Leg Five : Cape Wrath Trail - 2015 [Inchnadamph to Kinlochbervie]

And so it came to pass that my next leg of the Cape Wrath Trail had arrived. The end was in sight, but this next section was proving to be a quandary to plan. Having finished at Inchnadamph after an enjoyable three days in April 2014, I wanted to reach Rhiconich with this next section. That would leave me within striking distance of the Cape to be finished in 2016 perhaps.

As with all of my previous legs, I wanted to include some Corbetts on the way, and this section offered four potential summits. Glas Bheinn near Inchnadamph was a given; the primary CW route passed only a kilometre or so from the cairn. Beinn Leoid was a tougher prospect with no obvious route to its summit from the south. I had consulted the excellent Geograph website for this area, and after making contact with a busy contributor, Gordon Brown, I discovered an excellent track leading north across the moors to the road which might offer sanctuary. After Achfary, Meall Horn appeared to be a straightforward summit en route to Foinaven. But that assumed I would be going over Foinaven. If included, it would mean a long day above 500m. There were also the bothies and lochs of Loch Coul and Dubh to consider. Long stared at on maps, could I afford to bypass these? And finally, there was transport back to the start to think about.

As far as I could determine, the only paid option was the D&E operated Durness Bike Bus that shuttled between Inverness and the north once a day. Unfortunately, the season for this bus only began late in May. This of course determined my departure date; I chose the late May bank holiday. Of course, as with most of the weather since the April 2015 Easter weekend, westerly or nor'westerly air had been pummelling Scotland. This was not to change for the May Bank Holiday. Therefore I knew I'd be using my waterproofs at some stage on the trip. I had hoped to use my new Salomon Fellraiser shoes, aswell as the new, very lightweight Mountain Equipment sleeping bag recently purchased in Braemar. However, I chickened out of the Fellraisers and retained my more traditional boots. The sleeping bag was a trickier decision. It had a so-called 'Comfort Rating' of three degrees of temperature with an Extreme minimum of -2C and a minimum Comfort of 6C. Snow was forecast for the highest peaks on the Sunday so it wasn't going to be a warm weekend. I felt that with two silk-liners plus my down gilet, I might be able to retain some warmth in the lightweight bag.

Saturday 23rd May - Inchnadamph to Glendhu

29km
1430m
8hours

A high pressure system was moving eastwards over the British Isles so that the day dawned bright, calm and dry. I left Edinburgh at 06:07 and rolled into the car park at Inchnadamph at 10:01. The car park was busy, with a couple of other cars emitting occupants ready for a day on the hill. Within a kilometre, I had reached my connection with last year's walk.

I rejoin the route north at my 2014 departure point.

A quick photo, and I stepped onto the excellent hill path to the north. It was a classically engineered stalker's path which was well drained and followed the driest ground. I was able to make fast progress and soon enough was closing on a trio of other walkers in the distance. I noticed one of them carrying a fishing rod. Ahead on the skyline was the bealach below Glas Bheinn. Short of Loch Fleodach Coire, the trio left the path and headed to the shore of the loch. I crossed the stepping stones from the loch outflow; not what I had expected and I could see that in wet weather I might have struggled with that crossing!

On the shattered rocky quartzite bealach, the wind blew strongly from the south west. A change was on the way. After dumping my pack, I trotted up onto the narrow eastern ridge of Glas Bheinn which provided some pleasant views. I realised the Loch of the Green Corrie was in view. On the summit plateau, I jogged across the bouncy moss to the cairn and took some panoramas. The Assynt hills to the south and west were prominent but darkening skies over the Atlantic and swirling cloudscapes suggested it wouldn't be long.

The summit of Glas Bheinn looking towards Ben More Assynt

Looking north towards Beinn Leoid and day ahead

Back at the pack, I refuelled with a bit of sarnie and studied the map. There was a decision to be made whether I headed to the low ground and followed the coast round Lochs Coul and Dubh or whether I stuck to my original plan of forging a pathless route to Beinn Leoid. I made some estimates on timings and decided I didn't want to be arriving in a bothy at 3pm. It was also still dry. Perhaps I was suffering from the attitude of "I've travelled all this way, I can still bag it". Greed and recklessness.

From Bealach na h-Uidhe, the stalkers path zig-zagged off the steeper northern slopes below Beinn Uidhe, but I was still dry-shod. I reached the tri-fork of paths at 280271 soon enough. It was a curious spot, perched between two small lochans with a cairn as a signpost of the path division. I was still not certain of the best choice and spent some more time looking at the map and the sky. Eventually I bit-the-bullet and decided on Beinn Leoid. I turned right (SE) and followed the path gradually downhill towards a small loch a couple of kilometres away beyond a rocky gorge. I lost the path of course, which disappeared in peat/rocks/numerous streams so that when I reached the loch shore, my feet were wet. Crossing the in-flow of the loch at 301256 felt wild and I knew I was really remote. No mobile reception here, be careful not to trip or fall. What did I do next? I slipped on a rocky outcrop and fell onto my side and slid off a a wee crag to land in a muddy squelch below. Bah! Time to turn left and head back NW.

At the watershed, no mobile reception, the middle of nowhere.

The ground ahead was pretty rough, and I was glad of the visibility. Although the sky was leaden grey, the clouds hadn't broken yet and I contoured as best I could before climbing up to the shore of Lochan Druim nam Eithreag. From here, it was a steeper, but drier climb up to the summit of Beinn Leoid a thousand feet above. Sadly the clouds broke, and it was time for the waterproofs before I reached the cairn. Fortunately I was still able to get a couple of photographs of the view before the clouds descended, however once again I had a decision to make about the route ahead. I sent a couple of text messages with the available mobile reception at this altitude and then studied the map.

On the side of Beinn Leoid

From the Beinn Leoid triangulation point - the weather starting to close in.

Looking down the norther ridge of Beinn Leoid - to shelter perhaps?

The good track mentioned by Gordon Brown was visible, but I knew it was long and stayed high and I didn't have a set place to camp. Alternatively, there was the bothy of Glendhu on the shore of Loch Gleann Dubh which was on the main CW route. I estimated the bothy to be 5-6kms away. With the weather deteriorating, and my feet already wet, I opted for the bothy and set off down the NNW ridge of Beinn Leoid towards the path marked on the map emanating from Gleann Dubh. It was on the descent as my mind wandered I suddenly realised I had forgotten to pack one of the most important items of a wild-camper's kit - a spoon!! It may not sound bad, but have a think about that. What was I going to eat porridge with? What was I going to eat rehydrated bolognese with? I cursed myself as I sploshed across the moor, disturbing a couple of deer on the way.

Eventually I found the end of the path, which was actually a two-wheeled vehicle track that wound an efficient gradient into the glen and a new wooden bridge at 309329 where the track joined a more established route of gravel. For the next 2km, I entered a land that time forgot. This glen is one of the most spectacular I have had the pleasure to walk through with steep sides of rock and white waterfalls crashing down. The track wound its way around steep shoulders and abutments above the gorge below. I was stunned at the beauty of the place, and so surprised to have never heard of it. Perhaps my demeanour and the inclement weather had something to do with it but I will have the memory of Gleann Dubh for a long time.

In Gleann Dubh - dark and foreboding, prehistoric.

At last, salvation and shelter at Glendhu bothy.

Soon enough the track had reached sea-level and I could smell the salty air. Thoughts of my missing spoon returned and I pocketed up a mussel shell from the ground in the hope I could fashion it into a tool. The track wound round the shore of the loch and I arrived at the wonderful bothy of Glendhu. Another empty one. A two-up two-down building, I chose the left-hand upper room as my bedroom and dumped my gear before spending the next while in the main room downstairs to read the bothy book and enjoy the view outside. To my good fortune, some kind bothier had left some plastic cutlery behind - it was mine now!! The rain had abated by this time, and the wind had dropped - the white caps on the loch had died. In the shallows the loch-head was a fisherman's buoy marking a creel no doubt. A seal made ripples as it played with the rope on the buoy. I cooked my dinner and retired to bed.

My accommodation for the night in Glendhu bothy.

Sunday 24th May - Glendhu to Lone

17km
540m
4.5hours

My plan today was to reach Lone or the shoulders of Foinaven so not a long distance. Therefore I wasn't up at the crack of dawn. After breakfast as I rolled my thermarest, I heard the latch of the door go downstairs and a voice greeting "Hello!". I shouted back my greeting and went down to see who it was. A fellow CW trailer who had spent the night at the bothy of Glen Coul. He was a bit driven, but pleasant enough. He seemed to be following a guidebook route without any deviation or uncertainty. He told me he was hoping to walk the whole way in 10days which was an impressive pace, but when he revealed he had hitched a lift from Oykel Bridge to Inchnadamph the day berfore, he dropped in my estimations. That is not the CW trail. Anyway, he left after his break and I carried on packing up before saying my farewells to this great bothy. 

Leaving Glendhu bothy

The route for the day would be fairly low-level (compared to the day previous), only reaching 400m, but the wind was still gusting up the loch and as I passed the red cliffs of Creag Ruadh, I could see the waterfalls blowing upwards. At Maldie after 3km, I had caught up the fellow CW trailer; he was walking slowly (not someone who'd I expect to be completing in 10days!!), and I passed him as the path diverted around some new hydro works descending from the Maldie Burn.

Maldie Burn hydro works

I followed the good track up the west of the river, peering at the muddy scars on the east from the hydro works. After a break for food, I continued on the track which began an ascent northwards to join the more major path crossing from Kylesku. Beside the track every fifty metries or so were posts marking a buried electric cable. They did spoil the prospect a little. At the lonely shieling on Bealach nam Fiann I sheltered behind a wall from the keen wind to eat some chocolate. Continuing briefly north, the track then began a steep descent to the NE below the cliffs of Meall Diamhain. It was a well maintained vehicle track and progress was fast. The views ahead included the iconic cone of Ben Stack and the remarkable cliffs of Arkle. True to the forecast, Foinaven and Meall Horn were obscured by grey clag.

On the summit of the pass between Loch Dubh and Achfary. The other CW trailer on the horizon.

Looking north towards Meall Horn and Arkle (left)

I reached the road SE of Achfary and plodded through the wee hamlet just as the heavens broke. Near the school, I took the opportunity to dump some rubbish in the bins by the road before heading to the path at An Earachd. I was last here in early 2012 when I had climbed Ben Stack before following the same track towards Lone and Arkle. Although slightly warmer today than 3years earlier, it was more wet and windy and I walked with a sense of foreboding about the next few hours. Soon enough I had passed the locked bothy at the aptly named Lone and was in the wee forest at the foot of Arkle. The trees dripped.

The split rock marking the gateway to wilder lands. I camped in the trees behind.

It was only two-thirty but ahead was a long stretch of high ground and with the current weather and forecast, I didn't fancy an exposed hillside for camping out on. After some scratching about, I found a dryish flat area of ground near the path in the trees and pitched the tent. What followed was the worst night's camping I've had for a long while. My pathetic 'lightweight' sleeping bag offered little warmth in the freezing temperatures so when 6am arrived, I was glad the night was over.

Monday 25th May - Lone to Kinlochbervie

24km
1450m
8hours

Sticking my head out of the tent, I couldn't see the mountains due to low cloud and rain blowing down the glen. Rain dripped from the trees. Dismayed, I laid out the map on the tent floor and looked at the options. I was due in Rhiconich at 4.00pm to catch the Durness Bike Bus on its return to Inverness, the original plan had been to traverse the ridge of Foinaven and down the A838, but in this weather, I'd be better starting low and crossing the moor directly to Rhiconich. Making my choice, I zipped up, and dropped the tent. In the 15minutes it took me to pack up, the mountains suddenly appeared, and the rain took a rest. Aha! The fickle mind switched back to Plan A. Back to the hills!

The track was streaming, but I made good progress up towards the Bealach Horn between the Corbetts of Meall Horn and Foinaven. Sadly, the weather closed in again, and at 400m, I was in the cloud. Bizarrely, at the same moment, a mountain-biker came trundling out of the mist, with a fully equipped bike. I waved to him and he waved back. A few hundred metres later came another bike, this time the rider stopped and asked how many others I'd seen. They seemed to be on some sort of organised event/race. I reached the summit of the bealach at 510m. Visibility was down to 30m, the wind was driving rain from the west. After a quick map check, I greedily decided to head south-east towards Meall Horn - only 250m higher, 1.5km away. But very quickly I realised this was an error of judgement. The ground was steep, and my hands were freezing in the wet wind. I couldn't see anything - it was only going to get worse the higher I went. Heading this direction wasn't getting nearer to that bus. So I returned to the bealach.

I ate some chocolate and got the phone out to text home. Things were pretty dire. If I returned down the hill to restart Plan B across the moors, I would waste valuable time and possibly miss the bus. Alternatively, for a new Plan C, I could perhaps head north into Strath Dionard and catch the bus on the road near Gualin House. But I had no idea about the route round Loch Dionard or how long it would take. Back to Plan A and over Foinaven. Zips up, gloves on, straps tightened, Radio 2 in the ears, I set off up into the storm. It was 9am.

My views on Foinaven were non-existent - such a shame!

Once onto the main ridge of Foinaven, it was obviously easy to follow, but I cursed the weather. I saw absolutely nothing of the mountain. By the time Jeremy Vine was about to start ranting, I was dropping out of the cloud off Ceann Garbh.

Looking towards Kinlochbervie and Loch Inchard from the shoulder of Ceann Garbh

The next 3 or so kilometres crossed some wild country of pathless bogs and heather, interspersed with deep stream channels and studded with lochans. Of course, I lost any FM reception, so resorted to Stevenson's "The Invisible Man" audio book. With great relief, I reached the salvation of the tarmac at 278544. It was only 2pm, and I realised I still had some time until the bus arrived so decided to extend the day towards Kinlochbervie. The weather had improved enough to pack the waterproofs, and I strode past the General's Loch on a sheep track with a new lease of life.

London Stores at Badcall. Foinaven still under a blanket of cloud.

Back to the tarmac of the B801 at Achriesgill, I plodded on towards Inshegra and eventually the esoteric 'London Stores' at Badcall. Things were good; the sun was almost making an appearance and I bought some rewards of Doritos & Irn Bru to eat on the bench outside. After another couple of kilometres, I reached  a suitable spot to wait for the bus at the back of the harbour in Kinlochbervie with thirty minutes to spare. I phoned D&E coaches in Inverness to make sure the bus was on its way, hung my wet gear on a fence to dry in the breeze and waited.

Eventually, after a roundabout trip via Lochinver, I was dropped at Inchnadamph at 6pm and drove home satisfied with another wild weekend.

Blair Atholl to Mar Lodge

Sunday 12th April 2015

On a showery morning, I set off from the house down the road and caught the bus to Haymarket Station. Onto the 09:35 train to the north. At Perth I decided to check my rucsac that I'd left near one of the doors. I soon noticed a problem; my water carrier was leaking. Inside my dry bag. I had left the house in a hurry that I'd not thought to pack it outside of the dry bag. Sleeping bag, liner, gilet, gloves, balaclava were wet. From Perth to Pitlochry I tried to dry out what I could, and soak up the water with the remains of my Scotland on Sunday newspaper. 

I alighted at Blair Atholl with one other passenger who disappeared down the road. At the war memorial, I reorganised my pack and attire before setting off up the road to Old Blair and eventually onto the Glen Tilt track. The weather was changeable, with bubbling clouds of cumulus threatening to dump at any minute, interspersed by blue sky. 

I reached Gilbert's Bridge after an hour or so and stopped for lunch on the parapet. I watched two robins fighting under a beech tree and having a right old set-to. At this point I felt I was far enough away from civilisation to get out my wet silk liner and hang it over my rucsac to dry as I walked. From a distance I suspect I looked rather odd with the white sheet billowing around me like a wizard's cape from a Tolkien episode. 

Beyond Marble Lodge

Onwards I strode passing Auchgobhal (barks), Marble Lodge (empty), and eventually Forest Lodge (occupied). The sides of Beinn Y Ghlo were very white, with the snow line down to about 450m and I could see the odd line of deer crossing the steep slopes above the glen. After Forest Lodge, the track started to become a little less smooth, and soon enough, the vehicle track headed off up the hill leaving a cycle track to continue up the river side. 

 

Before Bedford Bridge

I reached Bedford Bridge at the Falls of Tarf in a sunny spell, so took a break to refuel. 

Bedford Bridge - a vital crossing for the glen

The track was now single, and in places there were a couple of granny-stoppers. If biking you'd be carrying it at this point. On the right the river was overlooked by a loose outcrop of yellowy rock - on the map it was Meall na Caillich Buidhe. 

And not long after the river slowed considerably as the land levelled out and became a wide Dail. Checking the map I could see I was at the watershed; the highest point of the glen. Patches of old snow lay on the ground, but the flat grass was dry. It was not windy so I decided to pitch the tent. 

The watershed and a flat, dry place to camp

Monday 13th April 2015

A cold night with some more snow but light winds. Overnight I'd been disturbed by oyster catchers and grouse calling from all around. And I won't say much about the barking fox I'd heard just after midnight. I didn't want to leave too early because I knew that access to Mar Lodge was restricted until after 4pm, but I only had 4-5hours walking ahead of me. I took my time packing up after watching a couple of downloads on the iPod. 

The path disappeared in places here, but the route was easy

The route climbed a little higher before descending towards the lonely ruin of Bynack Lodge which warranted a wee nose around. Not far from the lodge, the path reverted to a good vehicle track.

Outside near rhe track a male red grouse was patrolling looking for a fight.

Onwards I plodded until I reached the wide barrier of the Geldie Burn. Not so much a Burn, more a torrent. Fortunately I had brought my sandals for this crossing and with my laces knotted and boots slung round my neck, I waded into the river. There were two channels to cross; both as wide and fast as each other. The water only reached to knee height but once I was on the opposite bank, my feet were numb with cold and I screamed with pain. 

One of the two channels of the Geldie Burn

Dried off and warmed up, I continued on my way to the White Bridge (not white) over the River Dee. I left the vehicle track again, but joined an excellently constructed footpath heading north towards the Lairig Ghru. I passed the first peope I'd seen since Blair Atholl 24hours before, a group of teenagers with an adult leading. I assumed they'd been staying at Corrour. 

After two kilometres, I stopped for a break to refuel and don the gaiters before leaving the path and stepping into the heather heading up to Sgor an Eoin. The steepest slope of the journey thus far and I was soon puffing. Ahead I saw a figure coming off the craggy top and descending my route. We both seemed to head for a rendezvous at the 550m contour. A Corbett bagger like myself, he had been staying the week in a campervan at Braemar and had cycled in from Linn of Dee to grab one last summit of his holiday. 

I continued up onto the plateau and reached the windy summit of Sgor Mor. What a viewpoint! 

With all the hills of the southern Cairngorms on show stretching out before me. Even more satisfying to be able to trace routes up each of them over many years starting in 1990. The wind buffeted me onwards to the subsidiary top at 741m where I tried to shelter in the snow filled cairn for some lunch. 

The plan was to descend north-east towards Derry Lodge. The OS map marked a bridge crossing the Lui Water near Bob Scott's where I hoped to join the good track back to Linn of Dee. However, as I descended from the trig point, and the slope dropped away to show me the glen below, I became convinced there was no bridge. I couldn't see one. 

Rather than lose 400m of height unnecessarily, I decided to continue south over the hill to the Black Bridge over the Lui further down river. Unfortunately the terrain became pretty rough over the hill and soon I was clambering through knee deep heather. 

After Black Bridge I followed a good track through the pines towards Claybokie and eventually Mar Lodge. I felt like a marathon runner as I approached the building from the west passing the ruins of the Springwatch studio. 

It was 3.30pm. I knew the PIN for the lodge entry from our previous visit so sneaked in and made myself at home in the apartment. I was back.

Leg Four : Cape Wrath Trail - 2014 [Braemore Junction to Inchnadamph]

It was becoming a ritual now, and with further inspiration received from blipper Ian Somerville, I spent the remainder of 2013 planning the next leg of the route. It was becoming a pleasurable evening distraction; how to use public transport to get back to the car? Were there any Corbetts en route? Are there going to be river crossings to negotiate? Once I had settled on a vague route, I relied on the excellent Geograph site which plots ground level images of almost every OS 1:50K grid square in the UK. This was helpful in determining river widths, ground vegetation and such like in order to 'plan' the route in finer detail. Some might say this is not in the spirit of exploration, but I was not bothered. It gave me some solace to know that other humans had actually been where I wanted to tread. There might not be dragons afterall!

19th April 2014
Distance : 27.7km
Ascent : 1800m
Time : 9hours

Once again, I had travelled north on the day before, but this time had made use of the fantastic weather by ascending Sail Mhor above Dundonnell, waving at the goats on the way. I camped in Ullapool and in the following sunny morning, left the car outside the eclectic Ceilidh Place.  

I stood at the bus stop at the ferry ticket office in the morning sun. Rucksack stressed at the seams, walking poles in place, buff round my neck and sunglasses on. After a few minutes, an old local bufty walked up to me. "Ye ken the ticket office is closed?" he said
"Sorry?"
"The ticket office," he gestured behind me at the ferry terminal, "its closed for refurbishment."
"Oh no, I'm waiting for the bus to Braemore," said I in my broadest accent. 
"Ah right, I thocht ye were a tourist for the ferry!"

The bus hissed into the parking area, and as I checked with the bus driver where I wanted to go and the fare, he waved his hand and said "Doesna matter pal, on ye get". 

We pelted along the A832 towards Inverlael, taking bends faster than I would in my car, and soon I was alighting at Braemore, after my gratis journey. 

Twelve months before at the same spot as I finished , I was wet, cold, miserable, and the bus was late. Today, it was a lovely warm morning, and I was raring to go....

The first section of this walk would be onto the hills pretty much from the start, but I wanted to keep my feet dry and hoped that the vehicle track on the map leading towards the Home Loch would be my salvation. It wasn't to be. The tracl was barred by a gate which held a sign with strict instructions for walkers trying to get to the Home Loch to go via the hill path, and not the vehicle track. Tail between my legs, I turned round, walked across the parking area to the edge of the forest and stepped onto the hill. 

The path itself wasn't too bad, but in wet weather it could have been a quagmire. I made good progress to the Home Loch which was perched above Inverlael, a wonderful backdrop. I joined with a vehicle track briefly and passed through a herd of weird looking sheep/goats. Or shoats.

The Home Loch with the Fannichs behind

Shoats

At a junction, I left the track and ventured into the young bracken, following another good stalker's path up to the 550m col between Beinn Enaglair and Meall Doire Faid. Near to the high point, I passed an enormous boulder lying in a bog. It was house sized. Maybe. 

What little wind there was had dropped, and I was now sweating like a sweaty person. I decided to change into shorts which I had optimisticlly brought and ended up wearing for the next two days! After some food, I left the path and climbed the 300m to the summit of Beinn Enaglair, the first of many summits for the day. The views were incredible, and I spent some time surveying where I had come from in 2013, to where I was heading. 

I had Radio Scotland in my ears again, this time it was John Beattie's sports programme and Denis Taylor was musing about the coming hopefuls at the Crucible. Leaving Beinn Enaglair was trickier said than done, and I found myself contouring for a few metres to avoid some crags and scree. 

Next was the wonderfully named Iorguill (872m) which I managed to ascend easily after picking up an excellent stalker's path that zigzagged me up to the summit. Whilst grabbing a bit of food to eat, John Beattie switched to Stuart Cosgrove - time for a podcast on the ipod - an episode of the Infinite Monkey Cage led me on to the summit of Beinn Dearg (1084m) via the massive Mourne like wall that bounds the south side of Gleann na Sguaib. The summit itself is on top of a dome away from the wall (and my route north), but it had to be climbed.

Gleann na Sguaib wall

Back to the wall, I slithered through the old spring snow down to the tri-col, passing a large group of walkers on the way up. Then over to Meall nan Ceapraichean (977m) for lunch. I had travelled some distance by now, but was tired from the amount of ascent carrying the pack. There was still one more Munro to cross. 

More snowfields to skite down into the next col and ahead I spied a pair of walkers moving slowly up to Eididh nan Clach Geala (928m). I caught them at the summit and chatted for a while. It was their final summit for the day, and were heading back to Inverlael next. When asked where I was heading, I soon realised how far I had to go. It was a daunting prospect. Who planned this route?? 

Thankfully the weather was perfect, and underfoot it was dry and made for easy walking. I dropped down to Coire an Lochain Sgeirich to refill the water bottle at the same time as another pair of walkers who were returning from Seana Bhraigh. The thought that they were heading somewhere known, probably a comfortable bed knocked me a bit, and the next section of knee high heather didn't help matters. 

I reached Gleann a Chadha Dheirg and the wide River Douchary emanating from the coire below Seana Bhraigh. This was remote. You had to work hard to be here. But at least I was heading almost due north, eating up the kilometres. 

River Douchary

On the map, there was a vehicle track marked heading a long way up the glen. But the internet and Google Earth had told me otherwise. Now I could see it for myself; the track did not exist, but started a few kilometres across the hillside to the north. No matter, I had been off track for most of the day so carried on north. When I did eventually reach the track, it was no help, just a gravelly muddy mass instead of dry heather. 

But after another kilometre it had established itself into a more hard packed gravel and I was on my way. To my right, below the cliffs of Meall nam Bradhan, I watched an eagle soaring along the hillside, tracking a lone deer that was running to somewhere. It was fascinating to see however I was now officially nackered. I sat on my rucksack at the side of the track eating peanuts and chocolate and sipping water. I looked at the map. Ideally I wanted to reach Duag Bridge at day's end, but it was still 10km away. Even though it was 5pm, and there would still be 2hours of light, I didn't feel like I had the energy. 

I plodded onwards, finding some FM radio reception near the path junction with Strathmulzie and listened to Dermot O'Leary briefly before he disappeared into a maelstrom of white noise. Once again to my right, a wonderful view unfolded with the dark depths of Coire Mor and the Alp-like Creag an Duine towering majestically into evening light. I had climbed its steep narrow ridge in November 2011 and still remember it to be the best mainland mountain ridge scramble I've experienced. 

At last I reached the main track in Strathmulzie beside a side tributary. I decided to call it a day. 

My campsite in Strath Mulzie

20th April 2014
Distance : 30km
Ascent : 150m
Time : 8.5hours

The tent flysheet had frost on it when I woke up as the sun rose above the horizon over Cnoc an Tubait. Brrrr! It had been a cold night, but I had slept well after my marathon the day before. Whilst I breakfasted, I tried to get the sun to melt and then evaporate the moisture on the flysheet; its not good to be carrying a wet tent. 

Today was going to be an easy walk compared to yesterday, no worry about navigation or river crossings (ahem - wait till later), little or no ascent. Infact, pretty dull. the earphones went in, with an audio book recently downloaded from the Edinburgh Libraries catalogue - Laidlaw by William Mcilvanney. 

Strathmulzie, 20th April 2014

The bothy at Duag Bridge was empty. The visitors' book had no entry for days, if I'd had the energy to reach it last night I would have been alone. After some cheese and biscuits, and watching a female walker's car roll past the white curtained window, I plodded on down the track towards Oykel Bridge. The day was warming up to be a scorcher and I put on some suncream when I reached the bridge. 

Butterflies flitted between dandelions and primroses on the bridge as I used the mobile reception to text home and update my progress.  I took a break from Laidlaw and listened to Michael Portillo pontificating about the build-up to the first World War.  

Oykel Bridge

When planning this section of the route, I had reluctantly conformed to follow the track all the way to Oykel Bridge, but on the map this meant heading east, rather than north. Over the winter I had spent a long time studying Geograph pictures of the ground north of the river. There was a bridge over the River Einig near Craggan, and some forestry to negotiate over the hill to reach Lubcroy, but my only hesitation was about accessing the bridge marked on the map at 352027 to cross the River Oykel. 

Following the well maintained vehicle track along the north side of the Strath, I was dismayed to see that the footbridge at 352027 was in working condition; I could have come over the hill afterall. Nevermind. 

The sun was scorching now, and there was no shelter for several kilometres. Near the fateful footbridge, I passed through a cattle farm, with a loud herd of cows swatting flies with their tails. Nearby I stopped in the shade of a shed for some food, and noticing my mobile had 5bars of reception, made a phone call home. It was this break, I am sure, that resulted in a handful of new ticks on my legs. 

Eventually I entered the forestry, and reached the marked fishing beats of the Oykel. I stopped at the fisherman's lodge named Salachy on the map to eat lunch in the wooden hut. It was like a sauna inside, but I was glad to get out of the sun. I lay my damp thermal top on the picnic bench to dry. 

Another four kilometres brought me to the tarmac leading to Ben More lodge at the other side of Loch Ailsh. What a view! The waters of the loch were still, only broken by the odd duck. I could hear bird song from the far side. The lodge stood majestically with the backdrop of Ben More Assynt towering behind. 

Loch Ailsh and Ben More lodge

It was mid-afternoon as I reached the small hamlet of houses near the lodge, working dogs barking from their kennels, poultry pecking grass. Kids' clothes drying on a washing line, Argo cats and quad bikes parked up. Didn't see a soul though!

My day was coming to an end, and William Mcilvanney was also drawing to a close - a cracking listen. I followed the River Oykel and crossed the tributary of Allt Sail an Ruathair looking out for the bridge marked to the east of Black Rock. Disconcertingly, the map wasn't shown on the 1:25K map, only the 1:50K. The bridge didn't exist. 

Boots and socks off, I waded across to the grassy west bank and found somewhere for the tent. 

Camp below Ben More Assynt

21st April 2014
Distance : 14.2km
Ascent : 760m
Time : 5.5hours

Whilst packing the tent up, the stronger wind set the scene for the day and I struggled to control everything as I stuffed it into various containers. Behind my campsite was the ominously named Black Rock. Two hundred metres of weird orangey black rock led me upwards into the low cloud. A little bit of map reading and I was heading for the Bealach Choinnich, disturbing a large herd of deer in the process who scampered off into the cloud. Higher and higher I climbed, onto the gnarled quartzite screes of Breabag. 

A vague path through the screes led me to the edge of Coirean Ban where I was afforded a wonderful view across the glen to Conival and Ben More Assynt. I found the summit cairn in a gale, and ate a Snickers bar behind a rock. It was Monday morning so I found Ken Bruce blethering away in my ears on Radio Two. Unfortunately the wind was so strong, that even on full volume, I struggled to hear the Pop Master quiz questions. 

Coirean Ban

Suilven from Breabag

The Corbett of Breabag (815m) is a bit like Beinn Eighe, in that its not your average single topped mountain, its more of a mountain range in itself. I had to navigate the wide rocky ridge in a vaguely NNE direction, struggling against the wind buffeting me off the mountain. On a numer of occasions I had my hands on rock; to ascend a curious barring cliff; to pad up a slab; to catch my balance at the top of the next cliff.

Breabag complexity

This is a complex mountain!

Eventually, I reached a point where it was safe to descend north towards the Munro baggers' path to Conival. I reached this after twelve and had a pleasant stroll alongide the elusive River Traligill towards Inchnadamph. On the way I passed a few walkers heading for the Munros and I warned them of the wind I had experienced at higher altitudes. 

Heading towards Inchnadamph

A kilometre short of Inchnadamph, I stopped for lunch whilst listening to John Beattie extolling the virtues of city cycling. Then it was on to the road and the anxious wait for the only bus of the day back to Ullapool. It arrived 20minutes late (nothing like a CWT tradition!) and I was soon on my way back home down the A9. 

This leg had been the most satisfying of the four so far, probably because of the weather I had experienced. But the hills of the first day were second to none, and both campsites were good. No hotels this time!