Day 1 – it rained a lot, I’ve never seen so much water, flowing out of every possible place. I saw a stalker out on the road before entering this valley – he just nodded to me, rolled his eyes to the heavens, and said ‘dreich’. I nodded back and said ‘yup’. This felt like proper highlands.
The Rough Bounds of Knoydart – apparently this is where commandos in the Second World War were trained.
At Kinloch Hourn there was a sign telling me to stop at the Stalker’s cottage before heading into the hills. I was told there that I could carry on, as long as I was clear of the valley by morning. A storm was coming in, but I pressed on as long as I could. I had to divert maybe 1.5 miles to get through a river in spate. I was quite high up when I stopped to camp, and the wind was very strong. I could only just get my tent up, and there wasn’t much space – the guy lines were going out horizontally into the side of a hill. It was a long night, with the wind rushing through the tent and pulling it in different directions, wondering if it would hold up. An alarm went off on my phone at one point to remind me to go to someone’s leaving drinks…
Anyway, the tent did hold up, and I stumbled out of the hills into Shiel Bridge the next day a bit tired for lack of sleep. I met a guy at the bus stop, who I’d first met at A’Chuil bothy. He looked like he’d had a similar night and was bailing out because of further weather warnings over the next few days.
Postscript, January 2021: it was in the hills between Kinloch Hourn and Shiel Bridge that, in the summer of 2020, I came across some lost girls who were having a bit of a hard time. They worried about the river crossing and I enjoyed looking off into the middle distance and telling them about a time, long ago, that I had to cross this river while in spate.
On the way to Loch Carron. It rained pretty constantly but I managed to keep my feet dry right up to about 100 metres from where I was going to sleep, at Maol-bhuidhe bothy, because I had to cross a swollen stream. I’ve claimed this went up to my waist, and have had doubtful looks about that. So I will say that it at least went up to a part of me that, for perhaps evolutionary reasons, registers strongly in the mind when dipped into cold water.
The mountains of Glen Torridon
Lochan Fada
On the way from Sheneval bothy – one of my favourite places in the world. It’s here I met some Scottish people who provided me with an obligatory wee dram of whisky.
Postscript, January 2021: always hope to find Scottish people in a bothy. They will have whisky and offer you some. English people will also have whisky, but they won’t offer you any. I’ve learnt that from Sheneval over the years.
Some say the Cape Wrath Trail isn’t really a trail, it’s more a set of rules: Fort William to Cape Wrath avoiding the roads. People say it’s difficult because there are no signposts and sometimes no footpath at all. They’re wrong because around here there is actually a sign that says ‘Cape Wrath Trail’. However, its arrow points in the wrong direction. Which is just mean.
Glendhu bothy. I meet John here. He is proper ultralight hiker and is carrying 12 days of food, no bother. This impressed me because I met an American on the Kungsleden who was training to do the John Muir Trail, and his pack was impossibly heavy just trying to carry 11 days, which he said you needed to be able to do for the JMT. John gave me a lot of incredibly helpful advice here.
Postscript, January 2021: it took me 3 years to come around to all the things John told me to do, just in time for the PCT where it really helped. As it happens, doing the PCT also means basically doing the John Muir Trail backwards – which in the context above seems like a sort of proof of success. I remember John had been testing a Zpacks DCF tent – I’d never heard of it, but by the time I did the PCT it was the most common tent being used.
I was worried about getting through the Ministry of Defence training area at Cape Wrath – they said they wouldn’t be firing yet, but what if they just couldn’t be bothered to walk six miles through the bog to take down the warning flags? Someone implied to me, based on a discussion with a bus driver who said they used to work there, that it’s probably ok to go through even if there are warning flags, as most of the training is ‘just small arms fire down in the valleys’. I don’t know about everyone else, but when talking about going for a walk, I very much draw the line at potential exposure to small arms fire.
NOTE: for the avoidance of doubt, I do know about everyone else- it would be both illegal and stupid to go into the training area when the red flags are up.
I met a thru-hiker going southbound here. He was a dark skies photographer and told me a good place to camp to see some.
I talked to him about the MOD. He said he phoned them more recently and had an earlier date than what I thought for when they’d start firing, though I should still just make it. He also told me that the training exercise had a macho name like ‘Operation Overlord’ and was about practicing sea to shore bombardment. Whatever your feelings about the ability to dodge small arms fire – I’m guessing you are less confident about avoiding falling naval shells.
Postscript, January 2021: I met a couple near Shiel Bridge in 2020 who told me about a time when they were practicing aerial bombardment. The jets had left Germany and were on their way, but had to be turned around because hikers had been spotted walking along the coast. If you’re not worried about your own life, at least have some concern for the wasted jet fuel…
Sandwood Bay
It happened. I got to the training area, and the red flags were still up. I stared at them for about 15 minutes thinking about small arms fire, before turning back around for the walk back to the nearest road.
It’s annoying to not being able to complete the last 5 miles or so. On the other hand, Sandwood Bay is a stunning place to end a trip.
Now, back to civilization – the grey ooze of NHS bureaucracy awaits.
Epilogue: waiting for my lift back to Inverness, having walked back to the road at Kinlochbervie.