Lagangarbh

Monday, August 16, 2010
Glencoe , Scotland, United Kingdom
Lagangarbh Mountain Hut is situated in the Highlands at the foot of Buachaille Etive Mor, an imposing mountain surrounded by purple heather, blue Devil's bit scabious and vicious Scottish midges.

It is one of those places so remote, that I wasn't given an address by the custodian, merely a grid reference . The water supply has a brown tinge and tastes of peat. All drinking water needs to be boiled, and the warning sign inside the hut suggested we should be careful not to swallow water whilst showering. We like to live dangerously, however, and managed to live through the week unscathed, despite brushing our teeth in the unboiled bog-water that came out of the tap.

The hut is separated from the track by a brook with a footbridge and a short hike through the heather. Everything had to be carried up to the cottage in several trips. We had the place to ourselves, notwithstanding the odd hiker peering through the window as he or she passed. (We usually caught a glimpse of their rapidly retreating form, legging it away down the glen in an embarrassed manner, once they realised the hut was occupied.)

The Met Office had threatened rain for Tuesday. The cloud obscured the top of Beinn Bheag opposite, despite it being half the height of Ben Nevis . We hung around the hut, barricading ourselves in against the blackfly. There was a lack of toys for the kids, which probably precipitated the building of Stonehenge out of Jenga bricks before venturing out.

Glencoe, the valley, is amazing - sheer mountains rise almost vertically from the flat bottomed valley floor. It is nearly a perfect U shape, carved by glaciers over 10,000 years ago. We stopped at several scenic parking spots to take photos in the mist. There was a waterfall, which was pretty, but the stars of the show were the mountains. The colours seemed intense in the damp air - green, brown, grey and white.

A highland piper serenaded multi-national tourists with his bagpipes. Tour buses from all over the world stopped in the lay-by disgorging their cargo to look at the scenery. The drone from the bagpipes carried down into the valley, where we and just a handful of others were walking.

Most tourists stopped only long enough to take a photo of themselves standing next to the strange musician in his kilt, before leaping back into the safety of their cars and tour buses. I see the hills and want to walk on them, to really experience them. Others see a pretty view. 'Snap' and it is stored away in digital memory. Experience over.

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