THE SCOTTISH Mountaineering Club Journal. VOL. XII. FEBRUARY 1912. No. 67. AS HEAVEN'S WATER DEALETH-TO GLEN AFFRIC AND GLEN SHIEL. BY WM. ANDERTON BRIGG. OUR previous experiences of Scottish weather had been more boisterous than pleasant, and "Skye in rain, Schiehallion in storm, Arran in mist, the Cairngorms in blizzard, Ben Nevis in fog, Glencoe in spate"-if I may quote from another source *—is not an unfair summary of them. But these had all been early in the season, and we were entitled to hope for something better at Midsummer, especially in such a year as 1911. When, therefore, Garden asked Greenwood and myself to spend the Coronation Week with him and J. A. Parker in the wildest recesses of Rossshire, we decided to give Scotland one more chance, and excusing ourselves from an invitation to join in the pleasures of That majestic and sonorous day When London was one gaze at her own joy, we took our courage-and our tickets-in both hands, and accepted. Our programme embraced the mountain ridges on both sides of the head waters of Glen Affric and the south * Yorkshire Ramblers Journal, iii. 154. LXVII. A side of Glen Cluanie and Glen Shiel, and included the fine peaks of Carn Eige, Mam Sodhail, Sgurr Fhuaran, the Saddle, and Maol Chinn Dearg. The district has already been more or less fully described by various writers in this Journal (see the Bibliographical Note, post, pp. 11-12), but it is not, I believe, well known, even to members of the S.M.C., and this must be my excuse "a false Southron "-for inflicting this paper on them. I need hardly say that all this part of Scotland is "under deer," and accommodation for the mere tourist or climber, especially now that the Shiel Inn is closed, is, like angels' visits, few and far between, and practically confined to the hospitality afforded by the landlords or their lessees. But Garden knows how to "work the office," and thanks to him we found our way made smooth and could truly say our feet were "set in a large room." The fine weather was showing signs of breaking up when we left Yorkshire in the afternoon of the 21st June, it grew worse as we sped north, and when we reached Inverness at 5 A.M. next morning to find the gay bunting that adorned the Station Square drooping under a steady drizzle, we could only say to each other: "I told you so!" But a hot bath, a change into climbing kit, and Garden's smiling face at breakfast, restored our courage, and we set off in a motor car at 7.30 A.M. for Benula Lodge in Glen Cannich, by way of Drumnadrochit, Glen Urquhart, and Invercannich. We reached the keeper's cottage opposite Benula Lodge at 11.30 A.M., and after sheltering there long enough to drink to the new-crowned King in hot milk, crossed the burn to its south side, dismissed the car, shouldered our rucksacks, and started up the path which leads from Benula Lodge to Glen Affric Lodge. It had rained most of the way, and rain and wind were still our portion as we plugged steadily up the hill side, Loch Mullardoch looming below us in the mist, past a fine waterfall, as far as the shoulder of the hill where the path turns over to the left, and then swinging to the right made up the slopes to the summit of Tom a' Choinich |