Happy returns in Morar

The first few months of 2024 have seen some really poor weather conditions in Scotland.  In the north-east of the country it was the wettest winter for many years and April was the coldest since 1905!  When the forecast for the first few days of May showed warm and settled conditions on the west coast, Douglas and I made plans for a few days sea kayak camping.

We met at Mallaig mid-morning on a glorious day.  A glance at the map shows how well positioned Mallaig is to access superb sea kayaking routes.  Our plan would be very flexible and would largely be dictated by a forecast of variable winds from a generally easterly direction.  Before packing our boats we took second breakfast of croissants and pains au chocolate with coffee from the excellent Mallaig Bakehouse and also bought a large focaccia bread to accompany dinner.

 We were on the water and away shortly after noon and enjoyed a leisurely few hours paddle towards our first planned camp.  As we'd both had long-ish drives to reach Mallaig we had no intention of pushing hard to make distance, it just wasn't that sort of a day.  A light breeze from astern helped push us gently along as we paddle-sailed a shoreline alive with the sounds of Willow Warblers and echoing to the calls of Cuckoos.

Arriving at a camp we've used before is a bit like meeting an old friend; one looks for the subtle changes and reminisces about good times.  We were pleased to see not much had changed here and that the bracken hadn't started reaching up, making for a better range of pitches.  We got our tents up, enjoyed a coffee and then went for a walk.  Douglas and I both enjoy the off-water parts of a sea kayak trip as much as the paddling, exploring and just being in a place adds so much to the experience.

We climbed above the shore and through woods of birch and oak to a stretch of higher ground which had clear signs that this now deserted shore was once worked by a community.  "Run Rig" furrow marks were everywhere, testament to back-breaking work over generations to make something of the poor, acid soils by fertilising with seaweed and dung.

Croft houses, some little more than a gable or a "rickle o'stanes" dot the ground near the shore.  It's likely that the occupants had been moved from better agricultural ground inland to theses far edges to make way for sheep in the years of the Clearances.  The houses had a superb situation, but a view won't feed your family and this was subsistence living at the extreme with starvation an ever-present threat.

Near the ruins of a more substantial house was this tractor which is slowly being consumed by rust and the boggy ground.  We could make out that the engine was a Standard make, but little else - it would be fascinating to learn something of its story.

Just around here we were treated to one of the experiences which really make a trip.  Overhead we heard the distinctive "kyow-kyow" call of a White Tailed Eagle.  looking up we saw not one but two birds flying purposefully overhead.  But things got even better; a third, absolutely huge eagle (an adult female we think) launched from a nearby crag and engaged the two overflying birds.  Twisting in mid-air and presenting its talons seemed to intimidate the two birds which flew quickly off.  Then the third bird was harried relentlessly by a pair of Ravens which mobbed it all the way back to the crag - it was a great wildlife spectacle!

It was only four or so hours into our trip but already it felt that we'd been amply rewarded for making the effort to get out!  Returning to our camp we gathered driftwood and some fallen birch branches for a fire and started to think about getting dinner prepared....

Physically distanced above the Gairn

The gradual easing of lockdown has permitted travel farther afield for recreation and though our local "patch" has been full of interest and given great days of walking, it has been good to have some more freedom.  I met Allan and Lorna for a walk in the final days prior to the travel restriction end - we met up above the River Gairn which is more than the suggested 5 miles from home, but still local - and we have to travel more than 5 miles to shops anyway!

A SWRS sign leaning at a jaunty angle (it sees huge piles of snow here in the winter) indicates the route of a path to Tomintoul via Inchrory and the Avon and to Corgarff - the B976 Crathie to Gairnshiel road where we parked is on the line of a military road constructed in the 1700's.

A 450m high starting point gets you good views right from the start!  An overcast morning was forecast to develop into a very warm day and off to the south the cloud was already lifting from the summit of Lochnagar as we set out.

A gentle climb on an old track through the ruins of a township,over a subsidiary hill and then a couple of kilometres across wind-clipped heather soon brought us to the one hill on our planned route - Tom Breac (Speckled Hill).  I've climbed this hill previously and remarked on the views it offers - and today they were equally special. The sense of space and big sky is a real feature of this part of the eastern Highlands, it really is great walking country.  I was surprised to look back through the blog and see that my last visit here was 2011, where does the time go?

We stopped for coffee and to take in the view near the 696m/2283ft summit, a place which seems to be rarely visited by hillwalkers but more regularly by estate workers, there are a number of vehicle tracks here.  The sprawling mountain in the distance is Ben Avon (pronounced A'an), a giant among hills and which is visible from all across the north east when you get to any sort of height.

We were reversing my 2011 route and can report that this clockwise option is the better  way to climb Tom Breac, it's preferable to the stiff climb out from the valley of the Gairn.  As we descended the weather became very warm and the cloud cleared.  Lorna spotted a large Adder moving off the track just in front of us - sunny mornings are a good time to spot these beautiful creatures as they warm up on the stones of tracks.

We headed down to the River Gairn, a wild and relatively unfrequented river, towards the remains of Corndavon Lodge which must have been quite a place in its heyday - half of the building was destroyed by fire.  What remains is occasionally used as a luncheon spot for shooting parties on the Invercauld estate.  the splendid bridge over the river is new since 2011, my last crossing was on a shoogly wooden affair.  That said, an estate vehicle chose to ford the river rather than cross the bridge as there is some erosion near the ends of the structure.

A last look up Glen Gairn to Ben Avon, and another view full of space.  The plantings alongside the river are mixed native broadleaf and pine, planted has been aided by a charity with the intention of improving the habitat for freshwater molluscs.  Other work has been done on the river itself - large pine tree root-plates and stumps have been strategically placed in the water and backed by boulders with the intention of slowing the flow and creating gravelly pools for Salmon and Trout to spawn.  Years of milder winters have led to changes in the flow of the Gairn, reducing the volume quite significantly.

Our walk back to the starting point was on one of the smoothest estate tracks imaginable, which was welcome as it was now 26 degrees Celsius and pretty warm for walking.  The lower ground is dotted with former shielings and newer, but abandoned, farms, it must once have been quite well populated here.

Our route was 16 kilometres during which we saw just a couple of estate workers and a gamekeeper in his vehicle - a grand walk under blue skies and appropriately distanced from other folk!

Summer sojourn on the Moray Firth - Findochty to Sandend

In the last week of August a spell of warm and potentially settled weather was forecast. High pressure dominated the weather across the British Isles but there was some doubt as to where the centre would be - and that could mean windy conditions would encroach from the west. Allan, Lorna and I were keen for a multi-day sea kayak trip somewhere and discussed several different locations. In the end we decided that hte best chance of good weather over a period of three or four days was actually quite close to home on the Moray Firth. Wild camping is possible on this coast but it would mean a long linear trip; we opted to use a fixed base at a camp site in a central position.

Our friend Douglas was due to join us but couldn't make it due to an unavoidable engagement but we were delighted that Raymond could join us for two of the three days paddling.

We met up in Findochty on a very warm morning, there was almost no wind and not a cloud in the sky.  Even though the Moray Firth coast gets some of the best weather in Scotland, you never take days like these as a given!  We ran a shuttle ahead to Sandend where we would camp so that we'd just have day kit in the boats and were soon ready to set out.

We left the harbour and turned east.  The coast immediately becomes engaging, the rock architecture dramatic.  The seabirds which nest in their multitudes all along this stretch had mostly completed their breeding cycles, just a few pairs had well-grown chicks still in the nest.....the evidence of their summer occupation was plain to see on the guano-stained rock though.

Looking back to Findochty the most prominent building is the Church of Scotland church, a white painted building on an elevated site overlooking the harbour.  Completed in 1863, it served Findochty when the town was a thriving and busy fishing port.  Until a bell was installed in 1877 worshippers were called to kirk by a foghorn! 

The church would have been a landmark for the fishing fleet, at that time mostly rowed vessels and a magnet for fishermen on Sundays when all the boats would be in port.  We were approaching one of our favourite places - a landmark in its own right and a magnet for any sea kayaker or photographer visiting this area...

The graceful arch of the Bow Fiddle is a highlight of any trip here, and we always paddle it if conditions allow.  As for many folk, Raymond's reaction on turning a corner to look straight through was one of amazement.  As he'd not paddled it previously we hung back to allow him to experience passing under the graceful blade of rock above a smooth slab - it's a fantastic place to be in a kayak!

We all followed Raymond in "stringing the bow" out into open water.  The Bow Fiddle is so named due to its resemblance to the tip of the bow used to play a fiddle.  Nearby is another special place with an evocative name - the "Whale's Mou" (mouth), a huge sea cave with a natural window in one side and a narrow exit at the landward side.  Naturally, we explored that too!

We continued across Cullen Bay in conditions which had now gone from warm to hot, landed for a leg-stretch east of Cullen and then continued around to the Logie Head, a fissured prow of pale grey rock popular with climbers.  The Logie Head marks a change in rock type from the reddish Cullen Quartzite (which is metamorphised sandstone) to Greywacke.  Nearby is another change, the boundary between Morayshire to the west and Aberdeenshire to the east.

East again we landed for a coffee at the beautiful Sunnyside Beach.  Today it was very benign but landing here can be surprisingly difficult.  t higher states of tide the sandy curve of the beach looks very inviting but there are sharp reefs to negotiate, like the one in the foreground in this image, and the surf picks up alarmingly close to the shore.  No such problems today, we landed easily and joined other beach-goers on what was one of the best afternoons of the whole summer.

One of the great features of this part of the Aberdeenshire coast is Findlater Castle which today was lit superbly by the high afternoon sun.  You have to admire the vision of the person who said "I kow, we'll build it right there"!

Just beyond Findlater we met a group of paddle-boarders on a trip out from Sandend.  A cave-arch here is a hidden feature with superb lighting in sunny conditions, the water crystal clear and lit turquoise.







We were now on the last section of our day's paddle.  We think that the section of coast from Findochty to Sandend is the equal of anything in Scotland for variety and features (but we're a bit biased as it's pretty local for us!).  There were still some highlights left to enjoy though....starting with a turn in to a narrow geo.  There are several similar entrances, but once you know the correct way in......

....you enter a series of narrow channels behind masses of rock.  This is paddling right amongst and behind cliffs; one channel is barely shoulder width and is pasable only in perfct conditions.  Most of the others like this one will "go" in most conditions.  It's a great finale to a great stretch of coast for sea kayaking.

All too soon we landed in the tiny harbour at Sandend.  The camp site we'd be using is actually right behind to bech here, but first we drove back to Findochty to recover two cars left there.  The temperature at 5pm was 28 degrees Celsius, one of the warmest days of the year.  Summer sea kayaking doesn't get much better!

A thin skin over rock

Our camp at "Shoe Bay" had more than lived up to expectation and had been well worth the slog into a stiff breeze the evening before to get to this lovely spot. Our friend Tony was up early to paddle around Eilean Shona then back to Acharacle as he had to return to work in Glasgow.

 Lorna, Allan, Douglas and I had a more leisurely start while discussing plans. We all had an extra day available to paddle, but also all had reasons to head back home too. A forecast of strengthening wind in the afternoon into the following day made up our minds for us - we'd paddle up to the Sound of Arisaig and get off the water before the stronger wind arrived. After breakfast Douglas and I walked up behind the beach into the tangle of rock outcrops and hollows above.

There are clear reminders that this hasn't always been an empty place.  All that remains of this house is a chimney breast and a built up platform - there's little enough flat ground around here. Once the eye attunes to the surroundings the outlines of field boundaries and animal enclosures can be made out among the bracken and brambles which have now largely taken over.

If this house had to be built on a platform built by human hands, in some places it was possible for the inhabitants to use what they found in unique ways....

This well-built house initially appears to be similar to other ruins up and down this part of the coast...but look at the gable end and something remarkable emerges.  The lower half of the gable end across the width of the house is one huge tilted boulder.

This view from above shows the size of the boulder.  Apart from giving something to build against the boulder is at the west end of the house, in other words at the weather side, which must have helped to windproof it to a degree.  The drystone work on the other three walls is really fine work and features quite large window apertures and the rounded corners which are a feature of many of the old buildings on this part of the coast.

This could never have been an easy place in which to scratch a living.  The ground is either boggy or a thin skin of peat over rock, the coast exposed to gale and storm and access is less than easy.  Some of the former inhabitants may have been pushed off better ground to make what they could of this place....their fields and houses are now part of that thin skin of history over the rock.

The view is superb, but a view won't put food in your family's bellies.  As ever when among these remnants of communities my mind tried to imagine what life was like for the people who called this home...for all the distance in time and the trappings of the modern world, the motivations, emotions and hopes of their lives are surely not too far removed from our own at a fundamental level.

We returned thoughtfully to the beach and finished packing our boats.  We've stopped here many times and will do so again....it's a small jewel of a spot.

The stones and bell of St Finans Isle

We wouldn't dream of making a journey on Loch Shiel and not visiting st Finan's Isle.  The island is named for Finan, a saint of the early Celtic church who was also known as "Finan the Leper" from the disease which afflicted him.  Details of his life aren't completely clear but he is believed to have followed Columba from Ireland and became Abbot of the monastery he established on this small island.  He lived from around 520-600AD and is thought to have died at Clonmore in his native Ireland.

The location of the monastery may seem withdrawn and remote to the modern mind, but in Finan's time waterways were the main method of travel and this island was on a main travel route.  Finan is believed to have carried Christianity into much of Argyllshire and further afield, apart from the nearby Glenfinnan and Kilfinnan his name crops up in places such as St Finzean's Fair in Perth and Finzean in distant Aberdeenshire.  The names of these early pioneers from the Celtic church reach out across what were the Pictish kingdoms as he church made a determined effort to convert the Picts.

The island has been in use as a holy place down 1200 years, firstly as a monastery and then as a graveyard - use which continues to the present day.

One of the most prominent monuments on the island is a celtic cross commemorating the Rev Charles McDonald, priest of the diocese of Argyll and the Isles.  The stonework is really fine (some closer views of this side of the stone are here)......

......and the reverse side of the column is hardly plain.

The oldest of the grave markers are grouped together near to the summit of the domed island, simple slabs of stone, some of which my have borne inscriptions.

Occupying the only flat ground near the top is the ruined stone buildings which succeeded the timber and thatch of the earlier monastery buildings.  It's a simple enough complex of two stone buildings, one of which was a chapel, but there are remarkable artefacts here.

In an alcove at the end of the chapel is a very old cross with a crucifixion image on it.  Worn and weathered, it exudes age.  A wooden boat shaped vessel at the foot of the cross often has coins left on it - today there was the stump of a votive candle.  This cross alone would be an important artefact...but it's what is on the alter stone next to it which makes this such a special site.

This hand bell is cast in seamless bronze and was produced in the 10th century.  For 1100 years it has been here, surviving Viking raids, countless wars and local feuds and the upheavals within both church and state in the intervening period.

Almost anywhere else this might have been removed by theft or taken away to a museum many miles away....but it's still here, secured by a chain to the altar it has been associated with for all the centuries......just remarkable and quite uplifting.  Of course, there's a curse associated with it; whoever would remove it would have a very short and painful existence awaiting them!  Astonishingly, this 1100 year old bell rings as clear and true as the day it was cast and finished....as we can confirm having rung it on a previous visit.....how many modern products will still be fully functional in a century's time?!

As with each visit we make to this special place, we left the chapel with a sense of calm and thoughtfulness. 

Descending around the summit area, one of the older grave slabs bears a vivid representation of mortality - our forebears were somewhat more pragmatic about such things it seems.

Heading back to our boats the path goes through a group of stones which look really old but are believed to date from the 18th century....quite late in the history of this place.  They certainly are a good fit here though.

A little way above the jetty is (to my knowledge) the only war grave on St Finan's Isle.  The stone commemorates Deckhand Dugald Grant, son of Peter Grant of Dalilea, Glenfinnan, who died whilst serving in HMS Vernon, the Royal Navy's torpedo and mine warfare school in Portsmouth.  The record on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website is, as so often, both poignant and fascinating. 

We returned to our boats, each of us with our own thoughts and memories of Eilean Fhianain, for all of us it remains a compelling place to visit.  For now though, our thoughts turned from the past to the future - it was time to get back onto the water.

A "mamba" Munro and the simple joy of a path

I slept deeply and long at the Tarf Hotel, waking 8am, an unusually late hour for me. A combination of tiredness after a long day and the deep silence of these empty miles on a calm night, plus the absence of the usual bothy mice rustling about were all factors.  I felt refreshed but a bit slow when I got up, and it was after 9am when I set out into a morning with a lid on it.  Cloud levels were down to just above the bothy, the air was still and had that heaviness which often characterises the month of August in the Highlands.  A look back at Feith Uaine; splendid isolation and a haven in truly wild country.

I followed the Tarf Water downstream for a short distance before striking off up a side stream.  A little way up the hill I passed a ruined shieling, evidence that this hasn't always been an empty landscape.  Shielings were summer dwellings used in the traditional transhumance of people and beasts to higher pasture in the summer months.  Sited in the crook of a burn (stream) on relatively level ground, its interesting that the surrounding ground is an area of grass among square miles of heather and moss - I wonder whether the site was chosen for this characteristic, or if the ground was cleared of heather to provide better grazing for the cattle?

Continuing uphill on increasingly rough and difficult terrain brought me to a huge area of peat hags and wet ground.  scattered through the peat hags were the bleached roots and stumps of a long-gone pine forest which once covered the land.  A combination of a cooling climate and felling for timber destroyed these forests - allowing the build up of peat which has left vast areas of empty country.

Soon after this image was taken I walked up into the cloudbase and visibility was reduced to less than 50 metres.  I continued to follow a tiny burn uphill until I reached a bealach (col) between the Munros of Carn an Fhidleir and An Sgarsoch - and also on the Perthshire/Aberdeenshire boundary.  I now had a decision to make.  My next destination was a path which reaches high up the Geldie Burn and lay 3 kilometres to the north of the bealach.  I could either continue a traverse across steep, rough, wet and pathless terrain in low visibility to locate this path, or go over the summit of An Sgarsoch.  The latter route would add a kilometre in distance and 300 metres/1000ft of climbing but would make for easier walking and navigation, despite the additional climb.  After a little deliberation I chose the route over An Sgarsoch and began the steep climb up a broad ridge of grass and moss.

The challenge of accurate map and compass navigation in poor visibility is something I enjoy to a certain extent.  Although carrying a GPS receiver in my kit I resisted using it and was pleased to arrive right at the summit cairn.  An Sgarsoch (the place of sharp rocks) is 1006m/3300ft and one of the more remote Munros.  The last time I climbed this hill I recorded in my journal having a good view, but no such luck this time; the inside of one cloud looks pretty similar to the inside of another!

Unusually for a Munro there's very little in the way of paths on the hill so my navigation still had to be accurate.  I elected to head due north to reach the bump of Sgarsoch Beag (little place of sharp rocks) from where I'd be able to head straight for the path.  This descent proved to be not straightforward as the ground falls away at unexpected angles.  Just as I was tempted to check my position by GPS the ground started to rise and I found the summit of Sgarsoch Beag.

I came out of the cloud just above the path and dropped wearily down to it.  I'd had over four hours of pathless and rough ground, much of that time in poor visibility.  The simple pleasure of being able to relax and walk on a path felt really good, despite the long miles still to go with a full backpacking load.

The path leads to the ruing of Geldie Lodge, another former shooting lodge in a remote spot.  In contrast to the atmosphere of Bynack Lodge, I've always found this place to be an austere setting.  Just below the lodge there's a crossing of the Geldie which leads to the start of a track heading back towards Linn of Dee.

It would have been tempting to have thought the route to be just about finished, but it's 12 kilometres from Geldie Lodge to Linn of Dee, a long way when already tired.  My usual routine on the hill with day kit is to take a short rest every couple of hours or when exploring something interesting; if carrying backpacking kit it's usually a short rest each hour.  My pace dropped on this route back and I found myself having to dig deep.  On the last stretch from White Bridge to Linn of Dee I was resting every ten minutes - I've rarely been so utterly done at the end of a two day route.

This trip into "mamba" country had been a real pleasure, apart from at the start and end I saw not another person in 55 kilometres of walking.  If solitude is your thing - you'll usually find it at the headwaters of the Tarf and Geldie.

Destination "mamba"

Late August in Scotland.  The hills are covered with the purple shades of heather, the sun shines on long days and all things seem possible.  Or......the midges are at their worst, the weather is muggy and oppressive and a heavy green and grey cloak covers the hills.  Towards the end of the month it seemed that there would be a bit of all of these things.  I'd initially planned a sea kayak trip but realised that forecast light winds and overcast conditions along the coasts would mean midge purgatory.

So, I looked for a backpacking trip which would give the opportunity of at least one night in a bothy, giving respite from the biting hordes.  The journey I settled on would take me into some of the most remote country Scotland has to offer - I'd need to be completely self sufficient in shelter and food so that if I didn't make the planned route I could still camp and be relatively comfortable.

Linn of Dee is the starting point for many long walks; to the north you can head off on some of the best known treks in the country; through the Cairngorms from Deeside to Speyside via the Lairig Ghru or the Lairig an Laoigh; or onto the great plateaux of the eastern Cairngorms and over to Donside perhaps.

Heading west, the choice is hardly less enticing - the routes shown on the Scottish Rights of Way Society sign indicate an alternative start to reach the Lairig Ghru and two great through-routes towards the west.

Anyone heading off on these journeys will enter true wild country, and though there are either tracks or defined paths the whole way, the challenges of distance and weather can test the strongest walkers.  Then there are the rivers - the routes to the west require crossings of water which can be running hard and fast; and there are no bridges over two of the most significant rivers.

My plan was to take the first part of the route from Linn of Dee to Blair Atholl, then head into the trackless country west of Glen Tilt to visit one of the most remote of bothies.  This view shows just the first few miles of my route, up the River Dee to the hills beyond.

The first significant river crossing at least has a bridge - White Bridge crosses the Dee and is a meeting point of tracks and paths (though it's not white!).

The view up the valley of the infant River Dee is one of glimpsed giants.  To the left, Beinn Bhrotain at 1108m/3635ft with the flank of the Devil's Point and Cairn Toul beyond -big hills for big days.

After such a dry summer I was confident of finding the water in the next river, the Geldie Burn, low - but I can't ever recall seeing it so low.  The Geldie is termed a "burn" (stream), but make no mistake, this is usually a river and it runs hard and deep in wet weather or during snowmelt; it's often impossible to cross safely and there are no bridges over it.  I've several times arrived here and found it birling along with an ominous rumbling sound of boulders being rolled along its bed - a crossing to treat with caution in normal conditions.

From here on I was entering "mamba" country.  Not referring to venomous snakes, thank goodness, the word is an acronym possibly coined by servicemen sent from southern England to serve in the Highlands and Islands during the Second World War.  "Mamba" stands for Miles and Miles of B*gger All !

Beyond the Geldie a substantial ruin stands in a patch of green sward, a bright spot among the heather.  This is (or was) Bynack Lodge, a ruined 19th century shooting lodge from the days of the great estates.  Perhaps it's the green setting or the trees surrounding the ruin, mainly pines and sycamores, which make this such a pleasant spot; I've always found this ruin a place of peace and have camped here several times.

The ruin has been stabilised by Mar Lodge estate and you can see some of the brickwork used to support the mortared rubble original wall.  There are actually a few ruins here, one building was a game larder with a subterranean meat store, there was a separate building which may have accommodated the staff, traces of kennels, a stable and even a walled garden.

One slightly surreal but enjoyable experience I had here was watching the balcony scene from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" being performed using the window sill in the left of this image as the balcony - and that can't have happened too many times!

After a final glance through the arched wall aperture back down the Bynack Burn towards Geldie I hoisted my rucksack and headed onwards; there was still a long way to go today, much of it "mamba".