South American footsteps: 11 April - Duchally Lodge to Inchnadamph via Ben More Assynt

Day 4: 11 April 2011

Duchally Lodge to Inchnadamph (and on to Lochinver via thumb)

(12 miles 8 hours walking)

Well I woke up to the sound of rain and that awful wet head you get when the tent is really damp on the inside (and too small). It had rained overnight and was raining when I de-camped in the morning. To make matters worse, I found that my Coleman single-skin tent did indeed not let condensation out so the inside of the tent was quite wet and my sleeping bag was damp. Not ideal. But thank goodness for Andrew's lightweight tarpaulin, which had protected everything from the worst of the rain.

I quickly de-camped, cooked up some porridge (which was gorgeous by the way) and started walking at 7.30 a.m. I had survived the night (my first one all alone in a tent ever I think!) and was quite proud of myself.

This photo shows the view looking back to the SE down Glen Cassley. My campsite was just to the right of the centre of the photo.

The next few hours were purely up-hill. I went over a MASSIVE pipeline which I think had oil inside it. Certainly the pipe diameter was about 2 metres and it traversed the mountain-side like a motorway. An amazing feat of engineering to be sure.

The countryside was beautiful on an epic scale. The weather was wet and misty so photos will not do the scenery justice. This is a view of Ben More Assynt and Conival from the east side.

Shortly after crossing the pipeline my path petered out (where does that phrase come from by the way?) and I took a compass bearing to intercept the ridge path I hoped would exist and take me to the summit of Ben More Assynt.

After several hours of tramping uphill, just following my idea of what was ‘Up’ (and keeping just below the steepest snow-line on the ridge) I finally reached the summit of Ben More Assynt. On the way the weather did its best to deter me. I experienced rain, snow, hail, gales and low cloud which completely obscured my view of the summit. Occasionally the cloud shifted a bit so I got a slightly different view of the 100 meters above me, but generally speaking I went by map, compass and gut instinct.

At about 11.00 I reached the top of Ben More Assynt - wearing dad's hat and Andrew's buff (as well as my other clothes of course).

I was feeling rather smug because I had reached the summit despite snow, hail, gales, rain, 45 degree slope, bog, fog, ice, and a heavy pack. Yes I was rather proud of myself. I rang my husband to tell him of my achievement, and to confirm that I was alive after 24 hours’ without phone reception. It was at this point (I realised several days later) that I knew I was going to make it all the way to Fort William.

Pride comes before a fall; so I went the wrong way off Conival and had a nightmare finding my way back on track. I had one of those real nightmare moments when I realised what a cock-up I had made. I had ziz-zagged off Conival and mis-identified Dubh Loch Beag as Dubh Loch

Mor.

It was only as I came out of the cloud and saw clearly that the lake I was heading for had a small round island instead of a small oval island, that I realised I was about 1 mile off track. This might not seem like a long distance, but when the terrain is purely wet, bumpy, treacherous bog, and you are already exhausted, the extra distance back on track seemed heart-breaking. I had two choices; I could forget about Inchnadamph altogether and head straight south towards Oykel Bridge, or I could back-track and try to get to my intended goal of Inchnadamph. With a wet tent and sleeping bag, and the lure of a hot meal in the hotel at Inchnadamph, this was no choice at all. (The third choice, of just stopping and giving up, was no real choice either, although it did enter my mind for a fleeting moment). I back-tracked with a heavy pack and heavier heart.

I was absolutely knackered by the time I got to Inchnadamph - and to bang the last nail in the coffin everything was shut. The hotel was shut, the hostel was shut, there was no phone reception and even the phone box didn’t work.

I looked half-heartedly for a camp-site and there was a realistic bit of land which even had a picnic table; however it was bleak, squishy, and had driving rain blowing through it. The only bonus about Inchnadamph was there was a road passing through it WITH LOTS OF CARS. I decided (not liking sleeping in damp coffins) to hitch-hike ANYWHERE. Kylescu was my plan. However I was immediately picked up by Dutch Ed and his Northern-Irish girlfriend Maureen, who whisked me away to Lochinver to their B & B (“The Rose”). There I hung up and dried my damp clothes, tent, sleeping bag etc, fillling up two entire washing lines, and went to the local pub called “The Caberfeidh” where I had a lovely meal of smoked haddock and chips. The weather at Lochinver was stunningly clear, sunny and windy; perfect drying weather in fact. Ed had an airing cupboard where I dried out my soggy boots, and I had no blisters. I had amazing views of The Suilven from the B & B and I started to feel that things were looking up. I had survived a challenging and difficult day, and was reminded thatt flexibility was the key to coping when adverse circumstances arise.