Wanderings of a Naturalist 



— the buds were small and undeveloped, and at least ten days 

 later than the plants at 4,000 feet. 



Across the Lairig and on the Cairngorm-Ben MacDhui 

 plateau, Lochan Buidhe appeared as though only a stone's 

 throw from us, so clear was the air. Eastward the sky was 

 brighter, and the lochan from its unruffled surface reflected 

 the blue. Around it the hill grasses grew fresh and green, 

 so that the scene here was of great beauty. Even Ben 

 MacDhui itself lost some of its sternness in the soft light, and 

 amongst its many acres of granite scree small patches of fresh 

 grass appeared here and there in unlooked-for places. 



Northwards heavy rain was falling just beyond Aviemore, 

 and in Rothiemurchus and Glentaore thin blue smoke was 

 rising where recent forest fires had eaten into the peat and 

 were still smouldering. At the very top of Braeriach a ptar- 

 migan and her brood rose at our feet, the chicks already 

 strong on the wing. The summit cairn of the hill is built 

 only a few feet from where the precipices of Coire Bhrochain 

 drop sheer over 1,000 feet to the depths of the corrie beneath. 



Concerning the origin of Coire Bhrochain, I heard from 

 a veteran Gaelic-speaking stalker the following curious tradi- 

 tion. 



Coire Bhrochain means the Corrie of the Porridge, and 

 according to this tradition its name was given to it from the 

 fact that on one occasion a drove of cattle, being herded from 

 Inverness-shire to the markets of the south, lost their way in 

 the hills during mist, and falling over the great precipice were 

 dashed to pieces on the rocks below, being so mangled as to 

 appear as porridge after their fall. I give the story for what 

 it is worth, as I have not seen it set down elsewhere, and with 

 the passing of the older generation of stalkers these old tradi- 

 tions are fast dying out. But to me it would seem as though 

 a more likely derivation is to be found from the fact that in the 

 corrie are often white seething vapours, as though the steam 

 from a great bowl of porridge were rising. 



Crossing to the northern cairn of Braeriach, a few hundred 



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