This is Suilven, the extraordinary mountain sticking up out of nowhere in the Scottish Highlands.
I first saw it from seaward on the way from Skye to Loch Nedd. That was supposed to be an easy day’s sail, reaching in a force 6-7 all the way. But it turned out the southeasterly of the forecast didn’t have much south in it. Clearly, I wouldn’t be getting there in daylight.
However, Lochinver was an alternative. I could be tucked up in there by teatime – no contest, really.
And Lochinver is the basecamp for Suilven. Of course I wasn’t going to climb Suilven. All I wanted was to make up for COVID scuppering the family walking weekend in the Peak District by taking a circular stroll around the River Inver (5kms, estimated time 1.5hrs according to the tourism website).
How I ended up on the path to Suilven, I have no idea but there it was, defiantly in the distance, changing colour as the afternoon sun played on its western face – always there and never getting any closer no matter how much I kept walking towards it.
In fact, I walked for two hours, pausing at the “honesty shop” at Glencanisp Lodge where you can make yourself a cup of tea and post the money through a hole in the wall. Then you can drink your tea while leafing through a book showing how a bunch of volunteers spent two years re-making the path and manhandling huge blocks of granite into a giant’s staircase to the summit. Clearly this was a serious undertaking but the more I walked towards the mountain, the more of a compulsion it became to get to the top: It was just so big – so impressive…
In the end of course, common sense re-established itself and I turned round. It was going to be two hours back again and dusk would be falling. Already, there was no longer anyone coming the other way wielding walking poles to dodge while keeping our social distance. This was no place to get lost overnight.
It was not until I was halfway home and met a man loading his mountain bike onto the roof of his car that things got shuffled into proportion. I explained that I would have to come back another time to get to the top. He said it was an eight-hour round trip from where we were standing – that meant ten hours from the harbour.
Ah, I was on a boat… that wasn’t me he had seen coming up the coast yesterday in a tiny little boat?
Well, not that tiny – almost ten metres if you don’t mind.
But he had watched me bashing to windward at the same time as a big ketch was heading south with hardly a scrap of sail and going like the clappers. He was impressed. He said: “Well if you can come up here in that weather in a little boat like that, you’ll have no trouble getting to the top of Suilven.”
So that’s settled then. Next year… It’s a matter of pride.