I’ve probably been up Quinag more than any other mountain nearby; I love it. Amazing views; three peaks; interesting geology; eagles; ptarmigans; mountain hares. Yes, it has a lot going for it.

There was another thing that I couldn’t fail to notice: the little burn that starts its life right in the corrie near to the footpath makes its way to the sea just a few miles away at Unapool. Short and sweet. The obvious thing to do, for an outdoor man like myself, was to walk the length, source to sea. A whole geography lesson in just one day!

So on “just one day”, I set off with my camera and tripod, because I’m a photographer too, and thought I’d have a grand day out. It was autumn, and the colours were just super. I parked my van where the burn crosses the road and set off to walk the lower section first. Within about fifty yards, I was rewarded with some really lovely waterfalls and got busy with the camera. Then there was some more, and some more….. After about an hour, I’d got almost nowhere. But this was great, so it didn’t matter. Underfoot, the going was rough and tricky, so that means “slow”. It didn’t look too difficult, but there are no paths, and lots of tussocks, rocks, wet patches and other obstacles. I left my lunch in the van. Big mistake; I was famished by the time I got back, and realised straight away that this was far more than I could do in “just one day”. At my late lunch, I realised I could do little more than a quarter in this particular day. So day one finished at the road bridges; the old and the new, side by side. I went home far from disappointed that I had “failed”; in fact totally enthused that I’d picked such an interesting, amazingly lovely subject for my little project.

“Day two” I spent on the top section; from where the burn crosses the footpath upstream to the place I arbitrarily decided to “knock it on the head”. Carol was with me, so I thought this would be part project, part walk, and I was unsure that the central section would be dual purpose. Yet again, I found some incredible features that I never knew about. For a relatively short watercourse, this was really showing off! One waterfall, in particular, took my fancy, and I’ve turned one of the photos into a “monochrome fine-art print” that I’m very pleased with. Fortunately, I wasn’t totally tunnel-visioned on the burn; I glanced up at the top of Spidean Coinich looming above me and saw an eagle not far from the summit. With no binoculars, I could only guess that it might be a Goldie. It was there for a while too; makes you wonder how often there’s one right up there watching what you’re doing. We stopped for lunch near to the top of Lochan Bealach Cornaidh, looking at the tiger stripe patterns on the submerged sand. The burn is getting much smaller now, and I make it almost up the the bealach before it star-burst into quite a few tiny trickles, and I decide that this is the “source” for the purposes of my mission. Packing away my camera, I turn around to see a mountain hare scampering away. It was easy to spot, being in ermine without any snow to hide on!

My final visit to complete the journey didn’t happen for a few weeks, due to weather and commitments. I wasn’t really sure what I’d find, as the middle section seems to go across a flat, bland plateau when viewed from some parts of the adjacent road. However, there were some real gems here too, and probably the place I noticed the most changes in the stream-bed itself. I got lucky with the weather; some lovely blue sky to set off the bulk of a snow-capped Sail Gharbh in the background. I tried to find a few shots which also featured Glas Bheinn, or something else, so my story didn’t become one about Quinag instead of the burn. I sat on an outcrop overlooking my footsteps for lunch, and realised that it really did look a bit “uniform” from up there; far from the reality of what I saw on my journey. Moving on up, I’d seen on the map that the burn split into tributaries not far ahead, and I intended to take the left fork to join up with my previous visit. This was easier said than done, as the “left fork” was completely dry. I was confused; either I was in the wrong place, or had miscalculated where the water came from. I do have a GPS loaded with 1:10000 maps, but left it at home as I didn’t envisage needing it. After a bit of wandering back and forth, I concluded I was in the right place after all, and had a mystery to solve. I really am no geologist, but had thought that “sink holes” were associated with limestone, and didn’t expect them here. So either this was actually limestone, or other rocks can have similar features. It further surprised me that I got very close to the walkers’ footpath before the water returned in any quantity. I’ve been across these stepping stones many times, and could never have predicted that such a flow would vanish just out of sight. Anyway, here I was, at the end of “day three”; joining the dots and completing my journey. I felt quite proud of myself to have done it too. I knew I’d got some decent photos, but the satisfaction of doing it was good. Very good. And what I’ll remember the most, is not individual features, views and waterfalls, but the sheer number of them. They just kept coming. Brilliant.

Looking at the map, I guess that the total distance from sea to source was only about five miles. “Just one day”?

If you’re tempted to look for any of these views yourself, on top of the stuff that should go-without-saying about litter, damage and suchlike, please bear in mind how rough this terrain can be.

I’m not one for counting, but I think I took about four hundred photos over the course of my three days. I already had a couple of shots which were worthy of using in the collection too. Initially, I distilled them down to about seventy. That was quite easy, but the next reduction became more difficult. And I haven’t written off going back for some more; everything to date has been during the autumn or winter. Different season; different day; different light.

Here’s a few of them:

Last night I spent a while looking at the map trying to work out how to get some light onto the north faces of Sail Gharbh and Sail Ghorm, and fairly soon realised that it was impossible at this time of year.

I discover that sunrise at Inverness is due to be at 130 degrees from north and sunset at 230 degrees. I need less than 90 and more than 270, which is only going to happen between the spring and autumn equinoxes.

So my walk is going to be in the shade, and getting good photos will be more of a challenge.

But it’s due to be a crisp, clear day and I’m looking forward to it.

I need an early start to stand a chance of completing the final section in one day, and get there before the sun has risen.

The ground is rough right from the start; I often find deer paths to follow, but they seem to be scarce right now.

Reaching the first plateau, I meet a sturdy looking holly tree as the sun starts to rise behind Glas Bheinn; there’s red berries on the ground where I get the camera out for my first shot of the day.

I push on up the hill, and before I get to my target altitude, the sun blasts out, and its light rakes across the landscape.

I start to wonder how long it’ll be before I fall over today, and it turns out to be just another 30 seconds; just like the Stay Puft man in Ghostbusters, I’ve obviously brought it on myself!

305 metres; 1000 feet, and I’m in a gully running up to Sail Ghorm. Click. It looks cold up there.

The ground is slightly crispy, but you wouldn’t describe it as “frozen solid”. No idea what the air temperature is; I’m as warm as toast walking up hill!

Traversing across below the mouth of the corrie, the waterfall is two things: photogenic and also an obstacle requiring a little diversion.

Underneath the absolutely tremendous buttresses of Sail Gharbh, I head east to pick up my previous finishing point.

I can see where it is, its just where there’s a splash of sunshine on the ground at the point the hillside bends to the south. It’s also marked by a couple of deer; maybe even the same ones I saw here previously.

Today’s forecast was very good indeed, so I’m a bit surprised to see the weather over Glas Bheinn. It’s snowing, and it’s coming my way!

I grab a picture, put my camera away, and get out my leggings and thick gloves.

Just in case it goes horribly wrong, I also work out my “escape route” down the hill to the burn which runs back to the car park. I’m not staying up here in a blizzard!

As it is, total precipitation is less than a thimble-full and I carry on.

I’ve walked the “1000 foot” contour below the corrie on the way in, so I treat myself to a diversion through it, to return to my trail in a while. Eleven stags look at me all dopey, like they were not expecting company, and demonstrate how easy it really is to walk at 45 degrees across loose rocks.

In the middle of the corrie, I find a vantage point and take eight photos to stitch together in a panorama.

Back on my contour, I now have Sail Ghorm for company.

I’m getting hungry, so I sit down for what I believe is a late lunch and find that its only 1230. Good news! That means I probably can complete my route in the remaining light, and make the trek back to the van too.

Arriving at the shoulder of Sail Ghorm, there’s some deer silhouetted up on the ridge. I’ve only got a wide angle lens with me, so I’ll have to crop this one.

I can smell victory, if that’s what it is, the sun is shining on the ridge too, so I’ve only got to get over it. I’m scampering up there like a mad spaniel; partly excited, partly not to miss the sunshine!

Over at some erratics, I get a photo, and then realise I’m about a hundred feet too high. Whoops. There it is; down there….

When I’m home, I find that it isn’t the rock I started at last July at all. Never mind, it’s close enough!

Well, thank you Quinag; you’ve been amazing.

It’s looking like another good day for weather; we’ve already had a couple, and this is lining up for a Big Blue Sky.

Only five days ago I was up here waiting for the low cloud to clear, and now there isn’t a cloud in sight….. all day!

Just a short walk to my start today; I’m thinking of an identical shot to the final one of the last leg, but the sun is right behind me and my own shadow is spoiling it.

My GPS decides to play up, and tells me that my altitude is 227 metres, not 305. I know I’m in the right place! Maybe the air pressure is significantly different and I should’ve re-calibrated it on the beach earlier. Anyway, I can follow the map contour instead. It does show that electronics aren’t everything; but I have a map and compass (and know how to use them!) so it’s just inconvenient.

Down towards the road, I hear a dog bark; some excited mut taking its owners out for the day.

As soon as I leave the ridge, Spidean Coinich comes into view; it’ll be with me all day today. Also, the light on it is good right now; whereas direct sunshine on Sail Gharbh is leaving it looking a bit flat at the moment.

I’m walking through quartzite boulders and heading down towards peat bog right now; later it’s going to change totally to Torridonian Sandstone. I’m also heading towards a crossing point with my previous “Unapool Burn: Sea to Source” walk, intrigued to find the intersection.

In the middle distance, I can see a lovely loch. I can tell it’s pretty much on a level with me, so I’m looking forward to visiting it. Surely that must be really close to the stalker’s path? I’ve never realised that I’ve already been so close. And it is indeed just a couple of minutes over a brow, and it’s just great, with the peaks rising up behind it. I’ll be coming here again, for sure!

And behind me, Glas Bheinn.

Then an unexpected thing happens; my phone goes “ping”. I didn’t think there was any reception here. And it’s my friends Richard and Suse, who can apparently see me in the distance. So the excited dog earlier was Molly the labrador. I climb onto a mound to get a better view, and can’t see anyone at all. A trip to the opticians perhaps? I wave at them, as suggested on their text message.

A monochrome of Sail Gharbh:

Negotiating rough grass and boulders is hard work, and then I spot a little gem: a single rowan tree erupting from the rocks. Oh yes, this is going to make a picture. I steam across there, maybe four hundred yards, quite quickly in case the nearby patch of shade engulfs it too soon. I’m off track a bit, but I don’t mind. Checking the GPS, it says 329 metres, and I realise the altitude is oddly now correct again.

Stopping for a late lunch near to the end of Sail Gharbh, my phone starts working properly and I discover that my friends are almost directly above me on the ridge.

They report that the views are totally immense, and I get a twinge of envy. But, I’m having a great time myself, and can’t be in two places at once! They also reveal that they couldn’t actually see me at all; they knew I was nearby because of my parked van. So I’d been “had”; waving to imaginary friends, but I readily admit that I deserved it.

Closing in on the end, I cross several small burns and realise I’ve seen hardly any today.

I missed the top end of the Unapool Burn completely (Allt na Bradhan), so conclude that I must’ve coincidentally crossed it where in runs underground.

A couple of red grouse fly off into the distance.

My turning point today is the place I run out of sunshine and see the shadows coming towards me, marked by two small hinds standing staring at me.

Now I’ve got quite a long walk back to the car park. I’m not sure its wise, but I opt for the direct route. I’ve got Glas Bheinn as a beacon. Well, it was pretty dry actually, and I find several sections of exposed sandstone slabs which make it really easy. One of them even has the marks of some ancient sea bed; they are “sandstone” after all!

Nearing the end of my journey today, I again walk past the loch I mentioned earlier, and it’s even better! Almost mirror calm now, I shoot the reflections of Quinag. It is pretty amazing, but I can’t get it all in the shot with this lens, so I take a series of photos, left to right, to “stitch” together later.

Once again I resolve to return to this spot; what a way to end the day!