As I stand in the mist, surrounded on all sides by towering mountains, I feel a growing sense of unease.
I’ve negotiated slippery trails, scrambled up rocky slopes and forded an ice cold burn in my mission to reach this hauntingly beautiful spot, but darkness threatens and I need to head back.
I’m in the iconic Lost Valley of Glencoe, also known as the Hidden Valley, and there’s not a soul to be seen.
It’s a spot that would normally be hoaching with walkers, but it seems that late afternoon in winter – when the weather is dire – is a great time to come if you want it all to yourself.
The reason for my unease is not entirely because I’m worried about getting back.
The Lost Valley of Glencoe has a tragic past
There’s a strange, gloomy atmosphere here that sort of seeps into you – it’s as though the glen’s tragic past seems to sink into your soul.
I’m possibly being over-dramatic. Perhaps if the sun was blazing I’d feel different.
It was to this secret valley that some of the MacDonald clan fled during the infamous massacre on February 13, 1692.
The most commonly accepted account is that 38 men, women and children were killed by Scottish government forces, allegedly for failing to pledge allegiance to the new monarchs, William III and Mary II. A further 40 who attempted to flee the glen in the snow died of exposure.
It’s said that the clan chief MacIain was shot in the head, with his wife attacked before she fled into the hills to later perish in the snow.
Those who sought safe haven in the Hidden Valley, or Coire Gabhail, would not have been easy to find.
Secret valley
The vast, grass and stone-covered plain, was also where clan members hid their cattle, perhaps rustled, or to keep it from being rustled.
It’s not an especially technical hike, but the rocks can be slippery when wet.
I left my car at the Three Sisters car park on the busy A82 – if it’s packed, as it can be in high season, you might be able to get parked in a smaller one down the glen.
The view of the Three Sisters, the dramatic northern ridges of the Bidean nam Bian range, is out of this world. And thankfully, not everyone who pulls over to drink in the vista can be bothered hiking off into the wilderness to find the mystical Lost Valley.
I set off solo wearing full waterproofs, and, as the mist lifted for about three seconds, I whipped out my phone to shoot pictures of the scenery.
The trail leads down to the valley and descends a metal staircase which then crosses a bridge over the rushing River Coe.
There’s a scramble up a sheer rock slope with wire cables for support before the path heads steeply over boulders and heather.
Stupendous views
Looking back across the glen, the views of the Aonach Eagach ridge are stupendous.
I spot a flash of white, which I realise is Allt-Na-Reigh, Jimmy Savile’s former cottage, having driven past it earlier.
Continuing through a wooden glen, the path climbs up around the base of Gearr Aonach, the middle summit of The Three Sisters.
The trail threads perilously close to a steep gorge in places, and it’s easy to trip over rocks and roots if you’re not careful.
Waterfalls splash and tinkle as I get higher up the glen, and there are plunge pools galore, perfect for a dip in warmer weather. I fill up my bottle with icy, crystal clear water and can confirm that it tastes fabulous.
After about 45 minutes, and having strayed from the path by accident, I reach some rough stepping-stones over the burn. It’s easy to ford, although my boots get a tad wet.
The next challenge is scaling a smooth rock slope with a steep drop, or choosing to scramble over a huge boulder.
The “wow” moment
My heart is pounding as I reach the highest point of the walk and gaze in awe as the mist-shrouded Lost Valley opens up before me.
The flat expanse is littered with rocks and boulders, some as big as houses.
I pause for a sit-down and try to imagine what it was like for the MacDonald clan all those centuries ago.
Certainly, the spot is completely cut off – the ideal hiding place for stolen cattle, and for the MacDonalds who attempted to escape the massacre.
The weather seems to be in sympathy with my thoughts and before long, rain is lashing down, hiding the snow-capped peak of Stob Coire Sgreamhach at the head of the glen.
I return more or less by the same route and reach the car as darkness is truly kicking in. Any longer and I’d have needed a headtorch to navigate the tricky terrain.
I may return in summer, perhaps to wild camp in the Lost Valley, or to use it as a base from which to scale the mighty peaks of Bidean nam Bian. But I’d better get there early, to avoid the hordes…
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