A day of heavy rain and 100mph winds! (Photo: Sean Kelly)  



Looking back to Sgurr Mor. (Sean Kelly)
Retrospective of the marvellous twisting traverse from Luinne Bheinn to Meall Buidhe. (Sean Kelly)
A day of heavy rain and 100mph winds! (Sean Kelly)


Wanderings in remote Knoydart and other distant hills

By Sean Kelly


In late June, hoisting the bike on top of the RAV, I headed north, after encouraging reports from Scotland of unusually dry conditions. Alas, it was no surprise to encounter heavy rain and low dark ominous clouds scudding across Rannoch Moor and down to Glencoe.

 

The following day I headed off to capture Sgurr Mor in remote Glen Kingie. More rain spattered the windscreen as I parked up in Glen Dessarry, and this soon became torrential as I climbed over rapidly oozing peathags and vibrant streams, on my way up over the bealach between Druim a'Chuirn and Fraoch Bheinn, thinking about crossing the river in Glen Kingie. I had resolved to follow the stalkers path up the glen and eventually found some rocks that offered a suitable crossing point and access to an excellent track, much appreciated after the recent arduous terrain. After a few clicks, the track took a sharp turn uphill and climbed steeply to the bealach between An Eag and Sgurr Beag. The recent rain had relented, and the tops were beginning to clear as I crested the ridge that led initially to Sgurr Beag, and after a short descent, onwards to my goal of Sgurr Mor. I stopped for a brief photo but was disappointed at other tops still shrouded by clouds. It now occurred that the quickest descent was to carry on along the ridge to the next dip and steep grassy descent back to the river in Glen Kingie. As I carefully made my way down, I startled a young female Red Deer grazing on the appropriately named Deer Grass [Not so appropriately as it is both a Sedge and has little nutritional value to deer. Ed]. And so the river was crossed and the bealach reascended back to Glen Dessarry, now resplendent in warm evening sun.

The next peaks to traverse, involved travelling over to the other side of Knoydart, catching the Mallaig train at Fort William, and Bruce Watt’s Ferry service to cross over to Inverie. The lochs here have an almost Fiord like character being much more dramatic with cliffs reaching down to the loch side and little opportunity for any roads around the coast. Loch Nevis and Loch Hourn envelope Knoydart with deep arms adding to its remoteness. The Lomond glacial advance was responsible for scouring out these deep channels, principally because of the higher precipitation that the area receives from Westerlies blowing in from the moist Atlantic. Indeed the small settlement of Tarbet opposite Inverie claims the remotest pub in Britain. It was no accident that neighbouring Loch Hourn was the site for constructing the early Deep-sea Oil Platforms.

The sun was still shining brightly as I headed out next morning, on the long trek along an excellent path to Mam Barisdale. Without the intervention of Victorian engineer James Watt, and his two able assistants, there would be far fewer tracks in this area. A Golden Eagle soared above on a thermal, lazily climbing higher and higher until he almost vanished from sight. However, what really attracted my attention as I strolled beside the Loch an Dubh-Lochan was the beautiful display provided by number of Golden Ringed Dragonflies (Cordulegaster boltoni) that danced before me, as I walked beside the bracken and grasses. They are the largest species of Dragonfly in Britain, being something like 4 inches long! It was hot work gaining the Mam Barisdale Pass, but much refreshed by a quick sip of juice before turning uphill to attack the nearby twin summits of Luinne Bheinn. A small insignificant cairn marked the true summit but the lower top had a grand cairn. What followed was a marvellous undulating twisting traverse over ice scoured folded rocks to the neighbouring Munro of Meall Buidhe, and more grand views in many directions. Apparently, the Lomond ice-cap completely covered these peaks, but neighbouring Ladhar Bheinn poked out above the ice. The descent down the west ridge was very pleasant on mainly grass and gained the footbridge over the Allt Coire Meadail. The Druim bothy, marked as a ruin on my map is anything but, and provides 5 star accommodation.

 

Two days later, I was over in Glen Affric to renew acquaintance with these beautiful hills. The bike helped gain the stalker's path and easy progress over dry peat hags to the ridge that led to the first summit of the morning, Sgurr na Lapaich. There now followed, a wonderful ridge, leading all the way to the top of Mam Sodhail, and its unique summit cairn, which surprisingly turned out to be hollow! It was a major Triangulation feature of the OS 1840’s survey, as it had a more commanding view than Carn Eighe nearby. Further north in the Fisherfield Forrest, because of intransient landlords and fickle weather, the contours were sketched, rather than precisely mapped, with the consequence that the summit ridge of Beinn a’Chlaidheimh appeared as rounded terrain, when in truth, it is quite narrow. It also failed to establish its true Munro status, as no height is marked. This error was not corrected until 1974 when it achieved Munro status when rounded up to 914 mts. from the imperial units, and 1997 when in that year’s edition of Munro’s Tables its height was finally settled at 916 mts. and contours accurately mapped in the 2001 OS survey.

I now encountered the first walkers of the week, two lads who had trekked all the way over from Claunie. And so we continued on to the twin Munro of Carn Eighe and the highest mountain this side of the Great Glen. Now the way was clear to my first new Munro of the day, Bheinn Fhionnlaidh, but there was a deep descent, with height loss of nearly 1200 feet, that would have to be re-ascended on my return journey. The others declined when they noted this and so I continued alone once more on my merry way, which transpired to be much further than it looked. It had turned four by now, as I dragged my weary body and legs up to the top of Bheinn Fhionnlaidh, which revealed a grand vista of Loch Mulardoch far below, and views of countless other peaks stretching far to the north. Because of the low water level, an island not marked on the map had appeared in the middle of the loch.

I retraced my steps to Carn Eighe and after climbing about 600 feet noticed a shoulder that might help to save some energy by traversing back to the bealach. This was a mistake big time, as the wind was gusting strongly, and I found myself balancing precariously on large moving scree and shattered glacial rocks. Broken ankle territory, and my mobile back at the hostel! Eventually I crested the bealach and with relief followed the easy track up to Mam Sodhail's hollow cairn. Conditions by now had become quite unpleasant, with rainy squalls accompanied on the brisk wind, and with head bowed, I trudged on to distant Sgurr nan Lapaich surmounting various bumps along the way. The summit ridge of Mam Sodhail, I now noted, was liberally decorated with a cerise carpet of dwarf Moss Campion that obviously appreciated the good drainage afforded by the course gritty soil. I was later surprised to discover, it had a 5-foot taproot! The plant was probably the first to re-colonise the Highlands after the Lomond glacial retreat, as it is also located as far as 83° 9’ north in Peary Land, the northern tip of Greenland! I also noticed that there was none present on the neighbouring peaks to the north, the soil here being predominantly peaty and consequently lower in Calcium. The cold buffeting wind now became more troublesome, and rainsqualls were merging into continuous rain as I progressed along that long ridge, and small climb back to Sgurr nan Lapaich. I have often wondered why this fine peak has never been designated as a Munro with a separation of 3.5 kms from Mam Sodhail and re-ascent of 120mts. The height difference between Mam Sodhail and linking bealach to Carn Eighe being only 140mts. and the separation only a little over 1 km! However, these SMC people evidently know better? That would return the total back to 284.

As I descended its East Ridge, the path became more indistinct, but a possibility existed to descend to a good stalker’s path deep down in Glen Affric. I moved down the steep slope of mainly long grasses and came across a large male stag with magnificent antlers that initially glared at my intrusion on his dinner then quickly set off in the opposite direction to myself. The grass gave way to tuft, bracken and worse of all, rocks concealed beneath. A final climb over the deer-fence and I found myself on a newly renovated track which led to my bike hidden in the bracken. As I started to lift the bike onto the roof of the RAV, a young couple opposite in the car park offered to help. I declined their kind offer and produced a pair of steps from the back of the car boot to assist me in my task. I may look old and infirm but I’m not a pensioner yet!

On returning to the hostel in Glen Urquart and mobile reception, my phone revealed a download of messages from Harold, recently arrived from Manchester, and was now comfortably settled in front of a big Plasma screen in Drunadrochit, glued to the football and his pint. Another 10-mile drive did not appeal, so I passed on his kind offer of dinner, and settled for a camper’s ready meal out of a plastic bag. As I consumed this delightful concoction, I casually totted up the ascent climbed during the day and was amazed to see that it totalled in excess of 6700ft! I was quite pleased with a time of just over nine hours.

The next day saw the attainment of a longstanding objective, the Strathfarrar Four. Having had been refused entry twice in past years, but now clued-up with recent information from the MCofS website, we drove up to the locked gate a little before nine. The Gatekeeper’s wife duly emerged on time and issued all the cars, four of us, with out pink ticket-stubs to be completed and duly returned on our exit from the glen. As they say, we were counted in, and counted out! We had decided to take two cars to save the long walk back to the car at the end of the walk, although I had my bike handy if Harold had not arrived. Originally, a visitor to Strathfarrar had to leave the glen by 5pm in the summer months, but this had been recently revised to 8pm, so the walk could proceed at a more leisurely pace. Dismissing Cameron McNeish‘s advice, we located a good stalker’s track at the higher west end of the glen as our starting point. This excellent path led all the way up to the ridge, and although quite a close day, we made good progress, and soon caught two others going the same way. The MWIS had forecast strong winds gusting at over 60mph and so it indeed transpired, with a constant battle to keep our balance in the tricky conditions. The rest of the Highlands were cloud covered and rain sodden, but we remained luckily out of the worst of this weather, as we traversed this marvellous ridge of alternative summits, one after the other. The latter tops, strewn with many erratics and stones, had proved very troublesome in the gusty conditions. We kept leapfrogging the others lads, as they seemed to indulge in many snack-stops along the traverse. The biggest loss of height was reserved for the final Munro of the day, Sgurr na Ruaidhe, as tired legs climbed the final rocky slopes in the strongest winds yet encountered. Fortunately, a good grassy path, not marked on the OS map, followed the ridge gently down into Glen Strathfarrar and so back to Harold’s car, now conveniently parked nearby. We cheerfully waved to the other two lads, as they peddled furiously back uphill to regain their car.

 

On Sunday, the MWIS produced one of the worst forecasts I had ever seen for a Scottish summer, predicting heavy continuous rain, and wind speeds on the summits in excess of 100mph! More in hope, we drove to Glen Carron to tackle Lurg Mhor and its companion Munro, but soon dismissed this plan when the forecast proved remarkably correct. Accordingly, we motored on to Ullapool for lunch, and a browse in the Ceilidh Place bookshop. Leaving one car at the hostel at Dundonnell, we travelled around the beautiful coastline of this part of the Highlands, to Poolewe and Gairloch, with intermittent views of the distant peaks of the Letterewe Forrest poking through the gloom. The size of the homemade Plum pies, and the luxury soft leather sofas in the Conservatory coffee shop helped to dispel ours. Later, as the sun appeared fleetingly, we looked in on Inverewe Gardens, a little patch of colour and semi-tropical paradise in this bleak barren corner of the Highlands. It transpired that they were soon closing, so I delightfully admired the planting of a large field with countless thousands of Lupins, all in glorious colourful flower swaying gently in the wind. As we journeyed around the coast, we encountered obvious evidence of a past military presence, with the bases of former gun emplacements dotted along this part of the coastline. A plaque explained that this had indeed been the site for refuelling the Artic Convoys on their way to distant Russia, and although there were many guns around the bay, only one German plane ever attacked the naval base.

We were now thinking of walking into Shenavall to tick off the four remaining Munros of the Fisherfield group, and hoping that tomorrow the weather might moderate to allow us to succeed. Heavy overnight rain however, now created further problems as the rivers had swollen alarmingly, rendering the crossings of the Abhainn Strath na Sealga and the Abhain Gleann na Muice to access the first Munro, difficult, if not impossible. Added to this dismal outlook, I was shocked when Harold announced that he was heading back south. I knew he did not fancy the accommodation at Shenavall as he was used to five star luxury wherever he goes. My own ambitions were now thwarted by the onset of a viral infection, which exacerbated my Asthma, and I too reluctantly turned for home. At least, unlike Harold, I had had a week of outings, bagging eight Munros and exploring some exciting corners of the Western Highlands. All had been remote peaks. I especially enjoyed my visit to Inverie in wild Knoydart. The train and boat journey were memorable, as was the hospitality at the Hostel provided by Izzy, my frequent visits to the Pottery Tearooms, again with luxury leather sofas, and small-attached bookshop. Not to miss is the seafood, including native Lobster, and local Real-ale served at the Old Forge pub. The Knoydart Foundation has available for hire the best Bunkhouse I have seen, located near the bridge in Mam Meadail, complete with equipped kitchen, bunks, a large fireplace complete with a supply of logs, and lighting from oil-lamps. All this, and panoramic windows looking out to the hills and Lord Brockett’s despised monument. I will be back! Well I still have 14 Munros to tick.

 

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