ENORMOUS big things, and seeing as Sutherland is a big-sky county you get to see the clouds in their entirety as they pile in:

Snow showers have a subtly different appearance to rain clouds, as though there's less light getting through the precipitation.  The snow falls the same colour as the cloud itself, as though the cloud itself is falling to the ground in great big strands.  Not far from the truth I suppose.

But they therefore appear like giant dark grey curtains from the sky to the ground, and are quite an intimidating sight as they build and approach:

This particular shower didn't leave much more than a dusting but it was lovely to see snow falling again.  Big fat flakes :)

Despite the previous day's exertions I was feeling a tad lazy sitting about doing nothing so I decided to go for a walk up the hill that overlooks Forsinard, just up the road.

It's got an aerial at the top that needs maintaining so there's a handy vehicle track all the way up.  A perfect short outing I reckoned, and I tried to time it in between the snow showers.

Sutherland was looking wintry and intimidating under the cloud, but glorious for it:

I actually hoped I might get some of those end-of-the-day photos when that perfect low light is cast by the sun through a retreating snow shower.  It's a combination that has proved very rewarding in the past......and it *kind of* got there today, but not quite:

And then the fog engulfed the summit just as I got there.  I thought maybe the speed the showers were rattling through would mean the cloud would soon clear.....so I milled about at the summit in subzero temperatures waiting for the brightness to return.

40 minutes later, it hadn't returned.  I'd spent 40 minutes sheltering behind the aerial buildings and doing a long and protracted jig to stay warm, bouncing from leg to leg.  Bonkers perhaps, but I kept telling myself one has to suffer for one's art.

But I eventually gave up as it was getting dark and headed down the hill and back to the car.  Typically, the cloud lifted when I was half way back.

A lazy evening....and then when I popped out for some more fire wood I was surprised to find a fresh carpet of snow on the ground.  Ooo excitement!

The wee cottage really looks the part now :)

And standing there by the log store in complete darkness I looked up at the stars.  There are very few places on the mainland UK where you can get as dark a sky as this.  No lights locally, no big towns nearby to offer up distant light pollution. 

And what a view.  My camera can't do it justice so I didn't try, but the Milky Way was clearly visible arcing across the sky.  Not in that 'look just to one side and it will appear' kind of way.  It wass properly visible like a big cloud streaking overhead.

So beautiful, and absolutely still as well. 

Sadly, yesterday was also the last day in Kinbrace and in spite of the turbulent weather this week I've managed to see a great deal.  Dunnet Head, Duncansby Head, the Whaligoe Steps and a steady supply of dark and brooding skies.  Getting up Ben Klibreck was the icing on the cake of course and I admit I'd have been disappointed if I hadn't managed to get up there or indeed even managed ONE hillwalking day.

But in retrospect, given the fact the hills were battered by 100mph winds for half of the week I realise I've been bloody lucky to get any hillwalking done whatsoever :)

So a great first week in beautiful Sutherland, and there's still plenty to see when I next head up this way.

Today......I'm off to the wet, soggy wilds of Assynt.  Can't wait, not least because there is new snow on the ground and there is sunshine forecast tomorrow.  The drive around the north coast to Lochinver is sure to be spectacular.

I'm not sure I'll have internet access once there so it might be a while before I can upload Day Six.

Until next time!

Day Eleven - The Final Day

Day Ten

Day Nine

Day Eight

Day Seven

Day Six

Day Five

Day Four

Day Three

Day Two

Next morning dawned cloudy but I headed along the road to Altnaharra, eager for my first glimpse of Ben Klibreck, because if it was clear now it would probably be clear all day.

And there it was!  A snowy peak well clear of the cloud above, and what's more the sun was coming out! 

I was ecstatic.  Parking the car I headed straight up the broad ridge line and gained height quickly.  The summit reared up ahead in the distance:

Two large cairns sat atop Cnoc Sgriadain, a lower hill on the way to the summit:

As I gained height the vast open spaces of northwest Scotland opened up in every direction, but especially out to the west.  Views reached out across a rusty brown landscape far towards Loch Shin and on to the magnificent Ben More Assynt in the distance:

Farther up the hill, two bright white blotches against the snow caught my eye.  Ptarmigan in their winter plumage, wisely sticking to the few remaining snow patches:

Ben Loyal in the distance:

There were a few (mercifully frozen) peat hags to negotiate on the way up:

They were more a nuisance than an annoyance but once up on the ridge line, Ben Klibreck loomed into view and looked even more enticing in the sunshine.  I still couldn't quite believe it was clear!  Even farther north I could see Ben Hope, capped with snow:

From this distance Ben Klibreck's conical summit was clearly white but the big question was whether it was snow or ice.  Chances are it wasn't snow, given the strength of the winds over the previous three days.....but I continued to hope.

Not because I don't like ice, but more because I don't like walking on crampons very much.  If it's hard, crusty snow then it's not so bad but when it's just plain old ice, smooth and glassy then I never feel completely comfortable balancing on those metal teeth.

Worse still is when the ice is bumpy and uneven.  You're never quite sure which way your ankles are going to bend on terrain like that.

Even when I was standing at the foot of the final haul I couldn't tell either way, but I reasoned it was probably ice:

I shouldn't have been surprised at what I found.  After extreme cold and heavy snow followed by a thaw, a refreeze, three days of 100mph winds scouring every last grain of snow off the hill, freezing rain and then a hard frost.......the top half of the mountain was easily the iciest conditions I have ever seen on a Scottish hill. Weird bubbly ice covered absolutely every surface:

No hard glassy ice here, it was undulating and bumpy and scoured, and was pasted like a glaze on absolutely everything.  Outcrops of rock exposed to the wind had acquired a foot or more of ice, which grew outwards in a jumbled fashion:

Crampons and ice axe were absolute necessities! 

Upon attaining the summit there was the startling image of the summit trig point, which had more than doubled in size:

Northwards, Ben Loyal's outline revealed how close the north coast was:

I stared southeastwards beyond the edge of Ben Klibreck's bulk and felt a wee bit depressed at the thought of the windfarm planned for the high hills in the middle-left of this photo close to the loch you can see:

As far as you could see in every direction there was barely a trace of human existence other than the conifer plantations.  To approve a 27-turbine windfarm, each 121m high in one of the last remaining wild areas of Scotland seemed reckless and short-sighted.

I couldn't help but feel the day was ending on a downer, but I kind of knew that would be the case.  The fact that the hills east of here are about to be industrialised and Ben Klibreck is set to lose its status as a remote hill set amidst a remote and empty landscape, played a large part in why I chose to come to Sutherland this week.  I wanted to get up this hill and see it before the damage is done.

Fittingly perhaps, the sun then disappeared and everything felt a bit colder and gloomier.

Heading down was a simple task of retracing my steps back over the same hills.  I very rarely do step-retracing, preferring to do circular walks, but given the bogginess of the surrounding countryside I thought I'd stick to the high ground which I knew wouldn't be too bad:

Looking back up at where I'd been, the summit no longer in the sunshine.  Perfect timing:

Two hours later I was back at the car.  I had a beautiful drive home, stopping every ten minutes or so to stand and marvel at the scenery I passed, like here at the oddly named 'Palm Loch' where Ben Griam Mor peacefully reflected off the water:

And to marvel at the stunning light that fleetingly burned through a gap in the cloud just as the sun was setting over Loch Rosail.  A fitting sight to end the day, as that's Ben Klibreck brooding in the distance :)

Last but not least the requisite deer were grazing alongside Loch Badanloch:

They're always there.  But this is the first time I've seen one with a saltire on its nose :0)

What a day!

Day Eleven - The Final Day

Day Ten

Day Nine

Day Eight

Day Seven

Day Six

Day Five

Day Four

Day Three

Day Two