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!