Suilven

The alarm didn’t go off but fortunately I woke anyway, only fifteen minutes later than intended. Hanne Lene lent me her rain trousers (although recently reproofed, mine were drenched through on the last rainy walk) and kindly got up early to drive me to the starting point in Glencanisp. By eight, i was on the way, a rutted forest track cum footpath leading towards Canisp. The mountain forecast was pretty good, a more or less dry day and little cloud till mid afternoon, rain around early evening.
Suilven is a beautiful looking mountain, rather camel shaped to my mind, though others say dolphin. The name comes partly from Old Norse , sula bheinn meaning pillar mountain. Seen from the west, you see just a single hump which might be construed as a pillar I suppose.
Looking through the books in the cabin, I find it is neither a Munro nor a Corbett, but merely “a Graham” at 731metres. However I sniff at these attempts to tame mountains (and nature, indeed) by categorisation, anthropomorphising and reducing the wild to an extension and projection of the human sphere. It is a breathtaking lump of sandstone, sitting on a base of gneiss and carved into shape, like all the mountains in this region, by glaciers during the last ice age.
It is also a fair six mile hike to get to the foot of it, on a path that rises and falls up the glen, a river and small lochans to my right as I walk. The closer I get, the path seems to head for Canisp (a pyramid shaped mountain a few miles away). But then crossing a bridge and on a bit, a handsomely laid footpath of gravel and stepping stones branches off to the right.
Soon after, I hear voices, climbers on the way down with heavy pack. They camped on the mountain overnight, and I’m a little envious as they describe watching the sun rise through red and rose coloured cloud.
The climb is pretty tough for my aging limbs and by the time I reach the ridge, my legs are like jelly. After a little break, I have a go at climbing to the summit which is said to be not too difficult. But halfway there I come to a point where I either have to ease round a shelf over a pretty steep drop, or haul my whole body up a large rock. I test and assess each of them, but feel anxious and uncertain I can manage either safely. So I content myself with the wonderful views of the lochs, rivers and coastline to the west and the views of Canisp to the east, and find a place to settle out of the wind for a sandwich before making the descent and homeward hike.