Signs of previous visitors to the Sound of Arisaig

Leaving Port an t-Sluichd I crossed to the north shore of the Sound of Arisaig on my return leg.  The transit for the crossing was pretty straightforward - aim for the Rum Cuillin beyond!

 I arrived at Eilean a'Ghaill for a lunch break.  There were two other paddlers there already and we wandered up to the summit of the island to check out the remains of the hillfort.  We didn't find the stone lined well, but the remains for the walls can be traced.  Interestingly the name translates as "Island of the Strangers", so perhaps this was an outpost of different folk from those originally here - it would be fascinating to know who built the fort and where they came from.

Whoever they were, the site they chose is a good vantage point. The view takes in the whole of the Sound of Arisaig, to Moidart and Ardnamurchan in the south, back to Loch nan Uamh and Loch Ailort (above)

And west to the open sea, the island of Eigg and beyond to Rum.

Some signs of previous visitors to the area are less welcome than the hillforts which dot the coastline.  Those folk who know this beach and campsite will no doubt have fond memories of it.

Unfortunately, the signs of previous visitors here now include a fire ring in the fragile turf above the high water mark in which a quantity of plastic has been burned along with firewood.  This is a popular spot, one can walk or kayak to it relatively easily and it's white sand backed by level turf makes it most attractive.  It gets use from both individuals and increasingly by commercial sea kayaking groups.

It's not possible to tell who lit this fire; commercial groups generally abide by acceptable low-impact practice as far as possible, and all the sea-kayakers and walkers whom I know wouldn't light a fire above the HW mark.  It's a real shame, and the damage will take some time to repair.

Exploring Loch nan Uamh

After a comfortable night I awoke to a fine morning. The early sun hadn't reached the beach where my boat was pulled up so it was a quick start to get onto the water and away.  The temperature rose instantly as I paddled into the sunshine, much better!

I planned a paddle to the head of Loch nan Uamh (loch of the caves) visiting the Borrodale Islands en route. This loch has strong connections with the Jacobite uprising of 1745; there's a cave supposedly used by the Prince (one of many) and a cairn on the northern shore marks the spot where Charles Edward Stuart finally left Scotland on a French ship on 20 September 1746 after the failed enterprise.  The Highlands he left behind would never be the same again.

On one of the Borrodale islands, a dead Rowan tree had been sculpted by the prevailing wind.  Red deer regularly swim out to the islands to graze on the lush vegetation, on some of them this hampers regeneration of small trees.  Later in the day I watched two hinds swim strongly across 500 metres of open water back to the mainland shore with no problem at all.

Along the northern shore of the loch there are some areas of contorted rock, the bedding planes twisted and fractured into swooping lines.  This is a really pleasant stretch of sea loch shore with broadleaf woods down to the water, small bays and inlets together with small islands.  A day could easily be spent here on a leisurely exploration, and as a bonus it gets sunshine for most of the day.

At the head of the loch the main A830 "Road to the Isles" and the West Highland railway line come together as they squeeze through the rocky terrain on their ways from Fort William to Mallaig, the road passing under the far end of this railway viaduct.  The viaduct seems to appear and disappear into solid rock - the whole line is an amazing feat of engineering and sheer perseverance.  It's thought that the solid section of the viaduct may have been built as a result of an arch collapsing during the building process.  X-ray scans have shown the remains of a horse and cart which fell into the pier during construction.

I headed back down the loch along the steep southern shore, an altogether different place than the gentle northern side.  Here the cliffs fall sheer into the water and there are few landing places for sea-kayakers.  There are plenty for Sea Eagles though; this young bird was perched on an outcrop, and flew over me to land again a few yards behind.  It's so good to see these great birds doing well again.

Near the mouth of the loch is an inlet called Port an t-Sluichd (port of the gut, or gullet).  When Dave and I had passed a couple of weeks previously the swell prevented landing here but today was perfectly calm.  In the small bay a low pier of stones had been made to land boats on.

Ruined buildings showed that once there was a community here.  There are about eight sizeable buildings, similar in construction to the ones at nearby Peanmeanach in having rounded corners to the walls to better resist the wind.  there would have been some rough grazing for a few cattle, there are some areas which may have been under cultivation, and probably some subsistence fishing.  It's quite an isolated spot and life could never have been easy, but a community did live their lives here.  In many ways, the end of the Jacobite rebellion signalled the beginning of the end for many of these communities.

All clear at Arisaig

Two weeks after Dave and I had experienced grey skies and windy conditions in Loch Ailort, I was back in roughly the same area, setting off from Arisaig this time. The weather was somewhat different....

Clear blue skies and light winds!  Over Rois Bheinn a cloud cap added drama to the scene but brought no rain. There was even warmth in the late September sunshine.

Naturally, i wasn't the only one to spot the opportunity of a good couple of days of weather.  Chris, Matthew and Barabara were starting a weekend trip southwards to Moidart.  We were heading the same way for a while and chatted as we went, just enjoying being out on this lovely afternoon.

Soon after we went our separate ways, I paused at a beach to get wood for the evening's fire.  The storm line on this particular pebble beach was full of dry driftwood - a quarter of an hour's work with a folding saw and I had enough for the night and extra to leave in the bothy for the next folk.

Some wood went inside the boat, the rest as a rather inelegant deck cargo; fortunately I didn't have too far to go!

Settled in the bothy, stove lit and dinner taken, I sat outside with a dram and watched a quiet sunset turn the world to shades of bronze.  An otter swam across the bay in front of me and all was quiet except for the occasional bird call and a very gentle sigh from the lapping of the water on the shingle.  It really was a quite beautiful evening.

As the sunset faded, the moon brightened, already low in the sky and setting.  The sky cleared during the late evening and after the moon set the stars were amazing, a huge swathe of the milky way above me.  I didn't really need a weather forecast from the radio, all was set clear.

Jammin'

Late summer and autumn provides the opportunity to make jam and preserves for the winter and beyond.  We've been busy over the last few weeks making Blueberry jam, Raspberry jam and Rowan & Apple jelly.

The Raspberries are from local fruit farms- Aberdeenshire and Perthshire are prime soft fruit growing areas; the Blueberries are from the supermarket and the Rowan (Sorbus) berries are from the garden.

We've now got a cupboard full of jars!

Bennachie stones

The Aberdeenshire hill of Bennachie makes an excellent short hillwalk. My friend Russ has recently moved to the area and on his day off we took the opportunity to climb the hill, taking in Millstone Hill first.  There are car parks and waymarked paths from most sides of Bennachie, we chose the Donview starting point for our walk.

The initial ascent to Millstone Hill is quite steep but relatively short, going up through lovely mixed woods of conifers, birch and rowan to emerge just below the summit.  We continued down to the bealach (col) between Millstone and Bennachie, known as the Heather Brig, before starting the climb up towards Bennachie itself.  Part way up we came across this millstone not far from the path.  I've climbed these hills many times and must have walked past this stone frequently without noticing it.

It's hewn from the granite of the hill and must have been one of countless stones produced here to grind the barley and oats produced on the farmalnd which surrounds this small group of hills.  Looking back, there's a nice view to the hill named for the stones.

The millstone was a little above the treeline in this view to Bennachie's "Mither Tap", which isn't the true summit of Bennachie but is certainly the best known and most prominent summit on the ridge, being visible from most of Aberdeenshire and beyond.  Bennachie is "Beinn a' Chioch (hill of the breast), for fairly obvious reasons.  It's a hill which I always look for, and one which, once spotted, conveys a sense of coming home.

A feature of the Mither Tap is the well-preserved Pictish hill-fort built around the summit tor. In sections the walls are still partly standing, and the entrance passage is very well preserved.  It seems likely that this fort was in use at least 2000 years ago.  There are the remains of at least ten buildings within the fort site and the walls were up to 6 metres thick and stood up to 5 metres tall - quite an impressive structure.  Most of the stone seems to have been brought up from much lower down the hill.

It has been speculated that the battle of Mons Graupius (which indirectly gave rise to the term "Grampians" to denote most of the high ground of the north east and Cairngorms) was fought here between local tribes and the Roman army.

We had time to speculate on this as we sat out a particularly heavy rain shower.  Bennachie is a popular hill and lots of people climb it from the various starting points, including today some quite small mountaineers enjoying the sense of achievement as five-year-old legs carried them in triumph to the very top!  Although a bit chilly and wet, the rain didn't seem to be putting the little guys off at all.

We continued along the ridge to Oxen Craig, the highest point of the ridge with great views over the River Don and over to the Cairngorm giants before descending back to the Heather Brig and contouring around Millstone Hill on forest tracks back to Donview - walking fast to evade the midges which are still about yet!

Wind and rain? Try coffee and cake!

The late afternoon sky above Moidart had shown plenty of signs of an impending change in the weather.  The forecast was still for southerly F4 winds at the last update we listened to before turning in for the night.

In the morning a look out to open water revealed a mass of whitecaps and squalls racing along.  As we had breakfast the maritime weather information broadcast came over the VHF - forecasting south to southeasterly F5 to 6 winds, increasing F7 later.  A quick planning session took place - we could use the topography to hop across the mouth of the two sea lochs which lay between us and Glenuig.  If the headland between them proved too difficult, a retreat up to the head of Loch nan Uamh would get us to a road were it would be possible to hitch a lift around to Glenuig to collect a car.

When  we got on the water we had a period of relative calm and pushed across Loch nan Uamh to the shelter of its southern side, where we enjoyed calm water and a blink of sunshine.  This craggy stretch of shore offers only marginal landing places so we headed on up to just before Rubha Chaolais, the headland separating Loch nan Uamh from Loch Ailort.  We'd  hoped to land for a break at Port an-t Sluichd (port of the gut or gullet) but a heavy swell wrapping around the headland prevented that.

As soon as we rounded the headland the fun started.  The wind was strong, but coming in rushing gusts and we could continue to make headway toward Loch Ailort.  As we got to the mouth of the loch, the wind increased slightly and could now be seen to be firmly south easterly.  Our hoped for shelter behind the islands was not to be!  The flood tide was just beginning; we'd pushed on early to avoid crossing this stretch in wind-against-tide rough water but still the odd wave broke onto us as we inched forward into the wind.

It took nearly two hours of solid effort to cover the 2.5km to the south shore of Loch Ailort near Roshven House.  The wind weemed to be pouring down from the corries of Rois-Bheinn in great gusts which at times stopped progress.  The wind strength was a solid F5, the gusts were certainly F6 and we were glad to have made our decision early - if the wind strength had increased "later" as forecast we wouldn't have been able to make progress against it. 

 

At last into shelter from the wind, we stopped for a break and to wash the salt from our faces and then paddled on towards Glenuig.  Above us the trees were roaring in the wind but it was calm along the shore.  It did seem to be getting very dark overhead though.....

The sky continued to darken as we approached our end point, then an absolute cloudburst drenched us as we were putting the boats back on the cars.  This seemed the perfect excuse to go along to the Glenuig Inn to enjoy excellent coffee and warm fruit cake!  The proprietor, Steve, is a sea kayaker and wildlife guide, the food great and the surroundings cosy - the perfect end to our trip (and we'll be back to sample the selection of real ales very soon!)

Fifty shades, but not all grey

The weather continued to be mostly grey and cloudy - but not without interest and drama.  Occasional breaks in the cloud backlit by the sun produced interesting effects of light and shade.

The coastline we were journeying along gave plenty of interest with islands, inlets and small beaches dotted along the way.  Our plan was to arrive at the small bothy where we'd spend the night, offload most of our kit then explore the surrounding area by kayak whilst collecting firewood and fresh water.

Along the shoreline there was plenty of rich colour to offset the grey of sky and sea.  The heather was still in luxuriant flower, set off by the intense greens of wet grasses and ferns.  Against the subdued light conditions of the wider view the splashes of colour in the smaller environment were all the more noticeable.

This is Bell Heather (Erica cinerea), one of two common species found across Scotland.  The drier moors of the eastern side of the country are coloured vibrant purple in late summer as Erica and the more widespread Ling species flower.

Close to the bothy a small group of oak trees were hosting this lichen which seemed to be thriving in the Atlantic temperate rainforest environment.

Close up, the lichen resembled miniature lettuce leaves.  Certainly we wouldn't need to experiment by trying some to see if it tasted like lettuce - we were well provisioned with fresh cooked food and wine to accompany our evening meal; one of the small luxuries of travelling by kayak!

We set out our sleeping stuff, made a cup of tea and then set out again to explore and collect firewood and fresh water.  Our small journey was only to be two nights but even in this short space of time, securing the simple requirements of shelter, food, water and warmth provided a pleasant order and structure to the day.

Twards evening the sky to the south showed signs of a change in the weather; still grey but with a steely appearance lowering towards the horizon.  The Inshore Waters forecast from the Met Office predicted south or southwest Force 4 winds for the morning.  We'd be paddling against any wind on the way back to our starting point, but Force 4 would be OK.

We got the bothy very cosy with the firewood we'd collected - in fact so cosy that we slept with the door open all night....   During the early hours the wind got up a bit, but a glance out through the window showed nothing but more shades of grey in the pre-dawn light.

Artists in residence

My friend Dave and I met up in Fort William on a late afternoon to start a two night journey in our kayaks, using bothies for our accommodation. By the time we'd done some shopping and grabbed someething to eat, then driven to our starting point at Glenuig it was about an hour before sunset on a damp, drizzly and misty evening. We paddled out into a marvellous stillness (and away from the midge hordes!). The drizzle died away to leave a world of monochrome, muted light and an almost complete lack of sound. Several times we stopped to experience this enclosed world with all our senses. The light faded quite quickly and we paddled on a compass bearing towards the bothy. Gradually we saw a gentle glow of light above the shore; other folks were already at the bothy so it would be warm and cosy when we arrived. We landed on the beach and wandered up, and were immediately welcomed into the warmth and glow of a warm room and a good fire. We deposited our bag of coal to add to the fuel and got our kit from the boats. Our fellow bothy-dwellers were a group of artists undertaking some transient sculpture projects in the area - a really nice crowd with whom we shared a great evening. These chance meetings are one of the real pleasures of bothying.

After a good night's sleep we awoke to a clearer morning.  It was still cloudy with the threat of rain but otherwise a good day.  This bothy sits on a meadow above a beach and was one of a number of crofts forming a small community.

All the other buildings are roofless ruins, a village of ghosts apart from the one homely hub of the bothy.  No road comes here and life could never have been easy.  The buildings generally have rounded corners to the drystone walls to better deflect the wind and would have been thatched "blackhouses".

The view from the door was pretty good - an occasional blink of sun lit the landscape with vivid colour whilst beyond, towards Ardnamurchan, curtains of rain and low cloud provided a blank backdrop to the colour.

On the shore, low tide revealed bright beds of weed with colours which seemed to glow in the diffuse light against the pale sand.  One of the group of artists was a photographer and was absorbed by the contrasts and the shifting light of the place.

Other colours were more subtle.  After breakfast we packed our boats for a leisurely paddle to our next night's accommodation.  We said goodbye to our artist friends and set off along the coast, enjoying the relaxed rhythm of the day and of the journey.