takes the road over a bridge across the River Conon. Shortly after this and before Little Scatwell a track bears right into woods.
I hoped to cycle as far as possible up the hill along this track, but a locked gate halted my progress after just over a kilometre – too high to lift the bike over. Crossing the gate I continued on foot up a now tarmaced road, climbing steeply through a hairpin bend to reach a house.
There was no sign of life as I walked past and on through a narrow shelter belt of pines. Approaching the far side of the plantation in the quiet of the morning, a big stag stepped out of the forest onto the track. We looked at each other until I clapped my hands a few times and he shot off up the hillside. At a bend in the track I decided to follow the stag’s example, aiming for a line left of some crags. The going was tough and completely pathless apart from a few deer tracks. As I struggled upwards through bracken and heather, a little wren bobbed about among the foliage just a foot or so away, seemingly oblivious to my presence. In the sky above a red kite circled effortlessly, making a mockery of my bumbling efforts.
Finally I reached the ridge and a view over Loch Luichart, just visible far below and across to a white-cloaked Ben Wyvis.
Any hope that the going would be easier along the ridge soon vanished as I trudged again over pathless ground, dodging pools of water, planting my feet on grassy tussocks. After two kilometres of this purgatory I at last reached the trig point marking the summit of Sgurr Marcasaidh.
Knowing the descent would not be easy, I lost height to reach Loch a’ Bhealaich, a lochan cradled in the hollow between Sgurr Marcasaidh and the next top on the ridge, Sgurrachd Ire. From the head of the lochan I descended south-east with less difficulty than I anticipated to reach the far end of the track I’d left at the beginning of the walk.
From there it was an easy 2.5km back to the bike and the ride out to the Forestry Commission car park.
