Title: MIST CONNECTION
Author: Preferred Customer
Company: Dell Computer Corporation

STULAVAL, ARNAVAL, TRINAVAL AND LOCH SNIGISCLEIT
	
The peak of Stulaval, 1,216 feet above sea level, is clearly visible from our holiday home on North Locheynort.  Seeing it across the water, you would take it for the easternmost of the South Locheynort hills, the others being – in order, from the west – Sheaval, Arnaval and Trinival.  (How the ancient Norse names roll off the tongue!)  Appearances, though, are deceiving, for Stulaval actually stands well behind those three, and is as near to its southern neighbour, Triurebheinn, as it is to Arnaval. 
	
There are many approaches to Stulaval by land, and I shall describe them all.  But my first visit there, in August 2006, was by sea.  And therein lies a cautionary tale. Our friend and neighbour John Joseph MacDonald had brought my two sons – Max, 17, and Adam, 15 – and me in his boat and dropped us off near Kyle Stuley, on the island’s eastern perimeter.  

The plan was that we would climb Stulaval and then continue northwest over Arnaval (835 feet) and Trinival (643) to the terminus of the South Locheynort road. Alternatively, we could proceed due west from Stulaval to the Thornaraigh River and follow its southern bank to the Mingarry footpath, which leads in turn to the main highway.  Upon reaching one destination or the other, we would call home, where my wife – who does not share our taste for hill walking – was preparing dinner for awaited guests, and either she or one of the guests would collect us by car.  The plan seemed eminently do-able, for it was only about four in the afternoon; we still had six to seven hours of daylight, and the sky was clear except for one innocuous cloud in the east. 

We scrambled up Stulaval’s eastern slope, pausing every so often to turn and enjoy stunning views of Stuley Island and the Minch.  As we neared the top, one of the boys said to me, “Don’t look, but that cloud has gotten bigger.” It certainly had.  Within moments, it had enveloped Stuley Island, and moments later it enveloped us, so that we could scarcely see one another, let alone our surroundings.  Staying close together, we struggled through rain and mist to the summit, and reviewed our options.
	
There was no question now of returning over Arnaval and Trinival, for both were invisible.  Knowing what I do today, I would have adopted the fallback plan by heading toward the Thornaraigh River, which winds through low ground around Arnaval’s southern base toward Mingarry.  But I had never explored that part of the island, and, even with compass and ordnance map in hand, did not care to make its acquaintance in zero visibility. 

So instead we felt our way cautiously down Stulaval’s west flank, and, once at sea level, circled north around the western edge of Loch Snigiscleit.  This loch, which we were seeing for the first time, is surpassingly beautiful, but we lacked leisure to savour its attractions.  Our destination was the south shore of Loch Eynort, opposite Meall Mhor, where I knew the ground.  Although we got there safely, the detour added about two hours to our journey.  When we finally reached the last house on South Locheynort, night had fallen, the food on our table was cold, my wife and guests were hungry and worried, and the helicopter crew at Stornoway was doubtless preparing another rescue mission.
	
Wishing never again to replicate August’s experience, I made it a point, during my next visit, to climb Stulaval from every possible direction and study the terrain.  I found that, if you go entirely by land, there are at least four approaches.
  
The shortest route is about two-and-a-half miles and two-and-a-half hours each way. Start from the end of the South Locheynort road past Arnaval’s northern base.  The walking, though, is rough.

If you’re more ambitious, you can start at the same point and cross straight over Trinival and Arnaval, neither of which is especially challenging, and as we were supposed to do, in reverse, on our journey back.  The distance is about the same, as is the time.

The other two routes are longer, about four miles apiece, but easier and hence only fractionally more time consuming, because one involves very little climbing, and the other none at all except for Stulaval itself.  The former route passes over the low ridge that separates Trinival from Sheaval and then winds around Arnaval’s southern base.  The latter route, reversing our August “fallback” plan – is via the Mingarry footpath.  When the path peters out near Loch nan Caorach, keep walking east to the Thornaraigh River and follow its southern bank until Stulaval looms ahead.  One warning:  in November, the short patch of ground between the path and the river is the wettest I’ve seen on South Uist.  That’s wet.
	
When you come to Loch Snigiscleit, pause to savour its attractions, for it is surpassingly beautiful.  And the views from Stulaval’s summit are superb.  But keep a wary eye on the clouds.