Carved by fire and ice, Glen Coe is one of Scotland’s most haunting landscapes. Its steep, brooding mountains rise sheer from the valley floor, their jagged ridges often lost in mist. To walk here is to feel dwarfed by time itself.

 

But Glen Coe is remembered not only for its beauty, but for its sorrow. In February 1692, soldiers loyal to the government turned on their MacDonald hosts, who had sheltered them for nearly two weeks. In the dead of night they began a slaughter that left dozens dead and the glen forever scarred. The Massacre of Glencoe has echoed down the centuries as a symbol of betrayal and clan tragedy.

 

Yet the glen is older still in story. Folklore speaks of giants who once roamed these peaks, and of the Cailleach Bheur, the great hag of winter, whose staff is said to have split the mountains as she strode through. On stormy nights, travelers claim to hear ghostly cries borne on the wind, as if the land itself remembers.

 

Today Glen Coe stands as both a place of pilgrimage and a reminder: a valley where history, legend, and grief converge beneath some of the most dramatic skies in Scotland.