Information for Cape Wrath Trail caperers and some musings on gear

Just to milk this little adventure as much as possible in terms of blogging inches, I thought I'd summarize a few potentially  useful notes for anyone else thinking of setting out on a Cape Wrath Trail caper, as well as add some thoughts on a few bits of kit I took with me for the trip.

The following information relates to how things were in July 2010.  River levels can go up as well as down, bridges can fall into disrepair and become unsafe, etc, etc.  Standard terms and conditions apply.

Useful information (well we would have found it useful)

Mostly this relates to places to stay and to eat.  There are a few notes on route-finding specifics in the individual posts for each day.  I still don't know the correct way to get out of KLH.

There are bothies at

• Corry Hully (3 miles from Glenfinnan)
• A Chuil (western end of forestry in Glen Dessary)
• Sourlies - this is very small but there is enough excellent camping space outside for a small army
• Barisdale - £3 per person per night.  Camping in the field opposite the bothy at £2 ppn.  See http://www.barisdale.com/.  Camping in the bay is not allowed.

There are no opportunities for wild camping between Kinloch Hourn and Glen Shiel or at least it is all very lumpy and wet.  The shelter on the west side of Buidhe Bheinn (at NGR 940096) - the Garden Shed - should only be considered for emergency use and is very small.

The camping spots noted by Brook and Hinchcliffe along the River Carnach look ok.

There is no camping at Killilan.  There is a bunk house at Camas-Luinie.  There is a good wild camping site in Glen Ling ( at NGR 945327).

There are hotels at Glen Shiel (Kintail Lodge) and Strathcarron.  Be warned that the prices for Kintail Lodge are per person not per room (next time I will be more careful to check such things).

Kintail Lodge also has a bunk house and a drying room.

There are tea rooms at Kinloch Hourn, the Jac-o-Bite at Glen Shiel and at the Pottery a mile south of Stratchcarron.

River crossings

Most river crossings were bridged and the bridges in a safe state.

There is a bridge across the River Carnach, after Sourlies at NM865964, which is in need of repair but appears usable with care (I walked over it and back)

We had river crossing problems at :

NG928107 where the river coming off Buidhe Bheinn meets the Allt Coire Mhalagain (day 5)

NG934163 where the Allt a Chiore Chaoil meets the Allt a coire Uaine (day 5)

NH006265 where the Allt na Laoidhre meets Allt a Ghlomaich (day 6)



Gear

I'd bought a few new bits of kit for this walk.  Most of them performed well.

Neoair Regular - This was good once I got the hang of inflating it hard enough.  It takes me more than the dozen man sized puffs stated in the literature.  Maybe that's for the small one.  The first time I used it, it felt like a water bed but I think it was a bit soft.  It requires 20 of my sized puffs. It's quite narrow but I've got used to that.  I think it was probably worth the money.  It would be interesting to try the larger size.

Skin So Soft  - This just didn't work, well not as a midge repellant.  The chap who runs the cafe at Kinloch Hourn said it didn't work for him either

Skin So Soft + Lavendar Oil (as suggested by Alan Rayner) - This didn't work either but it does make sweaty armpits and socks smell a lot nicer!

Garmin Geko 201 GPS - this worked very well, though the stated accuracy was quite low in some areas surrounded by high mountains.  Don't know if that is usual for this sort of device.  It usually found the satellites in under a minute.  Anyway, it did what I wanted, which was to confirm where I was, is very small and light (88g) and is a doddle to use.  My son reckons that the eTrex H finds the satellites a bit quicker than the Geko.  My experience is that the Geko takes up to a minute to find them, unless it is completely lost and you accidentally press the wrong button, when it takes 20 while it seems to scan the entire universe for signs fo life.

Evernew Titanium cooking pot - There are good reviews of these coming out in the press but I was a bit disappointed with mine for a couple of reasons.  The metal is so thin that it doesn't disperse the heat from a pocket rocket very well.  If all you want to do is boil water, it works fine but heating up rice or a non-freeze dried bag meal usually ends up with food burnt on the bottom of the pan, even if you use very low heat.  I've read since, that titanium is a poorer conductor of heat than aluminium, so the heat won't disperse across the pan base as quickly.  It's probably better with a wider diameter burner but that would add weight to the overall setup, which makes you think you'd be better of sticking with a pocket rocket and aluminium pan. 

Also, the lid flips over sometimes if you don't place it on the pan too carefully and then it's a faff getting it the right way up without burning your fingers.  Finally, the plastic sleeves on the handles could do to be a bit longer.  When they get warm the plastic softens and they slip, so it's possible to end up holding the metal bit, which can be hot.

TravelTap - I blogged about this last year but it's worth saying here that I still love it and the convenience of having fresh tasting, pure water instantly from just about any water source.

Osprey Exos 58 rucksack - I love this rucksack.  I love the pockets.  I keep my wet whether gear in the main one on the back (front?), GPS and day snacks in the mesh ones on the hip belt. water bottles in the mesh side pockets and a ton of stuff in the top and side zip pockets.  If I pack it right, I can go the whole day without having to open the top to get into the  main compartment.

MemoryMap and Ortlieb A5 map case - I cribbed this setup from Alan Sloman after the Moffat-Peebles debacle.  Rather than buy expensive waterproof paper to print from Memory Map, print on standard A4 paper, fold it in half and use an Ortlieb A5 map case, which is both a convenient size and totally waterproof.   I kept the maps I wasn't using for the day in a ziplock plastic wallet inside the drysack inside my rucksack.  Previous day's maps can be easily disposed of, e.g.as emergency bog paper or for setting fire to things!

There are two things I need to sort out still.  One is a way of keeping my feet drier and the other is experimenting with some freeze dried food.  Last time I tried this stuff, 15 years ago probably, it was disgusting but it sounds like it may have got better.  My daily food ration currently weighs around 750g, which for 4 days feels too heavy - at least I wouldnt complain if it was lighter, as long as what I was carrying tasted ok and didn't leave me feeling hungry.

North to the Cape - Day 7: Glen Ling to Strathcarron

This was to be our last day and we had just 8 miles left to reach Strathcarron.  The tents were wet but at least it stopped raining while we packed them away.  We set off about 9:30 and I was glad that I had had my last breakfast of  noodles and soup for a while.  I really do need to change the menu (please, nobody suggest porridge).

We reached the Allt Loch Innis nan Seangan (I'm also relieved I don't have to type that again), which was easy to cross and started to gain height as the track turned north towards the bealach and forestry. It rained on and off but it was a pleasant and peaceful walk with varied views from the snaking River Ling, through scented pine woods and out to  more open countryside above Attadale.  There was little or no wind and it had got a bit midgy on this side, so we kept moving in a bid to outrun them, which was of course futile.

Upper Glen Ling

After a kink in the lane, to get round Attadale House and Gardens, we met the A890, which was really very unpleasant.  Apart from the feeling we had been spat back into the real world, there was no footpath or verges and quite a lot of fast moving traffic.  In addition the road climbs quite steeply as it cuts over the western end of Carn Ruaridh.  Why couldn't it have been built it alongside the railway line?  Periodically we would have to dive for cover as another vehicle sped past, and in places where there was a bit of a verge, we kicked our way through discarded bottles and cans.  It felt like a poor end to what had been a fine walk.  However, some relief was at hand in the form of two things. 

The first was an unexpected viewpoint, with a tourist information point describing the Moine Thrust on the far side of the loch.  I think it was probably  mentioned in The Joy of Sex but I'd long since given my copy to Oxfam to send out to Africa. 

Loch Carron from the view point

 The Moine Thrust

The second and even more exciting (yes, I appreciate that's hard to believe) was a tea room at the bottom of the hill (marked on the OS 1:50k as Pottery), assuming we survived the campervans driven by anxious tourists, who were not going to slow down for anything and risk losing momentum up this stretch of 1 in 5.  It took a few minutes to make ourselves presentable enough to go inside and we sat at the first empty table before anyone noticed the odour of socks and asked us to leave.  We might well have stayed there all afternoon but it was only another mile to Strathcarron, where a hotel room, hot shower and bar awaited us. 

Strathcarron Hotel
















It took a little while to find anyone at the hotel to give us our key but the goth receptionist was a very pleasant lass (well I thought so).  Christine opened the window and put our boots and socks out on the flat roof just below it.  We could probably have bottled the smell and sold it to the military as a biological WMD. 

The bar was typical of many in this part of Scotland with pictures of the local shinty team on the walls and a motley assortment of people including two oil men and some local fishermen who came to sit at the table next to ours.  They were big and loud and it was impossible not to overhear their conversation but apart from a few words which sounded close to english, I've no idea what they were saying.  The younger of the three fishermen felt it necessary to repeat  back to the two older ones, everything they said but in the form of a question.  "They're putting in new bouys".  "So they're putting in new bouys?"  "Aye, that's right lad, they're putting in new bouys". After more than 10 minutes of this 'Groundhog Day' experience I was close to interjecting to ask if he had some hearing or comprehension problem but Christine saved me from myself and ordered some more Red Cuillin.

So we'd done what we set out to do - 70 miles from Glenfinnan to Strathcarron with16,000 ft of ascent . We'd deviated from the original plan in terms of some of the places we stopped at night but it had all worked out pretty well.  We'd had two nights in bothies, two in tents, two in hotels and one in a garden shed.  I'm pleased we took the route through Knoydart and not Cameron McNeish's with his 'up the middle' start.  I walked Glen Affric and Glen Lichd last year on the challenge anyway, and they are both very fine,  but I think the North to the Cape start is much more in the spirit of what a route to Cape Wrath should deliver.  I don't know if it is the toughest long distance walk in Scotland, a description  I have read in a few places.  I'll maybe have more of an opinion when I've done the rest of it.  If we had been continuing, we would certainly have taken a day off at Strathcarron.  Knoydart is full on, intense, rugged and wild. You're hemmed in by the mountains and sea all the way.  It's a good value for money route that you have to commit to and be confident in your navigation, hillwalking and camping skills.  Until Shiel Bridge, any escape route would need a least a day to reach somewhere useful, unless you could get a ride out from KLH.

So this leaves the question of when we will come back to complete the remaining 120 miles to Cape Wrath.  It won't be this year and if we get on the Challenge next year, it may have to wait until 2012, which would be very frustrating as I am itching to experience the rest of the trail.

The End

Distance for the day: 8 miles and 1600 ft of ascent.  Totals from Glenfinnan: 70 miles and 16,000 ft.

North to the Cape - Day 6: Shiel Bridge to Glen Ling

Just north of Shiel Bridge is the place where the North to the Cape route, which we were following,  and the Cape Wrath Trail,coming in from Glen Lichd,meet up and continue on to the Falls of Glomach.  After that there are a few variants, which we had mused over but the wet weather and heavy going underfoot inclined us to stick with the Book's route via Killilan and Glen Ling to Strathcarron, from where we would be getting the train back to Sheffield in two days time and return to the day jobs.  For now, the biggest hurdle to overcome was leaving the comfort of the hotel.  The high winds and heavy rain had continued most of the night.  Looking out of the window at 8am, the clouds had lifted a little but it was still raining steadily. I focussed on packing the rucksack and collecting still damp items of clothing from the drying room.  I wanted to get off before either of us articulated the idea of calling it a day and getting a lift to Strathcarron.  At the same time I felt a slight pang of guilt at dragging Christine back out into the wind and rain for another two days.  But this was what we had come to do, so it had to be done.

We finally got away at 10am and headed for Morvich, passing the Jac-O-Bite restaurant which Steve Gough and I had called in at during our first day on the TGO Challenge last year.  Well to be strictly accurate, during our first 500yds from signing out at the hotel!  Despite the rather naff name, the J-O-B does extremely good coffee and cake.  Thankfully it didn't open until 11am, so we had no temptation for further delay.

Glen Shiel and The Jac-o-bite

The road to Morvich and the forestry section above Strath Croe is not terribly exciting but it made a welcome change from the previous day's endless splodging over trackless moorland.  The rain came and went in heavy showers and we gained height up to the Bealach na Sroine, which has a line of cairns spaced every hundred yards or so.  I know this is a tourist route but even in dense fog it, I would have thought it would be almost impossible to get lost along this narrow corridor.  By this time the cloud lifted enough to give some fine views to the north and a sizeable river ending abruptly in some white stuff.  OK, so maybe this was going to be worth turning out for. 

The Allt Coire Lochan disappearing over the Falls of Glomach, viewed from the northern end of Bealach na Sroine











This stretch is such a contrast to Knoydart.  These hills seem much friendlier and the whole place has a far less serious feel to it, which was not unwelcome after the previous four days.  There is an NTS sign at the top of the falls warning you it's a dangerous place (you don't say) and a steep path down the side which leads to a couple of natural viewing platforms where one can gaze in awe at the power of nature and capture it inadequately on an SD card. 

Falls of Glomach

One postive thing about rain in Scotland is the way it brings out the waterfalls.  Glomach is about the same height as Gaping Gill main shaft is deep and I'm happy never to have seen this much water going down GG.  Feeling slightly wobbly, which may have been the exposure or hunger, we climbed back to the top of the falls and had a bite to eat, thereby treating the symptons for both possible causes in one go. 

The track down the left side of Allt a Glomaich is well defined and mostly risk free save for a few awkwards steps lower down.  The Allt na Laoidhre, which crosses the path, required wading. 

Crossing the Allt na Laoidhre

Stopping on the far side to wring water from socks (and boots), we had some more lunch before continuing down to Glen Elchaig, where a good bridge crosses the River Elchaig. 

Looking west down Glen Elchaig

The track and subsequent road to Killilan isn't that exciting but it did allow us to pick the pace up a little.  There is a bunkhouse at Camas-Luinie and if you know that, and the fact that there is nowhere to camp at Killilan, you would take the road on the left about a mile before Faddoch.  We didn't know either of these facts, so we headed straight to Killilan, with its neatly trimmed grass verges and tidy fields.  It felt like being in Switzerland but a Switzerland where nobody lives.  It was 6pm by now and we were getting a bit past our use by date for the day.  We sat on a wall just by the sign pointing to the bunkhouse 2km away and brewed up some soup.  Neither of us felt like doing it.  It was 2km and it was in the wrong direction. When a  car drove past I flagged it down to ask about camping.  The occupants were very helpful and suggested we could probably camp by a shed just over the bridge.  It sounded a bit vague and when we went to look at it, it was in a field of sheep with no easy access to fresh water, despite the R. Ling being close by.  It wasn't raining and we still had at least 3 hours of daylight so I suggested to Christine we continue on for another hour to look for somewhere in Glen Ling.  This wasn't greeted with any real enthusiam but the options were limited, so we headed up the road to Nonach Lodge, ignoring the somewhat off-putting sign saying private road.  We were half way up the road when a car drove up full of fisherman (fly not Captain Birdseye).  They stopped and asked us if knew where we were going.  I tried to sound confident.  I'm a consultant.  I spend my life trying to sound like I know what I'm talking about.  Rather perceptively, they asked if we were looking for somewhere to camp and said that there was a good spot by the river about 35 minutes walk along the track which follows the river.  They said we needed to turn right at the end of the road and go through the gate by the hen house.  This was slightly confusing as the hens had gone to bed, as their owner explained to us when he came out to ask if we knew where we were going and explained the route again.

It had turned into a lovely evening and knowing we had a place to camp, our spirits lifted as we passed through the iron gate.  The track leads to a gate in a deer fence, at the point where the power lines cross the river.  Immeadiately after this the path forks.  The obvious route goes uphill whilst the route following the river is less clear.   So excited was I about getting the tents up, I would have missed it, had Christine not shouted me back.  It was a good job one of us still had an eye on the ball.  The River Ling is a proper Scottish salmon river, wide and pondering for long stretches, punctuated by small cascades and deep pools and whilst not a fisherman, I can see it must be a fabulous place to stand and wave a fly around on a bit of string.  I can't remember the detail now but I do recall that the rock slabs in the riverbed offered some interest to a weary walker with Ben Killilan rising up behind.    There are two camping spots but the first is well above the river, so not so convenient for fresh water.  The better one is about five minutes further on, a little before the Allt Loch Innis nan Seangan, and is a large expanse of flat grass separated from the shingle shore and River Ling by a small flood embankment.  The midgies were out by the time we got there and pitching the tents was a rapid affair and I remember collapsing inside and after a while, forcing myself to get the stove on and warm up some food.  It was 9pm.  Another satisfying day, where we'd overcome the temptaion to give up at Shiel Bridge and ended up two miles further on than planned.  It rained during the night but only lightly.

Our camp in Glen Ling














We'd covered 16 miles and a climbed a tad over 3000ft that day and were 62 miles from Glenfinnan.

North to the Cape - Day 5: Onwards to Shiel Bridge

It rained heavily all night.  Looking out from the door of the potting shed the next morning, everywhere was awash.  Knoydart was in flood.  I half expected an ark to go sailing by with pairs of animals on board: 2 sheep, 2 deer, 2 midges, 2 cleggs (or would that be a Clegg and a Cameron?).  I went out clutching the poo trowel to contemplate the day ahead and inspect the ford.  It looked considerably deeper than the previous evening. 

 We put all our wet gear back on - bringing back unpleasant memories of Sunday caving trips in the Dales - and stepped from the relative comfort of the shed into driving wind and rain.  At the ford we loosened our rucksack straps, linked arms and with one pole apiece waded across slowly.  It was only knee deep but it was fast flowing and underfoot was quite uneven and loose.

After the ford - the track below Sgurr na Sgine











After some sock wringing, we followed the track until it ran out at the point where the burn coming off the south west corner of Sgurr na Sgine meets the Allt Coire Mhalagain.  And now we faced a more serious challenge.  This was in spate and too dangerous to cross at this point.  We  followed it uphill for about 500 feet, passing a dozen or more branches until eventually it was possibly to cross safely. 

Our nemesis - the uncrossable burn














We kept the height, contouring round the western slope of Sgurr na Sgine and rising up towards the bealach.  I was looking for a lochan and I was looking for a summit called Meallan Odhar.  Unfortunately, I was looking for both of them in the wrong place.  There is a lot of contour activity in that particular kilometre square on the 1:50000 and with the rain on my glasses and the wind, I was having trouble making sense of it.  The image of the topography in my head was nothing like what I was glimpsing periodically through the cloud and rain.  We were too high for Meallan Odhar and we had missed the lochan somehow.  I got a position from the GPS and set a compass bearing for the lochan.  The terrain still didn't make sense but our best shot was to believe the map and not my head. 

Christine was also having a bad time, being blown over by the wind.  In my urgency to get off this hill, I lost her twice in the space of a few minutes.  It brought to mind the line about losing both parents from The Importance of Being Ernest.   Following the bearing,  I'd lost some height (reluctantly) and when I looked round I could see her above me, but encased as I was in black goretex, she couldn't see me, even from 50 yards away.  Nor could she hear my shouts and whistles and I had lines from a King Crimson track playing in my head - "I talk to the Wind, My words are all carried away".  Cue flute and melotron.  It made a change from the theme to the A Team, which had been plaguing me since Glenfinnan.  

I walked back up the hill and shouted something like, "follow me", which must have got translated by the wind as "stay there".  Another compass check and I set off again towards this irritatingly illusive lochan.  I found a line of fence posts heading downhill and followed them to the lochan, perched right on the bealach.  Unfortunately this was precisely the direction I had just minutes before told Christine not to go, thinking it would lead into the wrong valley.  I looked behind me.  No-one was there.  I waited a few moments for her to come out of the mist.  Nothing.  I left my pack by the lochan and fuelled by panic induced adrenaline, ran back up the line of fence posts.  I found her sheltering behind a big rock.  I took her pack and shouted to follow the fence posts and stop at my rucksack.  I threw on her pack, pulled the straps tight and set off behind her.  It was a monster.  I was bent double against the wind and every gust threw me off balance. 

We reached the col and swapped rucksacks.  "You've got to burn this thing", I shouted but I don't think she heard me.    I pointed to the valley and threw myself down the slope with only one thought in mind - to get off the hill (this time checking I was being followed).  A couple of hundred feet down and the wind died away, the rain eased and the cloud lifted. Wiping my glasses I took another GPS reading and located us on the map.  We were dropping into the wrong valley.  And then the penny dropped and I understood what we should have been doing.  In fact the Book says, go up to the bealach and keep to the left of the lochan and contour towards a line of large stones.  Of course the Book was back in Sheffield.  The stones are actually a rough wall  with a track behind it.  The track leads to Meallan Odhar, which is at the end of a spur running NE from the bealach.  How obvious and simple it was now!

The Forcan Ridge from the bealach below Meallan Odhar


















We climbed back up to the wall, and followed the track to Meallan Odhar, from where we descended to a col separating the A87 and the Allt a Choire Chaoil.  On the way down we passed some lads who said they were going over the Forcan Ridge.  Had it been a sunny day, we had considered this as an option but in these conditions it seemed madness.  Later on I looked back and could just make out two of them on the ridge.  I wouldn't have been surprised to them clinging by their fingertips as the wind blew them out like flags.

Allt a Choire Chaoil

Our route down Allt a Choire Chaoil was largely trackless punctuated occasionally by some evidence that we were not the first to pass this way.  The rain had set in again and it took an age to cover 2.5 km to the point where we should have been able to cross the Allt Undalain and pick up the land rover track leading to the campsite at Shiel Bridge.  However, the gods weren't letting us off that lightly and no matter how long we stared at the problem, the water level didn't get any less than suicidal.  So we continued down the eastern side of the river, which was trackless, boggy and rough, periodically taunted by the sight of the land rover track.  We were starting to lose any sense of enjoyment today but pressed on with the promise of a warm, dry room booked at the Kintail Lodge Hotel.

We arrived in a very bedraggled state and I was slightly worried that when they saw us they might tell us they had lost the booking!  Instead, they were splendidly welcoming and helpful and showed us to the drying room.  A hot bath, hot meal and a few pints of Red Cuillin made the world a better place.  Outside it was still raining.

9 miles and 2,400 ft for the day. Total distance from Glenfinnan: 46 miles

Neither of us took many photos that day.

North to the Cape - Day 4: Barrisdale to a Potting Shed

This was going to be an easy day.  A stroll along the side of Loch Hourn to Kinloch Hourn, then a bit of a climb to camp below Sgurr na Sgine.  It would be 8 miles and leave us in a good place for the following day's crossing into Glen Shiel, with a possible detour onto the Saddle.  Well, without wishing to give away too much, it wasn't going to pan out quite like that.

We had a slow start and didn't get away from the bothy until 10am.  It was still windy and showery but on brief occasions we got to see our shadows.  The track out of Barrisdale was good.  So good in fact that we missed the right turn to KLH and ended up on the small promontory where the loch narrows.  Backtracking, we found a smaller path and set off on the first of a series of climbs, totalling 800 or 900 ft, which define the character of this stretch of the route.  Brook and Hinchcliffe descibe the path down the side of Loch Hourn as 'laborious' and this seems to have informed every other commentator on this stretch of the walk.

Looking west along Loch Hourn

The way the book splits the route puts this stretch at the end of a day and the expectation of a flat walk by the loch side might put a downer on the day when this isn't realised.  We were fresh, more of less, and I rather liked this section. We were also spurred on by the promise of a tea room in KLH, which we had learnt about from someone staying in the bothy.

The tea room didn't disappoint and after an hour (oh alright, an hour and a half), an extremely large and tasty corned beef sandwich and a huge pot of tea, we reluctantly set about the rest of the day's walk.  Now whether it was lightheadedness due to a real cup of tea or the crossing of the previous three bealachs or some other factor, I can't say but a degree of numptiness set in and it lasted for the next 24 hours.

The tea room at Kinloch Hourn















The first episode was in trying to find the way out of KLH.  A large sign clearly indicating the direction to Glen Elg was followed up by a number of closed gates into what looked like front gardens, a path along the beach to nowhere and a path higher up and parallel to the beach.  We could see where we needed to be - up by some pylons - but there was no obvious way to reach it.  So we set off up the side of a stream coming down the hillside, straight up the fall line, spurred on by the occassional evidence of others having passed this way, probably also lost!

It was steep and seemingly endless but eventually we reached the path and after a brief spell of immoderate language aimed towards people with locked gates, a sense of normality was restored.  It even started raining again and the wind got up a bit and we felt much better.

The track to Sgurr na Sgine

The intention had been to camp by Allt a Choire Reidh, between Buidhe Bheinn and Sgurr na Sgine, somewhere near where the ford is marked on the map.  On the one hand this was madness.  It's a horrible place to camp.  It's boggy and lumpy and windswept.  I guess in better weather it might look more inviting but it would still be a bad place to put a tent.  On the other hand, there is a useful garden shed there, which the Book describes as a shelter.  I must have read about this back in Sheffield but I wasn't carrying the Book.  I was carrying a book (which I never opened in the entire 7 days).  I just wasn't carrying the Book.  Anyway because I wasn't carrying the Book, I couldn't read that it wasn't intended as a place to sleep.  So armed with this ignorance, and after evicting a large number of spiders, we spent the night there listening to the increasingly heavier rain and wind.

The potting shed

For future reference, camp at KLH.  Whilst it is possible for two people to spend a moderately comfortable night in the potting shed, it is not intended for that and camping up there would be hopeless.

9.5 miles and 2,900 ft for the day.  37 miles from Glenfinnan.

North to the Cape - Day 3: Sourlies to Barrisdale

This was going to be a sea level to sea level day with a whopping great climb in the way but my main worry was crossing the River Carnach.  I'd read a few reports of desperate times fording this in flood - and it had rained most of the previous day.  The map appeared to show a bridge near Carnoch but the Book didn't mention one and neither had anything else I'd read.

We were packed up by 9:30 and strolled over to the bothy to have a look inside.  It's much smaller than the other two we'd visited so far - really quite intimate.

Sourlies Bothy

The tide was in and we scrambled over some rocks along the water's edge before taking an indistinct track over the headland.  On the far side was a large flat expanse of grassy meadow with the River Carnach defining its northern edge.  We aimed for the west end of what looked like a large sheep fold and crossed at a point where the river was slightly braided.  The previous day's rain had had no effect on water levels and it was only about 6" deep.  Phew!  However, a few hundred yards upstream, just before Carnoch, we found the bridge.  It's an exciting construction in need of some repair and a health and safety fan had planted a sign to warn of the danger in using it.  Getting on and off the southern end looked like it could be a problem in flood but it would probably still be a safer option than wading.  I'd use it.  In fact I did and I didn't die!

The wobbly bridge over the River Carnach.  It doesn't quite reach the far bank and you would want to cross one person at a time.

The valley which the Carnach flows down really is beautiful and varied.  We strolled along the river bank for a while, quite a long while actually, with Knoydart's Munroes either side of us - rugged, majestic, steep sided mountains rising up from sea level. 

The ruins of Carnoch from the bridge, Ben Aden in the background

Further upstream the track climbs through some trees and over rocks.  There are some deep plunge pools, which on a warmer day would have been hard to resist swimming in.  We stopped about 1pm for lunch on some sand banks, at the point on the map where a ruin is marked and one of the suggested camping sites in the Book.  On the OS map the path runs out around about here but on the ground there is a reasonably distinct  track which finally peters out a little before the river makes a sharp right turn into a gorge round the north side of Ben Aden.  This left us facing a headwall and our route was up and through this.  We took a line between the small waterfall on the left and the gorge on the right, which involved a bit of easy scrambling.  There was some evidence of others having passed this way.  At one point we thought the world was about to end when a Tornado jet fighter came screaming up the valley, 3 missiles on either wing and pulling a lot of Gs round the slopes of the mountain.  It would spoil the challenge to describe our route in detail and in any case I can't remember it now - it snaked about quite a lot to follow natural lines of weakness.  We were looking for the track from Loch Quoich which would take us down Gleann Unndalain to Barrisdale. In fact I had somehow managed to climb about 50' above it and it was only when I turned round to check Christine was ok that I noticed it below me.  It's a good path with fine views and it took us about an hour to climb the 800' up to the bealach, a southerly wind strengthening the higher we went.  Unlike the previous two bealachs we had crossed, which had long plateau sections, this was more like a narrow doorway between two worlds.  The one we were leaving was of a wide, open, glaciated valley with sweeping curves and a slow meandering river.  The world we were propelled into by the wind was narrow and claustrophobic, a deeply incised V shaped valley of straight lines and sharp angles.  We started the descent, initially keeping the stream on our right but crossing over after a short while.  It's pretty obvious when you're there. 

Looking down Gleann Unndalain

The track down Gleann Unndalain seems to go on a bit after a long day and the rain, which had held off all day, came back with a renewed fury.  

Barrisdale Bay from Gleann Unndalain

Eventually Barrisdale Bay came into view and it took us about two hours from the col to reach the settlement .  There is a bothy and a camping field - details at http://www.barrisdale.com/.  For reasons of conservation, camping elsewhere in the bay isn't allowed, which is fair enough. 

The bothy at Barrisdale

We decided to stay in the bothy.  There were some other walkers staying there who were using it as a base to tick off the local Munros.  I think we were in bed by 8pm or shortly after.  All this navigational stuff makes a chap sleepy.

We'd covered 9.5 miles and 2,200ft ascent that day and 28 miles from Glenfinnan.

North to the Cape - Glenfinnan to Strathcarron (Days 1 and 2)

This and the next few posts are an account of the first third of the North to the Cape route described in the book by Brooke and Hinchcliffe. We'd planned to cover stages 2 to 7 of the book, between Glenfinnan to Strathcarron, that is missing the first day along the side of Loch Eil from Fort William and cutting straight to the chase of a wilderness experience. It would be 65 to 70 miles through Knoydart and Glen Shiel, crossing 6 bealachs en route and would take us 6 days. It was the first week of July and we were me and Christine KIng. The weather forecast was heavy rain and high winds for the first four days.


I'd done quite a bit of background research on the web and read numerous accounts of dangerous river crossings, exposed traverses around gorges, tents torn by rampant deer and any amount of trackless wastes to navigate across. Let me start by saying that no near death experiences will be reported here. If you want that sort of excitement I can direct you to other blogs. No frogs were harmed during this walk.


Days 1 and 2: Glenfinnan to Sourlies


The train pulled out of Glenfinnan Station at 4:30pm and after 12 hours travelling it was good to finally get walking even if was only 3 miles up to the bothy. This was it, Glenfinnan to Strathcarron following the North to the Cape route - 70 miles in 6 days. After posing for a picture with the monument behind us we set off along the track under the viaduct and continuing up Glen Finnan. It's road walking to within a few hundred yards of Corry Hully Bothy.

Glenfinann and the leaning monument!














The bothy is run by the Glen Finnan estate and boasts electric lights, kettle and fan heater. There's an honesty box for the electric but you could run up a huge bill if you forgot to turn the heater off!

Corry Hully bothy

Thursday morning broke with low cloud and persistent rain but not the high winds that had been forecast (they came 2 days later). We left the bothy at 8:30 and followed the obvious and good track up the glen. As we neared the bealach, the path crossed the stream, then it crossed back again and repeated this a few more times until we neared the watershed between Streap and Sgurr Thuilm, which was marked by a gate but no fence.

Looking back down the track towards Corry Hully bothy

View towards the bealach.  The track has started to deteriorate by this stage

The Gate - which we of course shut behind us

It had taken us 1.5 hours from leaving Corry Hully. We dropped down into Gleann Cuirnean keeping to the west side of the stream. My copy of Scottish Hill Tracks from 1975 says to descend on the right bank (i.e. the opposite bank from us) but to do so looked madness from where we were. An account of a crossing from Glenfinnan to A Chuil bothy, which I'd found on the web before we set off, spoke of a hard descent with a narrow ledge round a gully and the author nearly landing in a waterfall.

The top of Gleann Cuirean, looking back towards the bealach

We experienced none of this and followed the obvious, albeit rather long track down the glen. The main danger to life was slipping on one of the many frogs which jumped out in front of us . Near the bottom of the glen, the track crossed the stream before bending leftwards to reach the bridge over the River Pean. Crossing the Allt Cuirnean wasn't necessary but did avoid a bit of rough going.

Flushed with confidence that we hadn't died on the first bealach, I turned right off the bridge and quickly realised the path had disappeared. Christine reminded me that we needed to head into the forest and after a brief bit of faffing, we went back the other way for about 200m to find a broken gate and track into the forest. The route is a bit boggy and we went right at the first junction, when a left would have been easier. Both ways lead to the main east-west forestry road, where a right turn takes you towards Glen Dessarry.


We'd decided that rather than dropped down to Strathan and walk up the north side of Glen Dessarry, we go up the glen through the forest and stop at A Chuil bothy for lunch. We caught glimpses of the wide open glen through the trees and the route on the northern side looked like it was a road as far as Upper Glen Dessarry. We nearly missed the bothy. I just happened to notice a building below us through the trees and when I back tracked a few feet saw a small cairn marking a track down to it.

A Chuil bothy, Glen Dessarry














A Chuil bothy is very commodious, with an entrance porch and two main rooms. We brewed up some soup and lit a fire to dry our wet clothes and socks It had been raining steadily since we left Corry Hully - that persistent, nagging, all pervasive rain that Scotland is good at. It got so cosy, we got in our sleeping bags and had a bit of siesta for an hour or maybe more, for it was 4:30 when we set off again. The original plan was to camp by the lochans on the bealach over to Sourlies. Looking at the map, Sourlies was only 5 miles away and the weather had cleared, so we set out with the feeling of going on a short evening stroll. The upper section of Glen Dessarry goes on and on (and on) and the route to the bealach is somewhat schizophrenic in a few places. We were starting to tire of expecting to see the wee lochans just over the next hump, when finally, there was the first one and very tranquil and pretty it looked in the evening light.

Lochan a Mhaim

The track round the southern edge of the lochans is mostly easy to follow but longer than it has any right to be.  When you eventually clear the second one and start to drop a little, it crosses to the north side of the Finiskaig River (a small cairn marks the spot) and then rises up steeply - and I mean really steeply. At the end of a long day this seems a nasty, mean-spirited little climb but it has to be done to avoid the gorge through which the river cascades. From the bottom, I was sure I'd seen a sign on the hillside with writing or an arrow on it but I didn't seem to pass it on the track over the bump, so perhaps I had been hallucinating. Anyway, the descent was pretty rapid with a good bridge over the river at the bottom and a bit of a stroll through the pastures to Sourlies.

Looking down onto Loch Nevis and Sourlies












There was a large D of E party camped by the river and smoke coming from the bothy, so we pitched our tents between the two.

Our tents at Sourlies

It was 9:30pm, 5 hours after leaving A Chuil, and the sun showed little sign of setting. We were camped by the loch, oyster catcher and plover poking about in the mud, there was no rain, only a few midges and we were 2 miles further on than we had planned. We'd covered 15 miles and more than 3500 ft of ascent and ticked off two of the four bealachs we had to cross between Glenfinnan and Shiel Bridge. It was time for some food and sleep.