THE PROMISED LAND

I TURN A CORNER and glimpse it for the first time. The legends are true. It isn’t just a myth – the godly glen does exist.

l'm like a traveller in search of a promised land of impossibly craggy peaks, razor-toothed ridges and lush hidden valleys – and I have finally arrived. At the head of the glen stands a colossal sentinel. The Big Herdsman (Buachaille Etive Mor) looks impenetrable, a domineering mass of knobbly outcrops and precipitous rock faces, gashed by vertical gullies.

Nervously I tiptoe below the gigantic sentry. Up close the Big Herdsman’s features soften, its profile switching from inhospitable to alluring. At the foot of the mountain is a solitary white cottage, an idyllic sanctuary like a mirage in the desert.

I journey deeper into the valley. I pass the Little Herdsman (Buachaille Etive Beag) – the slightly less imposing sibling – and arrive below the Chief of the Hills (Bidean nam Bian), the overlord of the glen. Loyally guarded by the craggy domes