Knoydart, Knapdale and the Northwest

Last week I indulged in an extremely risky activity - I allocated  a week's precious annual leave to holiday in Scotland in October. The gamble paid off; my week coincided with something of an Indian summer. The photos accompanying this post give a flavour of the highlights.................

The week kicked off with trip to Glen Pean for a bothy weekend. This leaves Kinbreak as my only outstanding Knoydart bothy. It was a fine weekend, echoing a similar trip last year, only this time round all of us had abandoned young families and the morning lie ins were that much sweeter as a result.

On leaving the bothy I made directly for Kintyre to meet up with my own family. We took a trip to Knapdale in an attempt to seek out another young family; I was aware from the excellent beaver blog that some of the recently re-introduced beavers have produced kits this season. We didn't spot any but were very impressed by the huge dam they have built (below). I'll definitely be back in the hope of clapping eyes on the beasts themselves.

This photo of pounding sea and perching shags was taken during a stroll round the Coves near Kilberry Head. I can't quite bring myself to take advantage of the opportunity for double entendres provided by this unlikely combination of beaver and shags, feel free however  to add your own as comments below.

The paps the paps are calling me.......... The paps of Jura from near Kilberry.

The Islay ferry from the same vantage point. I have started plotting an adventure that will take full advantage of the presence of willing babysitters a stone's throw from the ferry terminal at Kennacraig. Watch this space!

The icing on the holiday cake came on the last day. I returned home slightly ahead of family and livestock and on finding a fine forecast for the Sunday I headed for An Teallach. (the photo shows the view over Strath na Sealga to Beinn Dearg Mor with the Fisherfield and Torridon Munros beyond).

Despite living very close to this fine peak I'd never climbed it before. There is some fine airy scrambling to be had on the ridge which renders it a poor choice for dogs. Many's the time I have planned to bag it, but finding myself unable to leave my four-legged friend behind, I've changed plans and tackled more canine friendly hills instead.  My fisherfield trip earlier in the year was dog-free specifically because I intended to tackle An Teallach on the last day, but when it came to it I couldn't muster the energy to take on the pinnacles while carrying a heavy sack. It was, therefore, unfinished business. With a distinct chill in the air it felt like it may have provided a fitting end to the summer season.

Publish Post

Rum Perspectives

I'm always interested in analysing exactly why I love the landscape of Scotland and in reading other people's views on this topic. For W. H. Murray it was the unusual combination of water and mountain that made it so enchanting. Murray would no doubt approve of the subject of the photos I have selected from my recent excursions, for they feature one of the more aesthetically pleasing combinations of water and mountain, the Cuillin of Rum.

Scotland is composed almost entirely of distinct and recognisable elements and one of the great pleasures of getting to know the landscape is being able to pick out distant features, letting them bring to mind the occasions of previous visits. The pictures below show the Cuillin of Rum from two different perspectives.

An early morning shot from the Croft Campsite at Arisaig (second visit of the year) taken on the last weekend in September.

And one from the first weekend in October, taken from the the hillside on the southern side of Glen Pean. The view is down Loch Morar with Arisaig being located on the coast beyond the flat area at the western end of the loch. I found it tremendously satisfying when the view prompted me to recall the previous weekend's sunbathing while crouched on the distinctly autumnal hillside with the roar of the stags ringing in my ears.

A Winter Bivvy on Sgurr a'Mhaoriach

Took on a mountaintop bivvy on Saturday night on Sgurr Coire nan Eiricheallach, a hill at the to the north of Loch Quoich that is commonly climbed before the nearby Munro, Sgurr a 'Mhaoriach. An island in the loch was previously occupied by an outlaw who shared my name - Ewan Macfie. He refused to pay any taxes and took potshots at anyone who approached too close to his island. 

I passed two very pleasant hours approaching the summit by moonlight, arriving just before 2000, and used my snow shovel to excavated a little hollow, as a hare would.

A gentle breeze tempted me inside my bothy bag to get some tea and food on the go. I'd underestimated the logistical difficulties involved in cooking inside a bothy bag. It gets quite warm inside but the steam freezes on the fabric then flakes off and melts, making the inside slightly damp. It would have been far easier and more pleasant just to get my lower body inside my sleeping bag before I started doing anything else and that's the course of action I'd recommend.

What a great view to eat my porridge to - the early morning sun catches the face of Ladhar Bheinn and the south ridge of Sgurr a 'Mhaoriach.

View from the bivvy site towards the heavily snow covered summit of Sgurr a 'Mhaoriach. Inside my hollow I have a warm sleeping bag (800g down) encased in a Rab Survival Zone sleeping bag cover. A good sleeping bag is essential if you want to pass a restful night in a winter bivvy, as is a full weight Thermarest and a warm belay jacket with a hood. 

There wasn't a single light visible anywhere, the only trace of human activity was a very faint hint of light pollution from distant Fort William. I wasn't alone though - if you look carefully in the lower left corner of this photo you'll make out the tracks of a fox who passed within 2 feet of me as I slept.

Back along the ridge to Sgurr Coire nan Eiricheallach with Glen Quoich below.

Forward along the ridge to Sgurr a'Mhaoriach.

Spectacular view from the summit of Sgurr a'Mhaoriach to Loch Hourn and Ladhar Bheinn. Barrisdale Bay is to the left of the islands.

Stag with Gleouriach behind.

Knoydart

Took a trip to the A'Chuil bothy in Knoydart at the weekend. It's always nice to meet up with friends and to be reminded of their charming eccentricities.  For instance, within 30 seconds of parking my van at the head of Loch Arkaig on Friday night I was reminded of just how wet one of my friend's farts always sound. His ass became badly infected in Tibet a few years ago and he has been afflicted with a tremendously flappy ring ever since.

The view east along  Loch Arkaig from the ruined barracks at Strathan. According to the internet they were built after the '45 Jacobite uprising and occupied for a mere 6 months. 

The selectivity of the human memory is a wonderful thing. Unpleasant events and squelchy farts are quickly forgotten. I had been concerned, therefore, at how fresh my impression of the unpleasantness of interminable single track road along the north shore of Loch Arkaig remained, despite the passing of five years since my first encounter with its endless, hilly bends. I timed it on the way out; the 21.7 miles from Strathan to the commando memorial above Spean Bridge (how do you ascertain whether or not a statue is wearing underpants?) took me a full  hour to drive.

The best aspect of the weekend was that it was spent in a data-free oasis, the ramparts of the Knoydart peaks providing a brief respite from the 3G signal and the incessant river of data that flows through our lives. I wouldn't normally have noticed but I've recently joined the 21st century and obtained myself a smartphone. I feel mildly embarassed to be evangelising about a piece of technology that's been available for so long. I held off getting a normal mobile for some time too, my mind tainted against their benefits by images of yuppies braying into brick sized units with wrist straps and extendable arials. It was the telecommunications equivalent of a bag of smack in the playground - a free bone with 20 quid's worth of credit - that got me hooked in the end.

Thankfully the forecast 100 mph gusts didn't materialise so we got a good day on the hill on saturday before the rain set in. View from Sgurr nan Coireachan towards Garbh Cioch Mhor and the Matterhorn of Knoydart, Sgurr na Ciche. Beyond Loch Nevis you can just make out the Sgurr of Eigg and the Rum Cuillin.

Next week will see me pick up the geological thread thread I started a few weeks back. I've arranged to head out with a local expert on saturday, so my next post will be something of a virtual field trip of the  Inverness area.