Powered up on Loch Ericht

After our hillwalking diversion we had a cup of tea on the shore before getting back on the water to complete our return leg up Loch Ericht to Dalwhinnie. Near to Corrievarkie is the turbine house for a hydro-electric power scheme.  This station produces 2.2MW of power and is fed from Loch Garry in the hills to the east of Loch Ericht.  There's a 55 metre height difference between the lochs which gives the "head" for the water.  This scheme is part of the larger and widespread Tummel hydro network.

A following breeze was very welcome and we hoisted our sails to get some assistance on the long run back up to Dalwhinnie.

Keeping to the eastern side of the loch, we got a good view of Ben Alder Lodge in its grand wooded setting below hillsides already touched by the blonde shades of autumn.  The stalking season would get into full swing a few days after our visit and there was plenty of activity on the estate road leading down the west shore from Dalwhinnie.

Not long after this image was taken the serene, pleasant paddle-sailing ended.  At a slight twist in the loch the wind began to blow in mighty gusts which were rolling down from the steep slopes to our right (east) side.  We assessed later that these might have been turbulent rolls of wind rushing downslope from the steady easterly flow over the high ground but whatever the cause, the effect was very dramatic.

Before we could drop our sails the wind caught our boats with considerable violence.  I was driven downwind at a terrific rate and had real concern about the sail and mast being torn from the hull of my boat.  For a few moments I had little or no control over either direction or speed and just hung on, bracing hard on the paddle with a rooster tail of spray tailing back from the submerged blade.  I glanced up at the top of my mast and wished that I hadn't, the whole thing was being forced into an arc by the pressure of wind.  As soon as it had started the gust subsided and we dropped our sails hastily.  Checking my GPS later, it had briefly recorded a speed of 15Km/h during this gust.

We continued to experience these gusts until near the top of the loch when the wind simply poured out of a valley, hammering across the loch and making for quite challenging conditions as it blew from the starboard quarter at a solid F6 for some ten minutes.  Then, as soon as we were out of the firing line of the valley, the wind subsided again to almost nothing.  Paddling on Loch Ericht needs careful planning, the orientation of the loch catches the prevailing wind but even in light crosswinds the topography will give tricky conditions at times, with the area between Ben Alder Bay and Corrievarkie seemingly a real wind tunnel.

As we approached the dam which holds the northern end of Loch Ericht our return was marked by the noise of traffic from the nearby A9 trunk road and the slightly strange sight of a Scotrail train belting north towards Inverness.

We pulled into the bay near the inflow of the aqueduct which brings water from Loch Cuaich on the other side of the road and railway.  The water in Loch Ericht is used in it's turn to feed the hydro electric power station on Loch Rannoch, and thence to Tummel in an interconnected hydro scheme.

Our paddle and hillwalking trip had been short in time, but we'd done quite a bit.  In a little over 24 hours we'd covered 47km/29 miles of paddling and done a 10Km hillwalk with around 550 metres of ascent.  Allan remarked wryly that I'd managed to plan three days of a trip into one overnight journey!

A glow at the end of a long day on Loch Ericht

Loch Ericht has been on my list of places to kayak for some time. A 23Km/14.5 mile long fresh water loch, it  is rarely wider than a kilometre wide and forms a long slash across the highlands.  It follows the general NE-SW orientation of highland faults and deep lochs and is flanked by mountains on either side for most of its length.   I've walked the hills above the loch and backpacked along one side on a long through-route, but not yet paddled on it.

Due to the orientation of the loch, it inevitably forms a wind-tunnel in the prevailing SW'ly winds.  Several tenuous plans to kayak here over a period of years had been abandoned when the wind just wasn't suitable.  But, as September turned to October a period of very light winds was forecast for the central Highlands which coincided with Allan and I being able to get away.....time for another adventure!

We drove to the village of Dalwhinnie at the north east end of the loch.  There's space for a couple of carefully parked cars near to the railway underpass.  A trolley is very useful here as it's a few hundred metres to the water and there's a barrier across the private estate road.  We were soon on the water and underway on an absolutely idyllic morning.

An hour or so  down the loch and we pulled in to a tiny beach for coffee and first luncheon.  With warm sunshine and light winds it felt like summer.  Only occasional whispers of wind disturbed the loch surface and we noted several rising fish.  Loch Ericht is known for its population of Ferox Trout , a form of Brown Trout (Salmo trutta) which are piscivourous - fish feeding - rather than benthivorous - invertebrate feeding -like Brown Trout.  Ferox trout grow to prodigious sizes; up to 30lbs (14Kg) is not unknown.  Their prey may be Arctic Charr or Brown Trout in Loch Ericht, and they may or may not be genetically different from Brown Trout populations in the same loch, a fascinating species of fish.

While we lazed in the sun we saw a Dipper working along the side of the loch towards us.  I associate Dippers with fast flowing rivers and burns; they're common on the River Don near to my home.  Here though, the bird was swimming along in shallow water before diving under to search for invertebrates in slightly deeper water.  It was completely oblivious to our presence until one of us moved; it then gave a splendid double-take before scolding us and flying straight across the loch.

The Ben Alder estate has some very fine buildings on it; this is one of the smallest, the gate lodge on the estate road along the north shore of the loch, which can be rented and sleeps 8 in some splendour.....

....but that's quite bijou compared to the rather magnificent Ben Alder Lodge!  The "big house" for the estate is really quite something and even has a nearby full-sized church.

Past Ben Alder Lodge the view from the loch on the north side opens out briefly to give a great view to Ben Alder and Bheinn Bheoil (on the left) and Sgor Iutharn on the right, with its superb Lancet Edge seen head-on.  On the two occasions I've climbed these hills I've had great winter conditions, hard packed snow high up; they give superlative mountain days.

Across the loch the steep flank of the Corbett Stob an Aonaich Mhoir (peak of the big ridge) plunges directly into the loch, so steeply that there's hardly a shoreline.  There was a great image here somewhere but I failed to get the composition as I'd have liked.

Just past Ben Alder Lodge we'd experienced a very strong headwind; so pressing that we'd got off the water to see if it would subside as we weren't making much headway.  Winds were generally light so this was probably a local effect with some funneling and perhaps a bit of a thermal effect.  Once it dropped we got back on the water - the last few kilometres were a bit of a slog!

Eventually though we tuned a corner into a bay containing our destination for the night, Ben Alder Cottage.  A bothy maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association, it was a welcome sight.  I hadn't stayed here for several years but had good memories of a dry and comfortable place - particularly given I'd arrived in a heavy snowstorm which was followed by a thaw and a roaring flood.

The MBA plaque on a door in remote country is one of the most welcome sights there is, especially when tired!

We got ourselves installed and unpacked.  A party of mountain bikers and a solo walker were camped outside but joined us in the bothy to share some of the spartan comfort of the place.  There is an old story about this bothy being haunted by the ghost of a former resident, a gamekeeper called McCook who hanged himself behind the door.  Great tale as it is, McCook died in his own bed in Newtonmore in 1933 and the tales are, well, just that - the true story is  told on Trevor Hipkin's blog here .

Well after the sun set the glow in the western sky was gorgeous, silhouetting the hills in cold steel-blue and graduating the sky from gold to pink to palest blue - a great sunset.

Back indoors we created our own glow with a fire in the bothy's stove.  We'd brought logs and offcuts of whisky barrel staves in our boats, much to the delight of the mountain bikers who'd travelled in light.  A dinner of venison casserole followed by stewed apples with clotted cream and accompanied by a dram soon gave an inner glow to match that of the fire.  It had been a long day of paddling and the next day would be an even bigger one....we weren't up late.