Creag Bheag: the name says it all, really. The little rock; the little crag. Though this fails to explain why Aonach Beag, the little Aonach, adjacent to Ben Nevis, is bigger and higher than its neighbour Aonach Mhor, the big Aonach.
I have a fantasy, or a way to put things. One spring morning, the fantasy goes, I shall awake in my bed to the sound of a loud voice. 'No more of that big mountain stuff' it thunders. 'It's walks in the park from now on for you.'
This voice of fate may or may never turn up. Whichever way, even without the body beginning to fall apart, there is a place for the little hill, the little rock - the little mountain, even, if we can be allowed to speak of such a thing. It's the time of year when big mountains are off the menu. It's the short days of November through to February's end. It's those days when the weather on the high tops is inclement or downright dangerous. It's those 'not too much energy today' days, those 'can't be bothered' days. Those days when, even with perfect fair weather and a long summer's day ahead, you just fancy a little hill, a little mountain. I hope that, when camping epics to remote hills are simply memories, I shall still be able to visit, climb, savour, Creag Bheag.
Photos: Creag Bheag this February