I had driven past Ben Wyvis more times than I could count, always en route to somewhere else, always in a hurry to reach the north-west coast. Today we finally stopped.
Crossing the Slochd Summit, we met a dense bank of cloud blanketing the Moray Firth. Inverness had slipped to a dreary 9°C. Climbing Ben Wyvis looked doubtful.
We carried on regardless. Soon we found that a temperature inversion had rolled in off the North Sea like a quiet miracle.
Ben Wyvis—really the name of the whole range—is a hulking, marooned mass, stranded east of the other northern hills. The highest point, Glas Leathad Mor, is a long, bare ridge flanked by steep corries on the east and broad, featureless slopes rising from forest on the west. Its isolation gives it fine views. The approach up An Cabar, the prow of the ridge, is a long slog up a well-constructed staircase of rock steps.
The final ridge to Glas Leathad Mor is mossy, level, and pleasant underfoot. It makes for good walking.
Then came the descent. My 40-year-old SMC guide suggested heading along the ridge to Tom a’ Choinnich, then down “its grassy WSW ridge to the Allt a’ Gharbh Bhaid and follow this stream downhill to the point where it flows into the Garbat Forest.” Grassy, it was not. What we got was a punishing mess of heather, bilberry, and tussocky deer grass. It actually took longer to come down than go up.
The name Ben Wyvis may come from the Gaelic fuathas—meaning awesome. The name fits. It was. A hard-won day, but worth it.
The photo is taken from the top of An Cabar, looking across to Little Wyvis, with the inversion curling in behind.