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groping in the fog, which rolled in deep waves upon the upper plateau of Creag Meaghaidh, for the cairn, so we left for home. Skirting the edges of the cliffs to the north, and passing the head of many a steep gully already heavily corniced, we descended to the Window and to the lochan. Thence by the track to Aberarder, and a rapid spin on cycle took us to our snug headquarters just as darkness closed in.

November 1.-The first day of the week and of the month, and a perfect morning. As I looked from my window across the calm loch, a Heron glided down to the shore. Folding her "sails," she waded into the shallow, and there stood motionless, her shadow adding another picture to those of the hills and trees and clouds already mirrored on the surface of the water. The songs of our three chief autumn singers-the Robin, the Wren, and Hedge accentor-showed that they were rejoicing in the calm and sun of this rare November day. Our ride this morning to Corrie Arder was one to dwell in the memory for years. Fresh pictures of beauty down the loch opened up as we passed point after point, and the colouring of these pictures! the grass, the bracken, the trees, every shade of yellow and brown to dark red and flaming crimson. was painted on the withered foliage. As we rode through the birches, the long nearly level rays of the yet low sun lit up their trunks and foliage till the one seemed silver and the other gold, and both glowed with an almost metallic radiance. No season save late autumn can show a colouring half so rich and splendid.

Following the same route as yesterday, we reached the lochan a little before twelve. We had made up our minds to attack this time the central Post, and accordingly halted at twelve to rope up by the side of the mass of hard snow lying at the bottom of the face below the gully. Climbing began almost at once on clean steep rock with splendid holds.

The Posts are evidently formed by the more rapid decay of trap dykes which cleave the mica schist rocks, and low down this material weathers out into the usual convenient step-and-stairs ledges from which the rock gets

its name. Almost horizontal low down, these ledges higher up do not present such ideal climbing conditions. The ledges still exist, but they dip more and more into the gully or to the north till the angle becomes too steep to stand on without holding. For several hundred feet, however, the climbing was easy, though in places decidedly steep.

The gully at first hardly exists as such. It is merely a shallow scoop hollowed out in the face, down which rushes the water collected in the chasm above. We stuck more or less closely to this line till we arrived about half-way up at the place where the gully goes more deeply into the mountain. Here is a triple pitch above a large mass of old hard snow. High above this opens out a great pot or chasm, with overhanging walls apparently on all sides, from which fell numberless streams of water. The whole air of the place was filled with the drifting smoke of the shattered spray. It was certainly a wonderful piece of rock scenery, but it was a fine day, all of us were still quite dry. In short, we refused to face the inevitable soaking the attempt to force a way up into the "Pot" would have involved. We therefore sought and found a way out on to the buttress wall on our left. The next part was difficult and needed care. It involved the crossing to the left of a steep, rotten, dirt slope, and round a projecting corner. Here a slanting, narrow, green ledge led to a corner of easy though steep grass. The route from here went up to right by easy grass and rock to a broad grassy ledge. Then came a remarkably steep and rotten wall, the whole 70 or 80 feet of which appeared to be on the point of falling in ruins into the corrie. Above this the angle eased off, the buttress becoming more of a ridge. We finally climbed a steep little rock tower, and found ourselves at the summit two hours and a half from the foot. The wind here had, like ourselves, "got up." It was bitterly cold, so we built the usual stone man and made off.

This afternoon we returned, by way of a change, by the ridge above Loch Laggan, a splendid scenic walk. We also saw some good examples of Brocken Spectres, whose fleeting forms C. Walker endeavoured to fix by means of

his camera lens. The evening was as fine as the morning, but heavy clouds were beginning to hurry up from the south-west, that "haunt and home" of the rain.

Next morning we cycled to Kingussie, taking Creag Dhu en route. This is an extensive range of cliffs above the road near Cluny. We did two climbs here. The first is up into a large overhung chimney or cavern in the face near its centre. The chimney comes to an end under the overhang, but we found our way out on our left to a mountain ash tree clinging to the face, and from there went straight up to the top. Descending again, we attacked a smaller but sporting chimney, a little way to the east of the big one. This stopped in the same way as the first, but again we got out to the left. C. Walker, who led, then took us up the face above by steep and rotten grass ledges, which, but for the ice-axe, we could not have ventured upon. The ice-axe indeed is practically indispensable even in summer, on the very steep grass ledges characteristic of these rock faces. Well driven into the turf, it forms the only hitch, a thoroughly good one when properly worked.

On descending from the rocks from the second climb, we were just in time to rescue an unfortunate rabbit from the attack of a stoat. Though actually uninjured, poor Bunny was completely palsied by fear, its small heart beating like a sledge-hammer, and its eyes literally starting from its head. It gradually recovered, however, and by the time we had returned with our cycles repacked, was sufficiently recovered to hop away. Our weather luck still holding, we got to Kingussie in ample time for a meal before catching the south-bound train, the first rain of the trip beginning to fall as we entered Kingussie Station.

ARRAN.

Majestic Arran! dearest far

Of all the isles, on which the setting sun

In golden glory smiles."

LANDSBOROUGH Arran: A Poem, p. 14.

Arran, thy very name, like potent spell,

Fills the rapt mind with recollections sweet."

Ibid., p. 17.

ARRAN! How instantaneously do the eyes of those who have ever landed on that island waken into life and interest when they catch sight of these five letters! How vividly the memory brings back scenes of beauty and of peace, of sternness and of strife! Once again we wander in delight o'er ridge and peak, in glen and corrie. Once again we fight our way up gully, dyke, and slab, 'mid whirling mist or driving rain. Once more there comes before us that charming view of Brodick Bay and Goatfell.

"In few places on this fair earth is there beheld so delightful a mingling of beauty and grandeur " (Landsborough, p. 229).

Once more we recall the ever-changing, ever-maturing autumn tints on Glenshant Hill; heather, grass, bracken, tree, and rock, one day lit up with the sun's vivid rays, the next softened and subdued as mist and rain sweep down the glen. As Nicolson very rightly remarks:

"Any one who values a grand view of mountain, wood, and sea, and likes to see it from his own door at morning, noon, and evening, must decide unhesitatingly in favour of Brodick, which in this respect, is not surpassed, if equalled, by any place in Scotland-I should think, indeed, that in all the world there are not many spots more beautiful” (Scotsman, April 1872).

And yet nineteen out of twenty climbers who go to Arran stay at Corrie; they know not what they miss. Words fail utterly to convey the charm and variety of the view to one who has not seen it. Observe it daily for a month: always the same, yet never the same; let it sink into our being, let it become part of ourselves. Perhaps Professor A. C. Ramsay's description of the view is as good as any; it runs as follows:

"As the visitor enters Brodick Bay, the scene becomes exceedingly beautiful. The lofty precipices, and gloomy shadows of the rugged

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BRODICK.

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