Tracing the path of renowned mountaineers offers stunning Scottish Highlands vistas
The excitement begins right from the start. A well-defined path leads through heather just ankle-high, flanked by the imposing Red and Black Cuillin on either side, both displaying their deeply weathered features and sturdy gabbro foundations. Even when partially obscured by mist on this overcast morning, they remain, in my opinion, the most captivating mountain ranges in all of Britain.
However, just beyond them, almost emerging into the light between the two, lies Sgùrr na Strì, a comparatively modest 494-meter outcrop of compacted rock that seems poised to outshine its neighbors. Many claim that the view from its summit is the most breathtaking in all of Scotland. The ever-shifting interplay of shadows across the landscape, from the hilltop’s vantage point, stretching across the Black Cuillin to Loch Coruisk, the Small Isles, and the Sea of the Hebrides, creates an impression of perpetual motion.
I commence the extensive trek to Sgùrr na Strì from the unoccupied trailhead at the Sligachan Old Bridge car park, situated at the heart of Skye, where this journey both begins and concludes. While there’s an equally popular alternative involving a 20-minute rib boat voyage (costing £18, with booking essential) from Elgol to Loch Coruisk, followed by a one-way, seven-mile walk, I’ve chosen the more extensive, yet free, round trip.
Although no longer functional, the iconic Sligachan Old Bridge, frequently photographed, is one of the factors that have propelled Skye into Instagram stardom in recent years. Today, its surroundings are graced by the joys of the season. The Sligachan River flows vigorously, the heather has transitioned from amethyst to a soft violet, and the midges have disappeared.
A resonant call from a stag drifts in my direction, and later, I observe one, skittish, far below the rugged horn of Sgùrr nan Gillean, a mountain that prompts most visitors to reach for their cameras.
Unusually, for an island as bustling as Skye, the area sees few people, allowing the landscape to maintain the wild character that initially nurtured two of Britain’s most celebrated mountaineers. In the late 19th century, Skye native John MacKenzie, a crofter by trade, became Britain’s first professional mountain guide. He, along with the frequent visitor Professor John Norman Collie, recognized the potential of these hills. Their friendship, forged in 1886, led them to achieve ten of the initial ascents of the largely unmapped Cuillins. Knowledge of this history adds deeper significance to the hike.
Appropriately, the commencement of the Sgùrr na Strì trail is commemorated by a sculpture dedicated to these trailblazers. These intrepid mountaineers rest side by side in the Bracadale Free Church graveyard in Struan on Skye’s western shoreline. United in their mountain adventures during their lifetime, they remain united even in death.
Perhaps more significant than these symbolic markers is the enduring legacy they bequeathed. What these trailblazers uncovered in Skye’s hills was a remarkable sense of purpose. The mountains ceased to be intimidating obstacles to passage and instead became places that could offer sheer and unadulterated delight. Their influence breathed life into the country’s most challenging peaks. Summits, which had previously been desolate and untouched, now saw crags and tors being traversed and climbed. This consecrated the near-sacred pursuit known as “Munro bagging” – the endeavor to ascend all of Scotland’s 914-meter (3,000-foot) peaks.
In total, there are 282 Munros, and as I progress further through the peatlands of Glen Sligachan, the path I follow reveals captivating vistas of many of the most breathtaking ones. To my left lies Blà Bheinn, and to the right, across a scree-covered corrie, stand Sgùrr Dubh Mòr, Sgùrr Alasdair, and the towering Inaccessible Pinnacle. The landscape features well-marked paths, but a grasp of map reading and the assistance of a topographic GPS app on your phone are equally vital when venturing onto these well-trodden higher ridges.
I continue along the ridge of the glen, navigating through the terrain managed by the John Muir Trust. As I progress, the path grows wetter, and I find myself dodging the bogs until I encounter a fork in the trail marked by a substantial cairn. Suddenly, I’m inclined to turn left, drawn toward the glistening shores of Loch Scavaig, where wild campers set up their tents along the shoreline. However, to my right, I begin to discern the winding ascent along the Druim Hain, which leads to my ultimate destination. Deep down, I recognize that this is the correct path, positioning me perfectly on the gently sloping ridge.
Forty minutes later, having passed a small lochan and ascended to the crest, Sgùrr na Strì and the jagged Black Cuillin come into sharp focus.
At this stage, much like numerous hikes in the Hebrides, the trail becomes interspersed with chaotic arrangements of rock outcrops, and the journey turns into a navigation challenge as I select my way through the haphazard boulders along a broad southwest-facing ridge toward the summit. Rushing, I opt for the most direct approach up the burn, but I instantly regret my decision given that I’m wearing trail running shoes. Nonetheless, having damp feet is a minor sacrifice as I’m drawn toward my final destination, and the sun bursts through the clouds.
I eventually arrive at the most breathtaking viewpoint in the Highlands, marked by a cairn that appears as though it could be swept into the sea at any moment. This is the spot where you should linger for as long as the weather permits. While the landscape stretches out before you in all its grandeur, this steep perspective is not merely a reward for enthusiasts of geography or paleogene geology. It’s a place to pay homage to the birthplace of British mountaineering.
As the wind begins to stir before sunset, I turn to commence the return journey down Glen Sligachan. Behind the Sligachan Hotel, Seumas’ Bar awaits, and for approximately two hours, the white speck of the inn remains fixed in my sight. With a well-defined blister now on my heel, I eventually reach the welcoming doors. Inside, the pub is where hikers come together to quench their thirst and share their experiences after long days in the hills, much as MacKenzie and Collie did, sharing their personal tales of devotion and reverence for Skye’s mountains.
