"It looks like the set of a 1970s horror film," said my companion. "Screw this, I'm going to the pub."
We were at the Kingshouse for a reunion and it seemed that only I wanted a walk. Just as well I like my own company.
On Rannoch Moor:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAR9jvhGsfSzLZu8v7i1-jx0lNLnTOJUlpERWd5CaClu5L6MtuZvw2Tx3SGxdMY2Qie0QMX_Vg4P_-ucClHBXKb4j4LsUt2yPsVXqNZJrD_GLOGtZHipmvlIWSxHSHx0O6hszlMNP4jPN/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25282%2529.jpg)
The walk I had planned would take me a long way along estate tracks towards the heart of the moor, up to the superlative viewpoint of Stob na Cruaiche, down towards Tigh na Cruaiche, and back across a track marked on the map. The first stage was a quick march along the Black Corries Lodge's well-made estate road, the Etive brawling alongside. I know from experience that this is a fine spot for sunbathing or swimming on rare days of midge-free warmth. The lochans in the wedge of moor between the A82 and the lodge are full of sporting brown trout.
The infant Etive:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOKyw07O24VtprDaslEZjEX8R09E_-yQf6ElZO2vaotG4UDZMr9hOwDtYpVzwEBLC-bPBoZ7c97Ovx1EakXxEh2lqqyprwddaY-rPG4PhdBXdd1hhe4r1zfLkMwJoI3UEssvFC9xUyyX7Q/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25281%2529.jpg)
Rannoch Moor: bleak as fuck
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5UlXJgzEYe0TRtbuZKoopFc2JZBmHAJTZ9kLeVoudyGTu8_AW43fkp50RGszEDrf161IAKZc6oXtnxPZRTfSZ-Zw4xqvAUKgP5dbYSJL2fbjexbmqSKwYpPT8zt7gMt0mIOvAba28IiN/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25283%2529.jpg)
Peat-preserved pine roots:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9bigEMtBtl3Wn8MZzMnwcQgnMpZEpUwDaiMIfSkhvO0qBrwiMpvCb1kngqHAvYZIQ8LIEgRSIBRCU6SaG5Wgjra8XcMb7Lbd-_Eq3slAaLe-T87vCVMXQW8P_SgYQ8dB6_kDBEVcyR6ee/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25284%2529.jpg)
So far, so enjoyable. But after leaving the track I was on my own. My target was Stob na Cruaiche, the top of the Black Corries, but the angle of the moor makes for hard going - neither steep enough to gain altitude quickly, nor flat enough for rapid progress. Soon I was in the cloud, views gone, legs aching with the effort of lifting them over tussocky peat hags as I slowly soaked in the increasing wind and rain. "This is shite," I said to myself.
Last view:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5t0MNsOR7sIqa6FdpUqR-wk5xFkn5xZtsftGYCCKfWhSokkElQrrSrtxNFzQZ0V_36kxBNTqTd7NU4ng0W_K-51F6BwoAw8BrVG_09eX33_NAFh4jFIjLPWn9Vo_e7YrzX_wjo0LnZqdw/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25286%2529.jpg)
The re-entrant:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOABK1JQVscmwauFsUZll6hDq_Rp0-VrrKqEIGd5pcWWkP5jxiQ_hghDeFchBSXD0kg86zWkGtb1kALeDQZjVUav3tlUDoBzaEUtoRwl07JIDzVg0cs-Z57dacJRKCScnxzPG1sjgqeON_/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25288%2529.jpg)
But then something magical happened. On descent I found myself in a small fold in the hill, a secret flat area halfway down a steep hillside. A river I could not cross forced me to pause and take stock. I was still soaking and cold, but a single moment of beauty was taking my breath away. We are sensitive to our environment after sustained periods of grind and misery and a different perspective had suddenly opened up. The river running through tunnels of snow, twisting where it will. A place so utterly without human value that the land does nothing except be itself. Just be itself. I stood and absorbed this place, as indifferent to me as only a truly wild place can be. Standing here in the mist and rain, this seemed profound.
The Rannoch Amazon:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtVvD5tE7KgbPN_MQhNMPuXylC6rG49yB_8A5fHlYHNr5x1-blwyOlae_a1lwuIa-DXfzx0KWBPCmceSVNFfq2FVisXYOh8kGS6Rz4ruFF7obltD6_YfYFz0dWtlRaL3oaoGbsrotGGck/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%25287%2529.jpg)
I followed the smoothly flowing river, impassable, as deep as it is broad, a collection of elements, of earth, water, wind, gravity and light. The land steepened, and the river roared downhill as I finally broke out of the cloud.
Loch Laidon at the heart of the moor:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ_IUN5cneLjs8QX1G0WAoITCJfmyr0ZwupNsbxW9UsVG1N104oWGQ6pCok7U9m3V_pi2DPwtkX3Pn13fGScwAVoNpRoqfPlYRf7Y0GRl5pBaXk9TUj_RLyIU5yJINae1SDgYzdCTS5saw/s400/Stob+naCruaiche+%252810%2529.jpg)
I had a rude shock on arriving at Tigh na Cruaiche. There was still a long way back, I'd forgotten that the path marked on the map didn't exist, and it would soon be dark. I was glad I hadn't done the full 'Ring of Rannoch' all the way to Rannoch Station. It was a hard forced march back to the lights of the Kingshouse, where my friends had been wondering where I had gone.