As we drove to Glen Coe from the bunkhouse at Kinlochleven, we noticed the clag was down on Beinn a' Bheithir and Bidean itself. A bit disappointing, but we were optimistic that it would lift off. In any case, conditions were a whole lot better than they were on our attempt the previous year. It wasn't windy, and it wasn't raining - blessings to be counted!
So it was off again along the wide track up the glen, admiring the formidable dome of Gearr Aonach.
Then down to the river by means of the metal staircase and across the footbridge, up the rocky path, through a wooden gate, looking out for the right-hand path heading up above the gorge. Turn right again at a cairn, along a grassy path, wending its way up soggier ground to the stony steepening marking the start of the zig-zags.
The path led a long, long way to the left (as you face into the hillside), until coming to the foot of a heathery terrace going up right to a cave. We recognized this as the route to take. There were some wet patches around, but the rock was a lot drier than it had been last time.
From the cave an easy path went a long way to the right, until turning back up left to the foot of a rocky section - the 'crux'.
It's an easier scramble than it looks, with lots of big holds to choose from.
A long way left again above the 'crux', a bit more rock then a final right turn. Some distance along this path we spotted the correct way up to the top, which we'd missed last time. This made for easy going up a nice, definite path, which soon brought us to the top of the ridge.
We had hoped that, by now, the clag might have lifted. But, if anything, it was even lower. I'm not sure how Karl was feeling - he must have been disappointed - but I was beginning to resign myself to the probability of a viewless time of it on the tops, which saddened me for Karl's sake.
The west ridge of Stob Coire nan Lochan provided the next bit of excitement as it became rockier. We reached our high point from the last time, then continued on the path, which traversed under the rocks to a nick on the left. Above here the route regained the crest, which broke into a few small pinnacles. This was an enjoyable scramble, giving out to easier ground, then the summit of SCNL.
The clag showed no sign of clearing, unfortunately, so we just continued down the rocky path to the col. I think by now we were just enjoying the exercise, without any expectation of an improvement in visibility - though we did get a brief glimpse of the corrie down on the left as we reached the col, which was nice.
The ensuing rocky ridge up to Bidean, with a few patches of slushy snow, was a joy to follow, despite not being able to see very far. As the gradient eased off towards the top the rocks gave way to snow, which was surprisingly extensive. Higher up we were back on blocky rocks again, which led up to the summit.
Although there was no view, the mist seemed a bit brighter than it had been lower down, and this put us in an optimistic mood. We found a couple of perches on the boulders a bit below the summit, sheltered from the breeze (gentle as that was), got out the flasks and lunch packs and settled down for a siesta. What was remarkable was how pleasant the conditions were up here, considering it was still February. I usually feel the need to put an extra layer on when I sit down near a summit for any length of time, but on this occasion I felt no need to add to the two layers I already had on. The rocks and ourselves were beginning to cast shadows - the sun was very close to breaking through. Then suddenly the mist cleared to the south, revealing the curving ridge of Beinn Maol Chaluim, briefly, only to close in again.
We stayed put, hoping that eventually it would clear. Looking up to the summit, the banks of snow along the ridge beyond shone brightly though the thinning veils of mist. "I could sit here all day", Karl said, and I felt exactly the same way. "These are just the sort of conditions for Brocken spectres", I said. Just a few minutes later one appeared, for me, and for Karl, but only vaguely. I took a photo but the spectre didn't show up very well. Then at last the vapours parted, dispersed and lifted away, first on the southern side and then to the north as well. At this point we heard the voices of people coming up the path. It was time to move on. We went back up to the summit to take in the views that now appeared in all directions, and to take some photos. The others joined us at the cairn and told us they'd seen a...they couldn't remember the term, so Karl helped out - "Brocken spectre?" "That's the one", they said.
We continued on our way towards the second Munro of the day, Stob Coire Screamhach. I was so pleased for Karl that this was turning out to be a very memorable day.
When we reached the Bealach Dearg we peered down the descent route into the Lost Valley, which was banked out with snow and looked very steep - unquestionably an ice axe and crampons job. Karl wasn't too keen on the look of it, but was slightly reassured by a couple of guys coming up it. We carried on up to SCS in the warm sunshine and enjoyed the wonderful views from the top.
Back at the bealach we put on our crampons and got our ice axes out, along with a shortened trekking pole each. The worst bit was stepping over what remained of the cornice down to the snow ledge underneath. But the bucket steps helped and, facing into the slope, the axes provided security when pushed down full-length into the sugary snow. It was laborious work but we steadily made our way down.
At last we reached the scree at the bottom and it was straightforward walking from there into the Lost Valley, following a good path.
Karl had been wanting to walk through the Lost Valley for years. He liked the name, suggesting a land that time forgot, roamed by dinosaurs or woolly mammoths.
Disappointingly, there were no dinosaurs or woolly mammoths. Or anything else much, apart from stones and grass and some impressive boulders.
But the real joy of the Lost Valley is the wooded gorge through which the Allt Coire Gabhail roars. This walk just kept on giving. What a day it had been.

As we climbed back up the metal steps towards the open glen, thoughts turned to possibilities for the next day - our last of the trip. It was a balmy evening with the feel of Spring in it. Winter climbing was a write-off, but if tomorrow stayed as warm and dry as this...?
