By CAMERON McNEISH
THE place was infested with highly polished, green Land Rovers. They made me feel uncomfortable.
It's not that I have any great objection to bumping into royalty - this was their Balmoral Estate, after all - but I would have felt happier if I'd known where they were shooting, and Land Rovers tend to have a peculiar effect on me.
Whenever I see one trundling down a bulldozed track towards me, I tend to go on the alert. My heart rate increases, my blood pumps faster and the adrenaline begins to surge.
I guess my pre-Land Reform Act bogies aren't quite dead in me yet.
As it was, I saw neither hide nor hair of any royalty, or any other shooter for that matter. A ranger told me I'd be okay if I took a walk up Conachcraig, so that's where I went.
This eastern neighbour of dark Lochnagar is a Corbett, a Scottish hill between 2,500 feet and 2,999 feet, an easy Corbett at that.
Its ascent shares the same tourist route to Lochnagar from Allt-na-giubhsaich as far as the high point of the track that runs between the Spittal of Glenmuick and Glen Gelder.
At this point the Lochnagar track, and the crowds, veer away to the west to climb up to the bealach below Meikle Pap. The route to Conachcraig goes in the opposite direction and follows a less used path that wriggles its way up the heather and boulder slopes towards the Corbett's summit.
It had been many years since I last climbed this little hill, and I certainly didn't recall a footpath on it, but the steadily increasing popularity of Corbett-bagging is obviously beginning to have an effect.
Well over 3,000 hill-walkers have now climbed all the Munros, so a large percentage of those have doubtlessly turned their attention to the Corbetts. More footpaths on the smaller hills are inevitable.
Having said that, compared to the wide Lochnagar track, this one up Conachcraig is narrower than a sheep trod, and since it didn't go any further than the summit cairn, I guessed most Corbett-baggers simply bag the top and return the same way, probably as an addendum to a Munro-day on Lochnagar.
This is a bit of a shame, and it isn't the best way to enjoy the hill.
Conachcraig may not be the most exciting hill in Scotland, but it is an excellent viewpoint, and a traverse of the hill, with a descent from the shallow bealach between its two southern tops, offers a much more enjoyable afternoon than a quick raid for the summit.
It's well worthwhile crossing the broad ridge to Conachcraig's slightly lower north summit, if only for the much better view it offers towards neighbouring Lochnagar.
From the main summit, you're at too tight an angle to see much of Lochnagar, other than its rather dull Meikle Pap slopes, but from Conachcraig's 850-metre top, you get a much better view of the mountain.
From here you get a glimpse into the great corrie that is such a feature of Lochnagar, and whose cliffs make it one of the principal winter climbing venues in Scotland.
From this wider angle, the corrie's crags appear to form an almost complete ring of cliffs, with only a narrow notch opening up the corrie's innards for all to see and admire.
Clouds were spilling over the Cac Carn Mor cliffs into the cirque, increasing the visual drama, and I could well empathise with Byron's description as "dark" Lochnagar.
As I left the shelter of the summit crags, a large bird burst from the cliffs below me. It was bigger than a buzzard, although smaller than an eagle, but the white patches on its great wings, and the white band across its tail, identified it as an immature golden eagle.
It swept round to the north of the hill and was lost to sight in seconds.
Its image stayed with me as I began to make my way downhill, down heather covered slopes towards the track and the old pine woods at Allt-na-giubhsaich.
I hoped the shooters had enjoyed such a good day as I had.
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