Walkhighlands

So, the previous day had ended with a superb hike, but ultimate failure on Sgurr nan Gillean. Having retired for a bar meal and pint, Steve was more optimistic things would be better for the In Pinn, the next day. "What forecast app are you using?!" I thought

Next morning brought the high winds I was seeing on the Met Office. Stiff waves blowing across Loch Harport. Sky was to clear a bit, but with gusts of 30mph plus, it was too risky to contemplate. I had expressed an enthusiasm for doing Marsco some day, so we decided on that as a safer option, Steve still having plans to do Sgurr Alasdair the following day.

While we waited till the winds abated, I took a drive over to Loch Talisker for a nosey and there to my surprise were some warships playing off the coast, so i was able to indulge in a bit of ship spotting, another pastime of mine I didn't have time to check out the shore as I turned around to pick up Steve in Carbost. The weather had calmed a little as we set off from Sligachan at the back of 10am, following the route as per WH's. Very boggy up the side of the Allt na Measarroch, between Marsco and the other Red Hills, as stated. Bonnie Prince Charlie must have had a fine pair of wellies when he crossed the pass at night, between Marsco and Beinn Dearg Mheadhonach, as he walked from Portree to Elgol to escape troops pursuing him. He would have had no bother outpacing me, as I must admit, I was feeling tired after our day on SnanG the day before.

Views gradually began to open up through to Glamaig, Garbh Bheinn and Bla Bheinn. The route up then steepens considerably and had me puffing like Ivor the Engine. Marsco, may not even be a Corbett, but it is no easy touch.

Once up on the ridge, the views of Loch Scavaig and the Cuillin ridge are even more spectacular, particularly Sgurr nan Gillean and to think we had to turn back, only 50 metres from the top, yesterday!

Still a bit of a wander up to the summit, as the ridge narrows considerably, but nothing too tricky, although cold wind was still gusting strongly. Took a regretful look over to the In Pinn, but knew it was the right thing to stay clear today.

Few photo's and we turned around for home. As always, trip back seemed lengthy, especially the boggy bits, but we were treated to a spectacular fly past, as a Eurefighter did some acrobatics as it came over Sgurr nan Gillean and directly overhead. It took us 5 hrs for the trip but, was a great, wee hill as compensation for our higher aspirations.

Shared a coffee with Steve, before we went our separate ways. I traveled home with thoughts about not managing a Munro, either day, feeling Steve, would have done better with a fitter, more experienced climber for company, but still having had a superb time to myself, which is what it is about, isn't it

Alas, for Steve, the weather stayed mince and he traveled home next morning without even getting the gear on for Sgurr Alasdair.

Till the next time!

Anything with a view like that in such a setting is definitely not second best - it’s the corny cliche that size doesn’t matter.
I wonder how many of us have spent years and years going back to Skye and Marsco has just been the ever-present backdrop - always the Skye bridesmaid - sorry, another cliche crept out there.
OD

Thanks, OD. Yeh, stunning views and I have always had to be a believer in at least one of your cliche's Will I get back to try another of the Cuillin - only time will tell. Never mind, all's well, that ends well

Not a second best at all, it is a lovely hill. It does get blowy round about there, but you don't seem to have had it too bad. Like you, we wouldn't contemplate the Inn Pin in those conditions. We got a tremendous wind funneled through that pass, and I was all for going back, but husband started CRAWLING, so I followed suit for 50 metres or so, and then it got so we could stand up. As we were coming down, we spotted some guys in exactly the same spot with anoraks flapping and they decided to turn back. I was catching them up as I skipped down, and wondered if I would/should say anything as I passed. "It wasn't so bad once you got past that bit!" sounded a bit like crowing. However, being a show-off, I took my woolly hat off as I nearly reached them, so they could see my granny hair, and promptly tripped over my bootlaces and from falling on my rucksack straps acquired the rotary cuff tear in my shoulder from which I still suffer, as they don't attempt mending in the over 70s (not thro' ageism, but they find it just pulls out again). Most graphic instance of Pride coming before a Fall.