SHORT WINDOW FOR MEMORABLE ENCOUNTER ON GARBH BHEINN

WISPS of cloud hung statically in the lower reaches of the glen, the few white buildings along the shores of the still glassy waters of Loch Leven shining beneath the veil.

Across the loch, the Mamores were basking in a slow-moving autumnal glow from the early sun taking full advantage of bright blue and cloudless skies while on the opposite side the ground still lay in shadow, the familiar pyramid of the Pap of Glencoe a prominent silhouette.

Despite this picture of calm, the hillsides were reverberating with the roaring of streams and stags, each laying their claim to superiority on the decibel count, a raucous dawn chorus.

This was one of those mornings where all the elements that make our mountain landscape so special aligned perfectly. It wasn't going to last: this was a short-lived hiatus after days of thundery rain and strong winds so the key was to make the most of it.

The previous day we had stayed lower with a wander up Nevis Gorge to Steall Falls. The rocky path was treacherously wet and there was water running everywhere. Not that we were complaining – if you are going to see a waterfall then these are the ideal conditions. The falls were in full flow and the continuous thunder as the river dropped between the enormous boulders in the gorge was a joy for the senses.

Garbh Bheinn is a fine mountain but playing piggy in the middle with the giants of Glen Coe and the Mamores it tends to see fewer visitors. As the name suggests, it's a rough, rocky hill and the ascent is fairly relentless. And like so many Corbetts, it has the advantage of giving superb views of the more illustrious neighbours from a different perspective.

Be warned though: the initial part of the walk is one of the boggiest I have encountered. The path which starts straight from the road just east of Caolasnacon swiftly deteriorates from boulder to quagmire and you are lucky if your boots manage to stay above the waterline for any length of time.

Once above the first rise things do improve and the path becomes more solid, weaving its way between a few rocky bumps with some minor scrambling. And all the time the views are opening out. It's one of those ascents where you have to pause every few minutes to take in the changes that are happening all around you.

The Mamores seem to multiply with every upward step, the jagged skyline of the Aonach Eagach become more sculpted, more alluring. Behind you, the long view goes all the way down Loch Leven and over to Ardgour, more distant, dramatic peaks to set the pulse racing.

Considering the unrelenting angle of the climb, the summit is somewhat of an anomaly, a small flat plateau with three cairns but it also reveals the eastern vista over to Loch Eilde Mor and Blackwater Reservoir and the expanse of Rannoch Moor in all its glory.

The spectacular light which had graced the early part of the morning had now been squashed, and there was a noticeable chill accompanying the incoming grey. On a warmer day this would be a perfect spot to sit for a while but being caught in a rain shower now would have dampened the experience. Better to quit while ahead.

A short sharp ascent means a short, sharp descent but the bog in the lower reaches slowed things down, each step being more of a slide and the chance of a comedy fall. If you escape without a wet bottom you are doing well.

By the time I turned to wave a goodbye thank-you to Garbh Bheinn, the summit had disappeared. Never mind, it was the perfect hill at the perfect time, a brief encounter, but a memorable one.