AN IRISHWOMAN'S DIARY

BEALACH an Sgairne, they call it the Pass of the Clattering Stones. The year was 1942, and Frank Smythe swore that he, was not a superstitious man. The Himalayan and alpine climber was serving as a squadron leader near the Cairngorms at the time, and had taken a leave day out in north west Scotland to walk to the thundering Falls of Glomacb.

He was just north of this pass named after the sighing sound of wind through rocks, when he was filled with an inexplicable feeling of dread. He stopped for lunch lit his pipe. Still, the sense of foreboding consumed him. As he sat, he watched, more than a score of "raggedy people" struggling through a small ravine.

They appeared very weary, as though they had come a long way," he wrote later. "The pitiful procession was in the midst of the defile when all of a sudden, from either side, concealed men leapt to their feet and, brandishing spears, axes and clubs, rushed down with wild yells on the unfortunates beneath. There was a short fierce struggle, then a horrible massacre. Not one man, woman or child was left alive the defile was choked with corpses.

18th century massacre.

Choking himself, he hurried down the heather into Glen Glomaeh glomach being Gaelic for dark and gloomy. He had known nothing about the history in that part of Scotland, but felt that he had been given "a backward glimpse into a blood stained page". Sometime later, he was told of a massacre in the area during the 18th century Jacobite risings, but he wasn't satisfied with the link. Details of the dress, weapons and location did not match, he said.

With words like cailleach and references to fairy folk cropping up all over Highland maps, it is small wonder that the landscape should resonate. Witches were known to turn themselves into animals hares, cats and hill birds, and there was a long Highland custom of breaking eggshells so that the wild women couldn't use them for boats. You laugh? Well, Rennie McOwan, who collected such anecdotes for the recently published book Magic Mountains, believes that there are just too many "folk of integrity" relating odd experiences in the hills for everyone of them to be ridiculed.

Some Scots swear they cannot drive through Glencoe without being hit by its brooding atmosphere. It is not just the spectacular bleakness, but also the race memory of the fate of the Macdonald clan, whose reward for a late oath of allegiance to William of Orange was savage slaughter by the Argyll regiment. We didn't see any strange spectres up there. Our one supernatural experience almost a year ago was a night sight of Comet Hyakutake, that great dirty snowball which shot within 20 million miles of the sun waving its three tails.

Perhaps they were too many of us. Or perhaps we made too much noise. Having signed up, for a winter mountaineering course with the National Adventure Centre, Tiglin, we wanted to eat, drink, sleep, dream snow and solid ice. Some of the experienced climbers were there to tick off routes, but most of us had enlisted to train in winter skills. Scotland has one of the world's harshest mountain terrains, as the rate of accidents testifies.

Basic knowledge of techniques like self arrest, avalanche assessment, and the proper use of ice climbing tools can save a lot of grief. That's why the gear list was so daunting ice axe, ice hammer, crampons, gaiters, thermals, bivvy bags. It is a measure of Tiglin's professionalism that equipment receives as much attention as technique. No one gets within a spit of a hill if not properly dressed.

Safety techniques

Safety techniques took us to the summit of Buachaille Evite Mor, the mountain of the big herdsman, and we kick stepped our way round from Stob Coire nan Lochan to Stob Coire nam Beith. By Wednesday, we were so adept with crampons and ice axes that we were able to eat our lunch on the top of Ben Nevis, reached by the "non tourist" route of gully number four. Our first full ice climb was up a well scraped route, the Dorsal Arete a climb punctuated by lots of heavy breathing and the comforting crunch of snow.

Demanding? To the extent that a pint of beer represented a challenge at the close of day. Exhilarating? The only way to see the Highlands carpeted in snow. This is no plug in return for a "junket" mind. At around £350 for a week, it is worth every muscle ache.

Tiglin's Scottish weeks are always popular, which is why this year's schedule from mid March has only a few places left. In early April, there is a winter mountaineering and hill walking course in Torridon and Skye. There are other exotic possibilities, however, including alpine walking in Italy.

For those with previous climbing experience, there is American Rock, from late September. It involves a full month's climbing in Yosemite Valley, with warm sunshine and dry rock guaranteed. Tiglin's 97 programme has much to offer closer to home, including an adventure sports week for those with physical disabilities, and a curious "Discover Parapenting" weekend in July. Tempted? Write to the National Adventure Centre, Ashford, Co Wicklow. Or phone (0404)40169.