A two day Torridon tour - between a rock and a hard place

Continuing our paddle along the north side of Loch Torridon, Allan and I paused at this ruin.  It may have been a croft or a fishing station, but would have been a tough place in which to make a living.

For most of this part of the loch the shore is steep and rocky - difficult to walk along...unless you happen to be perfectly adapted of course.  We saw several goats and I've met with them previously in this area.

Approaching Loch Diabaig, there's a change in the geology from sandstone to Lewisian Gneiss and the scenery becomes suddenly more rugged but with very few landing places......

.....apart from the shore at the head of Loch Diabaig.  The settlement of Lower Diabaig must be one of the trickiest places in Scotland to reach by road, a minor road at the end of a long minor road which twists over the Bealach na Gaoithe (pass of the winds) before descending steeply to sea level again - truly between a rock and a hard place.

Heading out of Loch Diabaig and towards the narrows separating outer and middle Loch Torridon there's another change in the rock type and this time the contact zone is unmistakeable.  On one side of the contact there's a pink sedimentary rock, and on the other a dark metamorphised igneous rock.

We were by now looking at a couple of options for a second night camping.  There are surprisingly few good spots; we checked out one I've used before on a small promontory before deciding on a patch of level ground on the south shore of the loch.  As it was quite early in the afternoon we decided to paddle part of the upper loch before pitching our tents.

As we passed through the narrows by Eilean a' Chaol (Island of the kyle (narrow)) the view up to the head of the loch showed that a change in the weather was approaching.  The big Torridon hills were obscured by thick cloud and we could see heavy rain falling.  As this was headed our way we started back towards our intended campsite, but the rain beat us.

As the rain started the wind dropped to a dead calm - and we knew exactly what would be waiting for us on the shore!  Almost as soon as we stepped from the boats we were attacked by midges which seemed undeterred by the rain.  We now had a fairly easy decision - we were only about half an hour's paddling from Shieldaig and our car; and we could easily get home that evening if we chose to.  The prospect of a night confined to our tents to shelter from both rain and midges wasn't that appealing - after all, our trip ws meant as a relaxed couple of days! 

We arrived at a decision pretty quickly and got back in the boats to paddle across to Shiledaig.  Even on the main street of the village the midges were biting us as we loaded the boats onto the car.

Loch Torridon had given us a good couple of days paddling and had fulfilled the aim of sheltered options in very changeable winds and weather.  When the wind is in the north or south it's a good alternative to more exposed parts of the north west coast, though the topography of hills and the loch does tend to funnel any easterly winds.

A two day Torridon tour - big sky morning

Sometime during the night I became aware that the rain had stopped and the wind had dropped away.  Early sunlight heating the tents prompted us to be up and about early, emerging into a bright morning.  Unfortunately, we weren't the only ones to be up and about early and we exited the tents straight into clouds of ferocious midges.  Usually they don't bite much in bright sunlight (see paragraph 2.6.2 in this paper), but the local population on this piece of Loch Torridon shoreline clearly hadn't read the paper!  We scrambled for our midge repellent and I straight away put on my suit of "midge armour" which made things much more bearable........

Though the midges were doing their level best it was still a lovely morning, and in a superb location. Packing was a little quicker than we'd have liked in order to escape the midge attack, which remarkably continued even as the day heated up. 

As soon as we were on the water and away from the shore we left the midges behind and were able to fully appreciate the morning....and what a morning!  Our position at the outermost part of Loch Torridon had sweeping views - to the west the Trotternish peninsula on Skye lay under an ever-changing cloudscape; while on the horizon we caught a glimpse of the long chain of the outer Hebrides.

It was the majestic cloudscapes (and not the midge attack!) which made the morning so memorable.  Towering cumulus would build over the land and then slowly subside in an ever-changing pattern, dissipating where it drifted over water and never really threatening rain.

We paddled eastward, into Loch Torridon and into patterns of bright sunlight and cloud-shadow.

Each time the sun emerged from the cloud pattern, the water beneath our boats was flooded with morning light, the colour and detail snapped into sharp focus by the intensity of the light.

As the morning grew warmer the cloudscape developed a heavier, more solid appearance, but still didn't really threaten rain.  The Skye shore was in shade, while here on the Torridon shore.....

...we basked in warm sun.  After an hour or so of paddling we decided on a second breakfast and landed on a beach of sandstone boulders.  Thankfully the midges seemed to have given up and we enjoyed a pleasant coffee break propped against boulders warmed by the sun.

A two day Torridon tour - a meteorological beating

On our crossing of outer Loch Torridon we had a very visible aiming point - the sandy beach at Red Point which seemed to have caught any patches of sunlight throughout the day.  A pale patch amongst greys, greens and browns, it stands out well in views from the south.  The swell which had built up behind us as we crossed was broken up by a small island and an offshore reef, making for a relatively easy landing.

Red Point was the site of a fishing station, now abandoned.  The cottages are just gable ends and a couple of walls, the most complete building being a semi-derelict store on the shore.  It's missing substantial portions of wall and roof and was a bit "sheepy" - we would be glad of it soon enough! Slender trunks of pine trees seem out of place in the dunes nearby; they didn't grow here but were dug into the dunes to provide supports for net drying.

I knew from a previous visit that we could find decent pitches behind the dunes, we pitched our tents in comparative shelter from a strong breeze which at least guaranteed no midges would trouble us during the evening.

A blink of evening sunshine provided a flash of colour, but unfortunately it didn't last long........

...before the weather begann to close in.  The wind increased to a pretty strong blow and soon we felt the first spots of rain.

To the south, the shore we'd paddled from looked to be getting some heavier rain; we reflected that place we'd originally planned to camp would have been exposed to the worst of this weather.

To seaward, there was an unmistakeable and menacing bank of rain approaching.  We moved our cooking kit into the derelict shed to take advantage of whatever shelter it offered - there would be no camp fire on this evening!

The next couple of hours saw heavy rain and a strong wind battering the coast, and the shed where we huddled to eat dinner.  The weather was pretty hostile and the evening was one of the coldest August evenings I can recall outside of the mountains.  Soon after dinner we battened down our tents and retired to our sleeping bags.

The view from the tent door just before I closed it up was quite dramatic.  The mountains of Torridon were invisible and the middle part of the loch at Shieldaig was taking a real meteorological beating - the sky was a livid purple shade and the sheets of rain were clearly visible.  Lying in my sleeping bag listening to the rain and wind on the tent, I wondered what the morning might bring......

A two day Torridon tour - changing like the weather

 July and August of 2017 offered little in the way of settled weather in Scotland.  Frequent spells of windy conditions limited the opportunity for anything more than brief outings.  In the second week of August Allan and I spotted a couple of days in the forecast which looked like giving a good chance of doing a camping trip - though there was uncertainty about the wind strength.

In general it looked to be from the south for a day before swinging through west to north for the following two days.  Finding somewhere which would offer shelter from opposing wind directions on consecutive days was an interesting conundrum!  We decided on a trip from Loch Torridon, with options to head out to the island of Rona if the weather was particularly obliging, or staying within the loch if it proved less benign.

We drove over to the west coast and prepared to set out from Shieldaig (from the old Norse "Sildvik" - Herring Bay).  The sky looked quite threatening as we packed our boats, we hoped that the forecast of brighter conditions later was accurate.

 We started out heading north west towards the outer loch.  Loch Torridon is in three sections, the outer loch which is a wide expanse opening to the Minch, Loch Shieldaig forms part of the middle section and an upper loch which laps the feet of the great Torridon rampart, Liathach.

 Shortly after setting out the overcast, drizzly cloud began to break up and allow some warm sunshine to break through.  As so often in Scotland, the speed of the change from grey to dazzling colour was startling......

 ....and we were soon in bright sunlight under blue skies.

 The view up the loch to the distant Torridon hills was particularly fine, rows of shapely summits marching into the distance.  We landed in a rocky bay to take a leisurely second luncheon and enjoy the sun on our backs.

 It was clear that the sunny conditions wouldn't last too long though, and with an approaching cloudbank came a strong southerly wind.  This caused us to revise our plans - the strength of the wind within the shelter of the loch suggested that things would be a lot more gusty in open water. Our plan had been to paddle out of the loch and head south to camp in a bay which faced south - this was in anticipation of stronger northerly winds the following day.  It was clear that we'd have a slog to the intended bay and that it would be exposed to swell and weather.  We rafted up for a quick reassessment.....


Our revised plan was to paddle along the southern shore of the outer loch as far as Rubha na Fearna, (one of two headlands with the same name, less than two kilometres apart, the name means Point of the Alder trees), then to cross the loch with the wind at our backs to the north shore and camp there.  The campsite would be exposed to the southerly weather but I knew a place that we could find a sheltered spot - and we'd be in a good position when the wind did swing to the north.

We weren't the only folk to be wild camping on the shore of Loch Torridon that evening; a pair of fishermen had set up their tent on the turf of a sandstone shelf.  The site was very sheltered, but you wouldn't want to be prone to sleep-walking here!

In the late afternoon we reached the outermost point of Loch Torridon and turned our bows to the north.  A steady breeze at our backs made for good speed as we set out.  Away to the west lay the distant silhouette of Skye's Trotternish peninsula.  As we moved out into open water the swell and wind increased and all my imaes of the crossing were spoiled by water splashing onto the camera lens - it was good fun though and we made cracking speed towards our camp.

Falling over on a Stag night

I recently did an overnight kayak trip in Outer Loch Torridon, setting out from Shieldaig on a bright afternoon.  Cloudbanks away to the northwest looked a bit ominous, but the weather in Loch Shieldaig (from the Norse Sild Vik - Herring Bay) was fine.  As things were to turn out, I should have made the most of the sunshine.....  Some days or trips just end up being a succession of challenges, and this was one of those occasions.

My destination was the former Youth Hostel at Craig, which was turned over to the Mountain Bothies Association in 2006 having been decommissioned as a Youth Hostel in 2003.  Having arrived at Shieldaig later than I'd planned I hurried through loading the boat which resulted in it feeling a little "down by the head" and made for hard work paddling the two hours or so towards the bothy.  As I headed out from the shelter of Loch Shieldaig (which is actually the middle part of Loch Torridon) the sea got up a bit but nothing too concerning.  The wind had swung to the northwest and the clouds had become very dark looking and heading towards me.

All the photographs below were taken on the following morning.

 

This is the boulder beach below Craig at near high water approximately mid way through the neap/spring cycle.  When I arrived (30 minutes prior to sunset) it was near to low water and a small swell of about 0.5 metres was washing directly onto the beach. I also arrived at the same time as a torrential rainstorm. The landing with a heavy boat was a little tricky and I struggled a bit to stop the boat from broaching as I tried to minimise the amount of banging on the boulders.

Having dragged the boat clear of the water on barnacle covered boulders I started to unload the contents into bags to get my kit above the HW line before moving the boat.  The rain was absolutely lashing down at this point which probably contributed to the next mishap.

I moved up the beach to a point where the barnacle covered rocks gave way to smooth and rounded sandstone boulders about the size of melons.  Immediately I stepped onto this part of the beach I took a crashing fall, my feet competely whipped from under me by the lethally slippery boulders which were covered in a green sheen of weed.  It was several minutes before I could move, such was the impact of the fall and I consider that I was pretty lucky to have escaped with just a bruised forearm.  The rain had now reached a real intensity and my kit was scattered about on the rocks.  I gathered everything (including, sadly, a broken bottle of wine...) and moved carefully up the beach before returning to move the boat.  This was a really frustrating job; I didn't dare pick it up to go across the slippery zone of the beach and ended up dragging it whilst sitting on the ground.  Eventually everything was above the HW mark and I could set off to find the bothy.

In hillwalking lore, bothy doors rank as some of the most difficult targets to navigate to, and Craig proved no exception.  I'd taken so long to sort out the mess on the beach that it was now fairly dark and still raining, though thankfully not as heavily.  The ground had become very flooded and I set off up the hill to try to locate the bothy which was about a kilometre away.  The building lies in a a dip above a river, which is itself in a bit of a gorge.  Below the bothy and stretching almost to the beach is a straggling wood of birch and willow.  It all made for an interesting navigational exercise!  Eventually the door was located and unsurprisingly I was the only occupant.

I quickly got my stove sorted and made a cup of tea, then got the woodburner lit, mentally thanking the previous occupants for leaving some dry wood.  Candles were lit and as the downstairs room warmed up I took off my paddling kit and went upstairs to get a sleeping spot chosen.  At this point I realised that I'd left my sleeping bag and Thermarest back at the boat, a kilometre down the wet and dark hillside - it really was one of those days!

Back into wet kit, a log onto the woodburner to keep it going, candles in every window to aid my return and off I went back down the hill.  Half way down I smelled burning and my headtorch went out.  A wiggle of the wires and it came back on; fortunately I had a small reserve headtorch in my pocket.  Having retrieved the missing kit I slogged back up to the bothy and back out of the wet kit.  An examination of the headtorch revealed that the cable insulation had broken down allowing a short circuit.  After seven years heavy use, I suppose I can hardly complain.



                                                                             

The main room of Craig has an impressive celtic mural, echoed on the door and window lintels.  It's a real 5 star bothy with real bedframes upstairs and a bucket flush loo at the back.  I got a meal cooked and was able to chuckle at the day's events.  No wine, but a warm room and a hot chocolate drink made a good nightcap.

 After the rain stopped, it became obvious that the Red Deer rut was in full swing; several stags were roaring on the hillside beyond the bothy.  Late in the evening the rain started again and things quietened down.  I bedded down in the smallest of the upstairs rooms (the small rooflight window in this picure) and dropped into a sound sleep.

Sleep was shattered about 3am when a very large stag (the deepest one of several I'd heard earlier)  roared just a few feet from the bothy door.  Although I knew instantly what it was, it's fair to say it gave me a start - at a distance the roar is impressive, this close it was a primal shockwave of a sound.  After I'd gone to the window with a torch he moved away a little and all the roaring subsided a bit.  It took a little longer for my heart-rate to subside and sleep to return though!

Shieldaig

The final community on my trip was Shieldaig, sheltered in Loch Shieldaig. The name is from Old Norse Sild Vik "Herring Bay", though herring are no longer fished from here. It's a pretty village in a spectacular setting.



I enjoyed a pint of Black Cuillin ale outside the Tigh an Eilean Hotel
and enjoyed the pleasant afternoon sunshine. The ale was very nice, and it seems to me that the hotel is a great sea-kayaking pub, but it must await rating by the staff of seakayakphoto.com
in due course!





I was accompanied back to the shore by this fine chap; a Springer Spaniel with three legs. Despite a missing front leg, he can certainly get about, and was very keen to come with me either by swimming or by getting in the boat with me. He looked genuinely disappointed to be left behind...

I left the shelter of Loch Shieldaig and headed back along Upper Loch Torridon into a stiffening headwind. There were great views of the mountains - here Beinn Alligin from a different angle. The headwind increased rapidly to Force 5-6 and it became very difficult to make any progress. Eventually I got back to Torridon village, tired but very pleased with a great day paddle of 38km. All that remained was the four hour drive home...

Enfolded By Arms Of Naked Rock

Continuing to the the north west, a succession of rocky bluffs are passed. Ahead, Tom na Gruagaich of Beinn Alligin (Hill of the Maiden, Jewelled Mountain) was just clearing the cloud.




Around a final point, I entered Loch Diabaig. I have an out-of-print guidebook to the West Highlands written by the late W.H. (Bill) Murray, one of Scotland's great writers, in which he describes Loch Diabaig as "a mile long bay of outer Loch Torridon enfolded by arms of naked rock". It's a good description; no photograph I could take showed properly the setting of the village in it's sheltering rocky arms.




Bill Murray also wrote of the community itself; "On a coast where loveliness is met at every turn, Diabaig is remarkable".

I paddled into the shelter of a fine stone pier and landed on the beach to explore a little.

The Lost Community of Loch Torridon

The rocky point on the north shore of the kyle between Upper Loch Torridon and Loch Shieldaig is called Rubha na h-Airde Glaise (point of the grey height). It has a small flat area right on the edge, formed from glaciated slabs with a skin of turf. Here there was a community; the walls of several houses are visible and a larger enclosure which may have been either a small animal enclosure or a larger building.

I've been told that it may have been a fishing station, and I've also read that there may have been a Inn here.




On the pebble beach, a boat "noust" has been made from large boulders. It must have taken quite an effort to make, as I'm sure some of the boulders will have been washed away in stormy weather. This community was clearly a going concern, but like so many up and down this coast is now just an echo in a "ruckle o' stanes".




This ruin is on a slab right on the very tip of the point. It has a wide view out to sea, and up Loch Torridon, but must have been a windy place to live.

I'm always intrigued by these visible marks of past lives; who were the people who lived, laughed loved and died here? How did they come to be living on this exposed point, was it by choice or necessity? So many questions from a few old walls.

Some of the information about this place was kindly provided by Steve Carter, who runs a website about Torridon and Shieldaig with loads of information and some stunning photographs.

Having contemplated times past, it was time to move on; out into Loch Torridon proper and the next community.

Loch Torridon Communities - the Upper Loch

On the one day of predicted good weather in the week prior to Easter, I left home at 0545 and arrived at Torridon mid morning. The plan was to explore the area using first the ebb tide to get out to Loch Shieldaig, then the flood on the return run.

Loch Torridon is divided into three parts. From seaward they are Loch Torridon, Loch Shieldaig and Upper Loch Torridon. The upper loch is surrounded by some iconic mountains; Liathach, Beinn Dearg and Beinn Alligin.

I started out from Torridon village and headed along in heavy rain showers to the first community - Inveralligin.




This painting of a Puffin was on a rocky point - perhaps painted by a tour boat's crew so they could guarantee a sighting to their passengers?!





Nearby, a band of feral goats were eating the seaweed exposed towards the Spring low tide.




They clearly do well here as there were several kids amongst the group.

Upper Loch Torridon is separated from Loch Shieldaig by a narrow kyle, through which the ebb, now in it's last two hours, carried me swiftly.

The next community I was to visit was one I'd not known about before, a lost community.