Never before have I had a WHOLE WEEK in Scotland of bright blue skies, windless calm and crystal clear views. (and probably won't ever have one again in my lifetime!). So we made the most of it!
As usual, my lack of organisational prowess means that this first report is actually of Day 2. Oh well who cares. We drove towards Loch Quoich and soon had an appetite-whetting view westwards along Loch Garry towards Gairich and the hills behind it.

Close up of the enticing hills...

As a boy I noticed Sgurr a'Mhaoraich in an old Atlas and thought "I bet that mountain has a good view". Many years later, I bought the SMC's Munros book which says "The road westwards along Loch Quoich runs below three fine mountains which are among the easiest ascents in the Western Highlands."
So the oddly-named Shellfish Mountain was very much in my mind as the hill we should do on a fine-weather day of our week at Invergarry. But for the moment, I was just enjoying the views across the loch to Gairich.

Nearing our parking spot, we encountered some pedestrians crossing...

The parking spot overlooked blue waters sparkling in the sunshine.

Off we go.

The path to Sgurr a'Mhaoraich is a true delight - well-graded and effortless to walk up. We could concentrate on admiring the views (and mentally blotting out the pylons).

The scenery all around was just about as good as scenery could be -

But paradoxically, with almost every step, it kept getting better - more hills popping into view.


And more...

and Loch Quoich looking bigger and bluer all the time.

We reached a bank of snow. After our floundering about in a deep snowdrift the previous day, we
approached this with caution - but it was no problem at all.

We were soon at the high point on the curve of the ridge. The map gives this the very grand name of Sgurr Coire nan Eiricheallach but apparently it has no status as a Top, a Corbett or anything. However it is a fantastic viewpoint. I took the opportunity to model my workplace's charity t-shirt.

Beyond this point, the ridge dips, then rises grandly towards the summit of Sgurr a'Mhaoraich.

At this point we were passed by a more speedy and nimble couple. We watched ahead, because we could see that, much like the previous day on Sgurr nan Conbhairean, our good path suddenly disappeared into a large bank of snow before the final rise to the summit. How would the two walkers deal with it? We saw one of them try to make his way across - then turn back amid waist-deep snow. He then scrambled up the rocks above the snowdrifts and on towards the summit. Aha, so that was the way to do it!
As we approached the snow-bank, the ridge became increasingly interesting, with little pinnacles and drops to peer down.

At this point two of our party decided to wait on the top of a little peak while the other two (including me) went on to the summit. Looking back to their eyrie...

After clambering along the crest of the ridge (assisted at times by remains of old fenceposts bolted into the rocks) we reached a short steep slope of firm snow, with a great view back along our ridge.

And there ahead of us was the summit!

As I guessed from that old Atlas long ago, the Shellfish Mountain has an amazing view. Undoubtedly
one of my favourite mountain-tops: I will always remember it.

Looking back to Loch Quoich

The cairn...

North west towards Kintail

Ben Nevis and friends

Lenticular clouds to the south

And above Sgurr na Ciche

Beinn Sgritheall and Skye

Ladhar Bheinn and Loch Hourn

As Nelly Furtado reminds up, all good things have to come to an end... and our two friends were waiting for us below. Ice-axes in hand we descended, and spotted that our friends had moved on down to a point on the stalker's path high above Loch Quoich. Views ahead were still glorious.

The last little bit of scrambling lay ahead -

Descending a bank of snow, very slushy now!

Everything was still looking beautiful: a late afternoon golden glow.

Last bits of the descent: feeling mellow after a brilliant day on the hill. A day I'll never forget.

Loch Quoich still and mirror-like below us.

Even the pylons brought a certain je ne sais quoi to the scene.

On the drive back we saw some more of the Deer that this road is famous for.

The Monarch of the Glen is alive and well at Loch Quoich. Until someone shoots him.
