The
Far North-West.
Two years ago I left off my walk north at the inland
(south-eastern) end of Loch Broom, by the farm and car park at
Inverlael. Then I'd hitched in the pouring rain up to Ullapool. This
year I returned back to Ullapool and then tried to hitch back to
Inverlael, this time I was not successful. I had to march the 7 or 8
miles along the main road, getting to the car park around six in the
evening.
So there I was hot and sweaty but back on my own version
of the Cape Wrath trail, To mark the occasion on my great walk north
I headed off to the south- east. Up through forestry and past a
micro-hydro scheme, I past an old walled enclosure, looked at it and
thought “No, I'll go a bit further” two hours later I'm back at
the enclosure even hotter and very tired having found nothing but
sloping boggy ground for miles ahead.
Beinn Dearg (Red hill) is a biggie at 1084m you can see
it from all around but not on the route up it. All the way up the
Glen (Gleann na Sguaib) all you can see are the crags on the side of
the Glen and once at the bealach you still can't quite see the
summit. From the top, great views all the way to An Teallach and
Ullapool but not of the route up. From the summit I dropped back down
to the bealach and up the peak on the other side Meall nan
Ceapraichean (hill of the stumps) and it's outlier Ceann Garbh. I was
planning on doing another Munro Eididh nan Clach Geala (web of white
stones) before camping, but decided to call it a day at the bealach.
It had been a lovely sunny day and I was able to sit outside the tent
cooking and brewing tea, but high above cirrus clouds were starting
to show. Sure enough in the early hours the heavens opened and it
poured it down for a couple of hours.
It was still raining when I packed up and I started out
in full body armour, ten minutes later it stopped. The clagg was
still down and I need a compass bearing to reach the top of Eididh
nan Clach Geala (928m) only to find there were two tops? Which one to
use? I chose the second one mainly because I couldn't be bothered to
go back to the first one. Another bearing to the next top unnamed on
the map just 872m, a kilometre away. Four hundred metres later I'm
looking over the top of a crag, should have used the first top. I
follow the edge of the crags and find the col just as the clagg
starts to clear. From 872m I can see the next two days walk laid out
before me like a giant map. Below me are a line of lochans in Coire
an Lochain Sgeirich feeding a stream which flow away north cutting a
steep sided gorge across the moor. I follow this for three kilometres
to where it flows into the River Douchary. When I'd walked the Sheil
Bridge to Ullapool section of my walk I'd had five days of constant
heavy rain and every river had been in spate. I had all sorts of
problems crossing these rivers so I was a little concerned
approaching the Douchary, I needn't have worried I hopped across dry
footed. Further down stream the river entered a gorge, not well
marked on the map, although there are three waterfalls marked. I was
blown away by it when I peered in from high above. I decided there
and then to camp in the gorge that night.
There were falls big and small each with it's own
resident Dipper, a dry, flat and level grass area high enough above
the water not to be worried about get a soaking in the night and
trees for shade. I was just contemplating going for a swim when it
began to rain, slowly at first but very quickly turned into a deluge.
I dived into the tent and remained there all night.
Next day I spent far too long taking photographs of the
gorge downstream of where I'd camped, it really is a hidden gem.
Another stream joins the river via a spectacular waterfall at a point
where the river turns sharp left and becomes the Rhidorroch. Here I
left the river and cut across the moor for a kilometre to the western
end of Loch an Daimh. My route crosses the guidebook version of the
Cape Wrath trail at this point. It follows the north shore of the
Loch eastward for three kilometres to the bothy at Knockdamph. I went
westward for a kilometre, a small wooden post marked the start of a
stalker's path north across the next section of moor.
For the rest of the day I wandered along lost in my own
thoughts weaving a trail around, over and through a maze of peat hags
and stream beds. I crossed the Rappach Water, now only a shallow
dribble at a ruined farm called Lubachoire. All day the weather was
going from hot and sunny to dark and ominous the day ended sunny but
high in the air cirrus clouds were once more building. I camped in
Strath nan Lòn
on the south side of the Cromalt hills. I had to cross these to get
to Elphin and the next section of my walk. It was also at this point
that I discovered a three inch split in one of my boots just above
the sole. Would I be able to continue? Would the boot hold out? I
decided there was nothing I could do about them except carry on and
hope for the best.
According to the map
I was camped on a path, there was no sign of it on the ground but a
couple of kilometres further another ruin marked where my route
turned north once more. As I started to climb up the rain started to
fall down and the wind began to blow. From walking in a T-shirt the
day before I was now in full head to toe gore-tex, fleece hat and
gloves. My route went into zigzag mode, north then west then north
again then north-west all the time weaving around endless peat hags.
By mid-afternoon it finally stopped raining, I'd only covered ten
kilometres but had walked many more and was very knackered. I dropped
down to a couple of small Lochans and followed their outlet stream
downhill. Somewhere on this section I managed to step into a bog
right up to mid-thigh. As my boots were now full of bog I just waded
into the stream and washed off the stinking black muck. Further
downstream the stream just disappeared, one minute there was a
babbling flow of water the next nothing. A quick investigation
revealed a limestone pot hole, “limestone what's that doing here”?
The track took me to Elphin - all six houses and a community hall -
according to the hand painted signs all life in Elphin revolves
around the community hall, when I got there it was closed. That
night I camped on the shore of Cam Loch with spectacular views of
Suilven.
I had planned on
climbing some of the hills hereabouts but the walk up from Beinn
Dearg had taken longer than I'd hope plus I had to get the bus from
Durness the following Saturday, so time was limited. Also big black
clouds were building. I decided to skip forward a bit and hitched a
lift up to the Inchnadamph Hotel at the south-eastern end of Loch
Assynt the next morning. The Hotel is now a walkers hostel and is on
the guidebook trail, the implications of this hadn't dawned on me
until a couple of kilometres beyond the Hotel I heard a shout from
behind me. “Oh thank god I've caught you” he said “I saw you
passing the hostel, you are doing “The Trail” aren't you”. It
seemed I'd acquired a limpet.
The path takes a
meandering route around some small lochans before crossing a low col
the Bealach na h-Uidhe. It started to rain at the Bealach, only
lightly at first so I just put my jacket on and didn't bother with
the over trousers. Ten minutes latter I knew I'd made a big mistake
but it was too late I was soaked already. Visibility closed down to a
few metres as we stumbled on down eventually we found a cairn that
marked the start of a zigzag going down into the next valley. Half
way down the zigzags just stopped so we scrambled down the side of a
small stream. From the valley bottom we could look up at the Eas a
Chùal
Aluinn which is apparently the tallest waterfall in mainland Britain.
It fell over some crags next to our decent route, it wasn't very
impressive. The route from here down to the sea at Loch Glencoul and
around the beach to the Bothy was very hard going in the wind and
rain. The bothy was packed when we arrived, luckily four people were
preparing to leave and two more left half an hour later. That left
just three an Austrian walker the Limpet and me. When the Austrian
said he was heading on the Glendhu bothy seven kilometres further
around the Loch the Limpet decided to go with him, I decided to stay
where I was.
The wind continued
to howl and the rain poured down half the night but by morning it was
calm and the sky clearing. Loch Glencoul is divided into two arms by
the peninsular of Aird da Loch the path from Glencoul bothy to
Glendhu bothy goes out almost to the end of the Aird before going
right around the other arm of the Loch. On the north side there is a
remnant of the old coastal oak wood that would have once dominated
the whole west coast. Overhead an Eagle flew, I couldn't work where
it's Eyre was but it must have been close. Across the Loch the Moine
Thrust was clearly visible. Down by the shore a young seal dozed on a
rock tail held high to keep it out of the water. As I approached the
bothy I saw a familiar figure sitting by the door. “I saw you
coming across the Loch so I waited for you” he said. Deep joy!
From the Glendhu
bothy and for the rest of the day I would be walking on hard packed
estate roads, one of the worst surfaces for walking on I know.
Fortunately after five kilometres we came to a fork in the road. The
Limpet was going into Kylesku to buy food, I was going in the
opposite direction, inland across the ridge to Achfary and Foinaven.
I waved him goodbye and set off into my own solitude. It was hot and
there wasn't that much to look at so I plodded on and on. By the time
I descended down through the recently cleared forestry around the
village of Achfary my feet were killing me, they were so hot. I then
had a couple of kilometres along the road followed by more estate
roads before I came to the bothy of Lone, only it wasn't a bothy it
was locked. Luckily half a kilometre beyond the bothy was a small
copse that made a wonderful campsite.
I was up at 05.30,
there didn't seem to be too much damage to my feet which was good
because if I was going to get to the Cape and make the bus I'd need
to get a wiggle on for the next two days. I was walking before seven.
The climb up beside the Ailt Horn was a steady gradual gradient and I
was quickly at the Bealach Horn. Here the path descended down into
Srath Dionard but the way ahead was obvious. Just keep going uphill
to the summit of An t-sàil
Mhor due north from the Bealach, again an easy gradient. In contrast
the north side is a sheer drop down to the coire floor. Follow the
cliff top west to the next top, just marked 808m on the OS map. A
grassy col topped by quartzite scree, fossilized limpets and mussels
still preserved in the quartzite. Then the summit and wow what a
viewpoint. The Loch bejewelled moorland, Handa Island, Loch Laxford,
Loch Inchard and Eilean an Ròin.
On the horizon Lewis and further out could that be St Kilda?
Over the moor
another squall was coming my way, I move on. Down horrid steep loose
scree to the col of Cadha na Beucaich, then up again, up the side of
a rock buttress. Stash poles, hands coming into play scrambling up
the rock, great fun. On top of the buttress I see a bypass path but
why spoil the fun. Up along a sharp ridge, real walking in the
clouds, another unnamed top 869m. Down to another col and up again,
the main summit of Foinaven, Ganu Mor 911m (3m short of a Munro). The
top covered in cloud, no view from here. I head west, straight down
the scree slope then follow a stream into Coire Dùail
and on to Srath Dionard and more estate road seven more kilometres to
the road (A838). I come out onto the road by a farm Gualin House,
What to do now? I'd already covered twenty kilometres and climbed
several high hills but wanted to get nearer to Sandwood bay for the
next day. I thought about camping at Feur Loch another four
kilometres further, but that turned out to be more of a muddy puddle
and no where to pitch. Five kilometres from Feur Loch is Strathan
bothy, I bite the bullet and plod on, on and on it just never seems
to come into view. It's getting dark by the time I get there at
22.30, after a 29 kilometres day.
Once again I'm away
early, I've a long way to go and I'm not sure when the last bus from
the lighthouse goes. The three kilometres from the bothy to Sandwood
Loch are a nightmare, some of the worst bog of the whole trip. I'm
very aware of how much time I'm loosing trying to get out of this
mess. Just as I get to the fresh water Loch I see a fox raiding birds
nests, I try but fail to get a photograph. Once on the side of the
Loch the going gets better but it's such a beautiful place I just
want to keep on taking pictures. From the beach I climb up a steep
hill only to drop down again almost to sea level before climbing up
once more, followed by yet another river gorge. In all there are six
gorges to cross in the twelve kilometres from Sandwood bay to the
lighthouse.
A fence guards the
MOD range with big signs warning people to keep out when the red
flags are flying, they also made an easy style for climbing over the
fence. I got a good view of the lighthouse a few kilometres from the
bay. “Not long now” I thought, but as the up's and down's kept
coming there just never seemed to be anymore signs of the elusive
light. As I climbed up the final hill I caught sight of a mini-bus on
the road above me. “Hope that's not the last one.” At 15.30 I
finally arrived hot and thirsty at the lighthouse. Just as I did so a
man emerged from the cafe. He said. “ If you want the bus you'd
better get on, this is the last one”. I didn't even get time for a
cup of tea. I stayed the night on the campsite in Durness. Next
morning it was pouring with rain, it rained all the way to home.
