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. 

The view of 'The Suilven' from the window of 'The Rose' in Lochinver

This is my opinion of Inchnadamph according to my jourrnal entry for that night. I hoped never to go there again. (But this was only temporary!!!)

 

12 April - Inchnadamph to Oykel Bridge Hotel

Day 5:      12 April 2011

Inchnadamph to Oykel Bridge Hotel

(18 miles          8 hours walking)

So I woke up about 15 miles further NW than I had intended finding myself (on this trip) to a clear, windy day that promised sunshine and showers.

The view from my room at "The Rose" B & B in Lochinver - The Suilven obscured by low cloud

My immediate aim (after a lovely breakfast) was to hitch-hike back to Inchnadamph and continue my trip onwards to Oykel Bridge. The unpleasant aspect to this plan was that it involved revisiting – in an up close and personal way – the site of my previous discomfort and rubbish navigation of the previous afternoon. Nevertheless it had to be done and I was swiftly picked up by 2 walking chaps and taken back to Inchnadapmh. [The chaps slightly disconcerted me by mentioning that there were mice in the bothies. Thanks guys…]

I managed to negotiate the valley to Bealach Trallgil much more successfully than on the previous day, and then followed a compass bearing of approximately 120 º to the path that runs south along the west side of the River Oykel. My previous acquaintance with Dubh Loch Mor (of the oval-shaped island!) definitely helped!

From there it was just a question of following the Oykel River south through Benmore Forest (another forest with no trees) to Benmore Lodge on the shores of Loch Ailsh.

During this part of the journey there were many showers and throughout the course of the day I must have put on and taken my waterproofs off about 15 times. Near Loch Ailsh there was an immense hail storm with pellets the size of bullets raining down on me. I turned my back to the wind, put my hat on, and let my pack take the brunt of it!

The forestry section south of Glen Ailsh was fairly dull although the tracks were wide and the navigation was easy. In fact, the tracks were being made by huge forestry vehicles as I walked that day, and some of the tarmac was still soft. The only dilemma involved getting from the upper path to the lower path by the River Oykel, and I followed a clear-cut through the trees towards the southern end of the forest.

The ancient sheep enclosure

The path through the clear-cut was wet and hummocky, as the photo shows, but took me down to the river path via a beautiful ancient stone sheep enclosure. This was marked on my 1:25000 map as a circle with a line attached to it :



I arrived at the River Oykel path by a post marked ‘25’. This might give walkers who are going from the south to the north some indication of a good place to alter course from the river track to the forest path.

Shortly after I took this photo I forced myself to stop, ‘brew up’, soak my feet in a stream and air my socks. It was a lovely afternoon by the River Oykel and there were loads of birds including dippers around. I also thought I saw a kingfisher. The water was very brown so I boiled it properly (for a change) but when I got to Oykel Bridge hotel and had a bath, the tapwater was browner than the river water, so after that I wasn’t that worried about the colour.

On most days I have persuaded myself, much against my natural instinct which is to keep going, to stop and drink something, mainly to force myself to have a rest. Coffee and hot chocolate by a stream - what could be better! Simple pleasures really come into their own on a trip like this.




On arriving at Oykel Bridge Hotel I found the place completely deserted and the doors closed. There was no response to my knocking. I tried phoning the hotel but had no phone reception (again). As the sky turned black (again) I got desparate and ‘broke in’ through the drying room. I found two ladies dressed as old-fashioned maids (only they were real maids) in the kitchen, so all was well.

Key points about Oykel Bridge Hotel:

1. This is a very old-fashioned fishing hotel
2. I am in Room 13 again
3. There is no T.V. in any rooms (although I found a residents lounges with a T.V. and nobody else seemed to know it existed - so i claimed it for my own)
4. It is a very posh hotel. I had headed notepaper in my room and wouldn’t have been surprised to meet royalty here
5. There is no internet
6. There is barely any phone reception – I was shown the one place adjacent to the car park where you could get a phone signal
7. I washed my socks and made good use of their excellent drying room
8. There was hardly anyone else staying there
9. The food was fabulous

There were (actually) 4 men staying here, all dressed as Toad of Toad Hall with flat caps, ties (with mysterious mason-like insignias), camouflage fishing jackets, corduery lederhosen, woolly socks up to their knees, fishing spats, and a copy of the daily telegraph about their person. I had a strange conversation with one of them about issues affecting fishermen these days. He said there was a shortage of salmon due to over-fishing etc and you have to use single-hooks these days when fishing for salmon, instead of double or triple-hooks. He told me with some compassion that salmon were prone to stress and you have to “catch them gently” and “allow them to recover after you remove the hook before you expect them to swim away”!!!!! What a loony!! How can you catch a fish gently?! It has to be one of the most aggressive acts imaginable!

So that was my experience at the Oykel Bridge Hotel. It is a great place; sort of U2 (Telegraph Road) meets Hamish Macbeth (if you ken what I mean)

 

13 April - Oykel Bridge Hotel to Knockdamph Bothy

Day 6:      13 April 2011

Oykel Bridge Hotel to Knockdamph Bothy

(9    miles         5 hours walking)

I got up at about 6.30 and had a fabulous breakfast of porridge, kippers and toast, all in the company of Lords. I would recommend this hotel to anyone. (But not if you want phone, T.V. internet, facebook....)

Then I went to my private television lounge and watched an episode of Star Trek (Deep space 9) while the Eton boys read the Daily Telegraph. It was a very peaceful start to the day. Everyone else was going fishing and wearing knee-length pantaloons and socks, with ties with strange insignias a la mason. The whole place was very strange and I felt right out of place in my trekking garb.

I left Oykel Bridge Hotel in drizzle but the weather forecast said the weather would get better from tomorrow.

Once again I met no walkers all day and had no phone reception whatsoever.

I walked through the Einig Wood, a traditional Scots Pine Wood, for a few miles before coming into the open.

I was surprised to come across loads of potatoes which had been dumped on the track. Sadly I had left my peeler at home. Anyway a farmer told me later- the only person I saw all day - that they are for the deer.

While I was still pondering the potato mystery I arrived at the Schoolhouse Bothy. This is a really tidy little bothy and I stopped here to have a ‘cap-a-pasta’.

There are no fireplaces but it is described as "surprisingly warm" in the Bothy book.

 

 

 

I really enjoyed the message I read in the Bothy book. It could only have been written by Germans and I wondered if they were ‘taking the mick’. It wouldn't have surprised me to read "Don't mention the war" (in the style of Monty Python) somewhere in the book

Very close to the schoolhouse Bothy – which was a functioning school until the 1960’s (with a dormitory for the children who lived so far from home) – I met a ‘kind’ farmer who gave me some ‘seasoned’ wood to take with me to Knockdamph Bothy. I carried about 8 kg of wood for a further 4 miles to the Bothy, and only later realised the wood was quite green and completely useless. Thanks Mr Farmer. (But hey what a muppet I am not to know better...)

After another hour I came to a crossing described as a ‘Ford’ (on the map) near the junction of Rappach Water and Abhainn Poiblidh. The water here was so deep I was required to don my rubble sacks and string in order to cross a fairly quick-flowing stream. There was nobody around to take a photo unfortunately. But I thanked my husband whose idea it was to carry the sturdy rubble sacks. They were used on several occasions.

Then I staggered on to Knockdamph Bothy, with the logs getting heavier by the minute.

The night in Knockdamph Bothy was, for several reasons, the worst night on the trip.

It was very quiet and it felt colder inside than outside.

It really felt like the middle of nowhere, and I have never felt more solitary. It was quite an experience. I was out of phone reception and apart from the farmers I didn't see anyone for 36 hours.

I tried for ages to light a fire in one of the two downstairs rooms - I used hexamine blocks, meths, cotton wool, newspaper, twigs, dried peat, prayer, you name it. After 2 hours I had filled the room with smoke and it was so cold I could still see my breath. Not my idea of a good time, although it took my mind off the fact that it was a really remote place, there was no phone reception, and I was all on my own. As time went on it became more and more apparent that nobody else was going to turn up and relieve the loneliness, and I tried to read a book.
Supper was fish and dried pasta. Lovely. It cheered me up for about 5 minutes.There was an upstairs bedroom in the bothy with two ancient wooden beds and massive mattresses. It looked relatively comfortable but I couldn’t help wondering what other wildlife was inside the mattresses and the thought of sharing my sleep with spiders and other nameless beasties didn’t tempt me at all.

I had some fantasy that I would be able to heat up the downstairs room and make it ‘cosy’ but all it became was smoky, dark and cold.
The experience certainly made me realise that I don't really dislike company as much as I think I do.
I tried playing my tin whistle for a while - the acoustics were good and it sounded better than normal - and went to bed at about 9 p.m. not expecting to sleep at all.

I wrote a poem a few days later, inspired by my experience and thoughts at Knockdamph Bothy. It is another place, along with Inchnadamph, that I shall have to revisit in order to banish the ghosts from my memory

Surprisingly I slept well, and woke at 5 a.m. with a sense of relief that I had survived the night. I left before it was properly light. It still felt warmer outside than inside the bothy!

14 April - Knockdamph Bothy to Ullapool

Day 7: 14 April 2011

Knockdamph Bothy to Ullapool (B & B))

(12 miles          5.5 hours walking)

Surprisingly I slept well, and woke at 5 a.m. with a huge sense of relief that I had survived the night. I ate porridge, put in my Vision Express Daily Disposable contact lenses (ideal for camping), and left at 6.45 a.m. before it was properly light. It still felt warmer outside than inside the bothy! It was very quiet, misty and damp as I walked WSW along the valley with Loch an Damph to my left. I was happy to be on the move and away from the bothy. I felt as if I had survived a real personal challenge and learnt something important about myself.

(I'm still trying to figure out what it was...)

I took this photo using the timer on my camera, and attached my camera to one of my walking poles.

As I came downhill the track turned WNW and the countryside started to look more agricultural, with fences, gates, sheep and even outbuildings appearing. Still no people though.

I followed the Rhidorroch river west to Loch Achall where there was an amazing orange boathouse. I am still kicking myself that I didn’t photograph it, as the ornate carpentry and choice of colour was something I am unlikely ever to see again.

However I did photograph this fabulous old alder, whose warped and twisted nature reflected some of my thoughts of the previous night. I spent a lot of time on this day thinking about space, loneliness, freedom and choices. Even ocnophils and philobats – and only the psychodynamic counsellors among you will know what they are!

About 2 miles from Ullapool I saw my first human people – a nice couple doing a 4 mile loop from Ullapool - for about 30 hours, and it was really great to realise that I had not wandered into an empty land and lost humanity. 

I rather pathetically insisted that they take a photo of me – it made me feel more alive to know other people could see me. And if that isn’t daft I don’t know what is!

Shortly afterwards I began the descent into Ullapool and got my first glimpse of Loch Broom, the open ocean and Ullapool itself. It was lovely to see the sea.

Just after my first glimpse of so-called “civilisation” I was randomly and unexpectedly ‘herded’ by a doberman puppy called Lucy. I tried to tell her that I was not a sheep but she insisted on circling me excitedly and trying to ‘round me up’. It was a funny but rather pointless exercise (from my point of view anyway). Lucy seemed to enjoy it though, and her rather embarrassed owner told me that she hadn’t been out for a few days and was a bit over-excited.

I finally got mobile phone reception about 200 metres from the first house in Ullapool. I jest not. Talk about localised! I texted Andrew to tell him I was alive and sent a picture to my blog.I had been trying (and failing) to send a message every 20 minutes for the last few hours which was quite frustrating. Perhaps I will check out which network is best more carefully next time (I have O2).

On arriving in Ullapool my first port of call was to check out where the B & B was. I found the ‘Eilean Donan’ easily but it was only 12.15 and much too early to check in.

I looked around town a bit and found the tourist information office, where the lovelt staff allowed me to leave my rucksack for a few hours. So I bought some postcards, checked out the excellent outdoors shops in Ullapool and eventually decide to reward myself with a visit to the pub recommended by my step-mother Mary – “The Seaforth”.

So I went there and bought a pint of cider and some crisps. They were great. Shortly after I arrived a bus-load of tourists arrived and I had the comical and rather surreal experience of being surrounded by brummies who were all queuing for food at the bar. Most bizarre. And as for the accent! (I love it really)

I thoroughly enjoyed my drink and then went to ‘The Eilean Donan’ at about 3.30.

My B & B had T.V. in my room and my food parcel was there waiting for me. I had a day off tomorrow and no blisters. What could be better? What could possibly go wrong?

I had not a care in world.

This is a picture of my food parcel in Ullapool, sent to my blog via my mobile phone. So Royal Mail works. The anticlimax about receiving the parcel was that I knew exactly what it contained, and it was hard to get excited about the same dried food I had been eating for the past week!

Still – it was good to look at the next map and to think about the next stage in the journey with increasing confidence about the whole adventure.

So there I was in Ullapool on a sunny day.
So far, in 6 days' walking, I had spent 4 days without seeing a single other walker. Today, I saw 4 people (all within 2 miles of Ullapool) and on 10th April (the day of Ben More Assynt) I saw 4 people (again near the car park). This part of the world really is very remote.

I got online today and looked at my blog. It was lovely to see that my photos had actually been uploaded and to read comments from people; thanks to family, friends, Aaron and Sam for doing their sun dances and thinking of me.

15 April - Ullapool (Day of rest)

I planned one day off in my trip and this is it, in the pretty, lively town of Ullapool.

It has a bustling harbour and ferry terminal, about 8 pubs, several cafes and restaurants, a Tescos, and several other useful shops. Ullapool is just the right size to spend a day in and even has a museum to explore on a rainy day.

However even in such a hub of civilisation, getting internet access wasn't easy.
I went to the library, where I had 30 minutes free access, and wrote an account for my blog in a bookshop, where it cost £1 for 15 minutes’ internet access.
I couldn't download photos from my camera so just wrote some text. Most of the photos have been added since I get home.

I had a nice evening in Ullapool last night. I got here early, checked out the town, and had a well-deserved pint. Then I rested up at the B & B, had a shower and got rid of my smoky smell from the bothy (smoke really lingers!!), and went out on the town. There was a local group of celtic folk musicians in one of the pubs, so I went there for a while. It turned out they were originally from Newbury/Basingstoke way of course...


I must say that I haven't actually met anyone doing the Cape Wrath Trail yet. There are a few around - you see their names in the bothy logbooks- but so far I haven't seen one. So I have had a lot of time and space to ponder being on my own and what that means to me. After my slightly awesome (not awful) experience at Knockdamph Bothy, I came up with this poem. I will refine it later; this is the raw version.

The paradox

I am a paradox

To seek out this remote wilderness

To plan an adventure with meticulous detail

To search for the quietest, emptiest place I could reach

To find complete solitude at Knockdamph Bothy

And then...

To be childishly disappointed when no-one else turned up

To feel so alone, crushed by the emptiness stretching for miles in all directions

To have complete freedom and absolutely no choice.

That is the paradox.

(I wrote this after a night at Knockdamph Bothy)

Freedom does not always come with choices.
I think it often comes down to basic survival when you do an adventure like this, and the choice gets taken away. For example, when I got so lost and went off-track at Conival, I did theoretically have a choice; I could have carried on towards Oykel Bridge and ignored Inchnadamph completely. But that would have meant another night camping with a tent (and sleeping bag) that was already wet. I was pretty exhausted and my knee was hurting. The other choice was to just give up but I couldn't just stop in the middle of the bog. So it came down to the lower levels of Maslow's triangle - warmth, shelter, food. There was no choice; I had to go to Inchnadamph and ultimately I had to get help (i.e. hitch-hike to a place where I could dry my kit) in order to survive.

Later on today I found out there was a ‘Mountain Marathon’ starting from Ullapool tomorrow, and lots of people were registering in the village hall. The mountain marathon consisted of 2 days orienteering between checkpoints in the mountains, and over-nighting at a site where a Ceili was going to be held. I was extremely impressed with this plan, and have resolved to look out for this event next year as it combines my 2 favourite activities and that is saying something. If only Ullapool wasn’t so far away form Salisbury!
There was a sale of outdoor equipment in the village hall, which gave me the opportunity to buy a Haglofs T-shirt (reduced from £38 to £30 but still expensive) to replace my blue mountain equipment T-shirt which had gone all frayed and pobbly.

I had an early night and was, as usual, extremely disappointed and even bored by everything available to watch on the television in my room.

16 April - Ullapool to Shenavall Bothy

Day 9:      16 April 2011

Ullapool to Shenavall Bothy

(10.2 miles      6 and a half hours walking)

I left Ullapool at 08.15 feeling well-fed and rested. I had already decided NOT to walk the 6 mile stretch along the main road to Inverlael, so I tried hitch-hiking with initial optimism. My previous experience of hitching in the Highlands had led me to believe that I would get picked up by my first car, so I was quite dismayed to have to wait about 15 minutes, and to walk about 1 mile out of town (!!!) before I got picked up.

However I was at Inverlael putting my gaiters on at 09.00, and was very glad I had decided not to walk the long, dull and dangerous stretch along the A 835 along the edge of Loch Broom. This is not a very pretty road and has many tourist buses and lorries driving along it at speed. Unless you are a real CWT purist, I heartily recommend you find an alternative to walking to get from Ullapool to Inverlael.

The first part of the walk was quite tricky and badly sign-posted. I headed approximately west from Inverlael towards Carn nan Caorach but had to navigate a steep section of hillside where fallen trees and boggy ground made the path almost impossible to follow. There was a definite “get off my land” feeling and clear signs of new fences and a recent change of land usage.

As I got higher up the route became clearer but it was very boggy and hard-going all day.

Naismith is very clever and all that but his rule doesn’t account for constantly having to watch your footing. You just can’t hurry anywhere, especially with a heavy pack, and the knowledge that your phone won’t work if you do fall and hurt yourself.

According to Naismith this walk involved a height gain of 887 m and a height loss of 795 m; it should therefore have taken me 4 hrs and 46 minutes to walk the 10.2 mile distance. It actually took me 6 hours and 30 minutes (with a half hour stop for lunch and several other stops to chat to other walkers – see later!) to get from Inverlael to Shenavall Bothy. My average speed across the ground was less than 2 mph.

This photograph shows the paths route across the ground. Despite the relative lack of recent rain, it was not easy to keep my feet dry!

The countryside felt very primitive between Inverlael and Corrie Hallie; it had a “Valley that time forgot” feel about it and I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a dinosaur or two.

There was no phone reception at all.

The weather was overcast and windy today, but I got some lovely views. The clarity of the air was really fabulous.

The path was fine until I started to descend to Corrie Hallie, when the path became steep, boggy and indistinct. Eventually I lost the path and found myself zig-zagging downhill to the back of Dundonnell House.

I had hoped that there might be a café at The Art Gallery at Corrie Hallie (marked with a large blue start on my map!) where I could get a tea or coffee. Even chocolate. But there was nothing. There weren’t even any people. Again. Very disappointing.

After Corrie Hallie I started to climb back up from the A382 towards some really epic mountains (e.g. An Teallach 1060 m). As I ascended along an excellent track following Allt Gleann Chaorachain, I met two other walkers doing the Cape Wrath Trail. I was very excited as these two Belgians were the first people I had met doing the CWT since I started. Their names are Dave and Soo and they have been in touch with me since I finished the walk and have asked to see my final trip report. So I had to put their photo in. We had a brief chat about gear etc as you do when you meet other walkers. They were going the ‘right’ way from south to north and seemed very jolly.

Ben and Soo told me that I would meet may other walkers in the mountains that day as the Mountain Marathon from Ullapool was in the area. Between 1 p.m. and 5 pm. I met about 40 walkers, in groups of 1, 2 or 3, all looking very hot but lightly burdened compared to me. I asked one of the competitors (who didn’t seem to be trying to win) to take a photo of me just before the descent to Shenavall Bothy. In the background you can glimpse Loch ne Sealga and Beinn Dearg Mor (one of the “Five Sisters”). The age of the competitors ranged from about 20 to about 70 years old. I was very impressed to see two veteran ladies who appeared to be in their 70’s walking in the mountains that day.

I had a funny conversation with one of the mountain marathon competitors today.

Me: (trying to be funny) “I’ve been getting the feeling I’m going in the wrong direction all day” (after passing about 40 people heading NE as I head SW)

Competitor: “Yes, I don’t suppose you’re getting that wilderness experience you were looking for”

Me: “Yes there are rather a lot of people around” (thinking to myself: “Wilderness, Schmilderness. There’s only so much wilderness a girl can take”)

When I got to Shenavall Bothy at 3.30 p.m. I spent some time talking to one of the race marshals and his dog, who were stationed there for the afternoon. He finally left at about 4.45 p.m. and I checked out the bothy. It was much smaller than Knockdamph Bothy and had a completely different feel to it. There were several much smaller rooms on the ground floor, and clear signs that at least three other people were there. Apart from the usual smelly socks, sleeping bags, food and cooking gear, there was a bottle of port and a bottle of brandy there. There was also a large pile of dry firewood already in the porch, and I got my hopes up that there might be good company and a convivial night ahead.

It turned out that there were six of us there altogether. There were 3 other women who were doing some major peak-bagging (“The 5 sisters”?) and training for a big challenge. One of them was doing a new challenge she had created for herself called “ukbig3challenge”.

There were also two men who arrived quite late and cooked up the most amazing feast:

Main: pasta, fresh broccoli, pesto, herbs.

Dessert: warm bread, baked camembert (shared)

Drinks: wine, port, brandy (not passed around unfortunately)

The cooking of baked camembert required a good fire. I lit this quite early myself but managed, as usual, to make more smoke than heat, and to choose the wrong kind of wood to try to burn. The only wood available was old seasoned alder from by the stream, and bits of gorse – neither of which wanted to light for me. One of the women looked at my efforts with the fire and rather kindly said “there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen in this room”. Then one of the men came in and looked at my effort with pity. He put most of the wood on top and created an inferno within minutes. One of the girls had brought some coal (!!!) with her and we burnt that too. I wish I had taken a photo.

Then there was a long conversation about mountains I had never heard of, races I had never entered, scree slopes I had never slid down, and munros I had never bagged. I felt rather left out of the conversation and lonelier than if I had been by my solitary self. I went to bed before the others (at about 11 p.m.) and was kept awake quite late by revelry. The two men got quite tipsy and slept in the main room by the fire, making it rather awkward to get up and cook my own food in the morning.

I still have my reservations about bothies…..

17 april 3.30 p m

A pint of westons in a friendly spot. Deserved after 8 hours walking and not enough sleep. My knee hurts and i am hoping the cider will help.

17 April - Shenavall Bothy to Kinlochewe

Shenavall Bothy to Kinlochlewe Bunkhouse

(16 miles         8 and a quarter hours walking)

I woke up at about 5.45 a.m. It was very dark. But I figured that by the time I had cooked breakfast (yummy porridge and coffee again), packed my kit and washed up, it would be light. I was keen to be on the road and away. So I negotiated the sleeping bodies, checked I had all my kit and nobody else’s (there was quite a medley of socks, waterproofs and other clothing adorning the bothy), and left Shenavall bothy at 6.45. There were plenty of deer very close to the bothy, seeming much more at home in that remote place than anything of human flesh construction.

I followed a fairly clear track SW along the north side of Abhainn Strath na Sealga for about 3 km, passing a few lovely, remote old stone buildings and bothies. It gradually got lighter as I walked and turned out to be a fabulous clear day. Then the path turned south and headed towards Loch an Nid. This photo is taken about 1 km north of Loch an Nid, and (in the distance) shows the waterfall which is at the northern entrance to this remote and beautiful Loch.

On the shore of Loch an Nid I spoke to my second CWT trekker. He was from Yorkshire and was doing the route in weekly sections, whenever he could get the time off work. I caught him just getting out of his tent, and rather envied him his beautiful campsite which I would heartily recommend to anyone.

I then proceeded south for another kilometre to a ruin labelled Ruighabhraghad on my map. Until this point the path/track had been fairly easy to follow; however from this point onwards I had some difficulties.

I followed the main stream into Loch an Nid – Allt Cul Doireachan – as it headed south and then SW with little difficulty, and found a useful pair of cairns to mark the spot when I had completed the ascent to Bealach na Croise. I then tried to follow a compass bearing (SW) to find Loch Meallan an Fhudair, which looked like a very useful landmark. However the ground was boggy, uneven and full of ridges of black peat, so this turned out to be a very difficult traverse. My tendency when traversing along a compass bearing is to go too high, and so ended up heading too far north. I found myself at a rather beautiful waterfall, which was (fortunately) marked on my 1:25,000 map. Not for the first time, I was very glad I had brought large scale maps as I have no GPS and was relying solely on map, compass and my navigational skills. The rock outcrop called Sithean Biorach is a very useful landmark, and next time I do this route I will remember to head just to the right of this unusual-shaped hill from the Bealach.

The picture below shows me with Sithean Biorach and Loch Meallan an Fhudair in the background. I was very happy to be un-lost as I had found the ground very hard to ‘read’ from the map on this day and realised I needed to practice my navigation skills. If a fog had come down…..

From the waterfall I followed a fresh compass bearing (with much more south in it) and eventually found Loch Meallan an Fhudair. I went round the south side of the loch and followed the stream down to the junction of Lochan Fada and Loch an Sgeireach.

This photo shows Lochan Fada with Slioch (980 m) in the background.

From Lochan Fada onwards the route was relatively easy to follow, but it was a long way to Kinlochewe.

I took the eastern side of Kinlochewe Forest (with very few trees again) and followed the Abhainn Gleann na Muice in an approximately south direction. I entered the Letterewe Estate, where there were young trees (rowan, alder, Caledonian Pine, willow and aspen amongst others) fenced off to protect them from deer.

This path involved a long and quite laborious descent and I had some pain in my right knee, which has been ‘dodgy’ for years, but really doesn’t like long descents.

After heading South for about 7km I arrived at the Heights of Kinlochewe, where there were some sheepfolds and a house called “Heights of Kinlochewe”. I really meant to find out why this house was called thus and what its significance was, as it is now quite empty and run-down. One life is not enough.

After the Heights of Kinlochewe the path turned SW and I followed the Abhainn Bruachaig to Kinlochewe. On the way I met two other walkers who were staying at the Bunkhouse at Kinlochewe, and a man who comes to Kinlochewe every year to look at an eagle’s nest.

He has his telescope trained on an eagle’s nest and we had a good chat.

Of all the things I regret not doing on this trip, the one that springs to mind most frequently is “Why on earth didn’t you ask him if you could look through his telescope at the eagle’s nest??!**”  It was there on a plate for me and I didn’t do it…

My only excuse is that my knee was really quite painful and I just wanted to get to Kinlochewe.

I got phone reception about 0.5 km before the village and so texted Andrew and sent a message to my blog. And then to the bunkhouse which was attached to a pub/hotel. Joy.

I met lots of great people at Kinlochewe and ended up having a bit of a session with some ex-Navy characters. We played cards and drank too much Bacardi and coke and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I must also mention the food, which was great. I treated myself to a salmon starter, followed by lamb and veg. I was sorry to leave in the morning.

Original Blog message - sent from my mobile at 2.30 on 17/5/2011
I am absolutely knackered. Have been jumping over bog in the most stunning countryside since i left shenevall bothy at half 6 this morning. Nearly at kinlochlewe though:-)