30 June
I hadn't been to Knoydart before. Dougie was joining me for this part, which offset a lot of the potential isolation of one of the most starkly savage places I've now ever been. We didn't even get the best of the weather for Knoydart, but I'm still of the opinion that it's all that people say it is, and more.
Dougie and I began with the Loch Hourn coastal walk. After driving from Fort Augustus, we procrastinated over cups of tea, until it was decided we'd need to get out there and go.
Bags were packed, then we set off from Kinlochhourn, the start of a mega trip into one of the wildest places in Scotland. Loch Hourn is an incredibly beautiful place, and we plodded over the up's and down's of the track, through trees, boulderfields and past islands.
Often, I wish I could get pictures on this blog more easily, and this is one of those times! We arrived at Barrisdale, another beautiful place. The spires of Ladhar Bheinn sent a shiver down the spine.
We went into the bothy and there we found the two Belgium guys I'd seen two days previously in Glen Finnan. The chat was great, we cracked open wine, and passed the evening in Barrisdale as night fell. Winds blew and rain fell outside. It had been a wild day, not one to be up high. It was just as well we'd done the coastal walk!
1 July
Dougie and I had considered (and decided against) climbing Ladhar Bheinn the previous evening. So it was stuck onto the main Knoydart day, making a big day even bigger.
Where do I begin... these hills are so big, and the day was hard. There was the stress of the long day, the weight of the rucksacks, the prospect that however hard today was, tomorrow would be further and harder. But Knoydart really is incredible and I wish I had more time to stay and really see it without the pressure of peak-bagging.
We climbed Ladhar Bheinn in good weather, ascending via. towering Stob a' Choire Odhair, a sharp fang of stunning severity. The whole of Ladhar Bheinn is pretty stunning, it's just turrets and peaks everywhere. It's almost amazing that a mountain of this altitude has so much form and structure; often the Munros have to be a bit higher to have this architecture. But it's a mountain that drops straight to the sea - the dramatic west coast, and this of course makes it even better.
Ladhar Bheinn had been a hard slog, but Luinne Bheinn was harder. The hours slipped by worryingly fast, and we began to realise we'd get to Sourlies (bothy) very late. The stress levels went quite high, and I worried about pace. But we made the top in time, and my desire was just to be over the last Munro, Meall Buidhe. We hadn't packed tents, and the sanctuary of Sourlies was still a long way off.
Meall Buidhe is a hell of a mountain. Most of Knoydart is kind of rough, but Meall Buidhe is simply one of the most dramatic mountains I've ever seen. The Earth spilled up it's guts on this hill; topographically it's not outstanding compared to many other well-sculpted mountains, but everywhere is an insane maze of bare exposed slabs, walls and crazy contortions of rock. How the hell did this mountain end up this way?
Dougie and I slogged up to the summit somewhere around about 9pm and dropped off the other side to Sourlies. On this side there's still a severity of terrain you don't quite see on the map. We got down to the Mam Meadail path as the light dimmed and dropped down to Loch Nevis as the light completely went. Even still, we didn't quite need torches. With Sourlies around the corner, we stopped for a moment at the beach on Loch Nevis and listened to the calm silence. Despite being so far 'out there', the atmosphere was not a threatening one as had been experienced on Meall Buidhe. Home for the night was just a kilometre around the headland, right by the coast. We sloshed around the headland, through the sea water up to our knees, and got to the bothy bang on midnight. We woke up a German couple; they were very accommodating! Sourlies is a brilliant place, and I will be back.
2 July
Despite our late night the night before, Dougie and I knew we needed an early start for this huge day. So we left Sourlies at... 11am. We never seem to get out early.
This day was the huge range of peaks south of Loch Quoich, from Sgurr na Ciche in the west, to Gairich in the east. (Which ultimately we missed out)
We began the plod to Sgurr na Ciche in warm, close air, with rain pattering down. It was a hard day from the outset, with tension in the air you could sense but didn't want to disturb. The previous day had been really tough, and this one promised to be harder.
Sgurr na Ciche was a long plod up from Sourlies, a mountain that is rough, huge and a little out-of-this-world. It was a shame that the mist was down once we got to the top, otherwise the view from here would probably be incredible. Doug and I began the huge walk back to the Loch Quoich dam, a walk which really turned out to be enormous.
The hills themselves didn't that distinct. They'd be great if you got the weather, I'm sure, but in the mist, we would just climb one mountain, and descend, and climb the next and descend. I enjoyed the compass work, but in reality the day was a long plod in the mist, and rain, and wind. I was trying not to get cold, trying to put the huge route ahead out of my head.
The crazy thing about today's huge route was that we really had no escape routes. Any retreat out to Loch Quoich or Loch Arkaig wouldn't really be an escape at all. The logistics of getting back to the dam, and ultimately back on schedule, would be as great as just putting the head down and plodding on now. If anything did work in our favour, it was that the winds weren't too ferocious, and that the rain was never too heavy. Even so, the rain fell without pause all day, soaking us through and making it a simple physical and mental challenge.
The Munros Garbh Chioch Mor, Sgurr nan Coireachan and Sgurr Mor were done this way, and after Sgurr an Fhuarain (not a Munro), we dipped out of cloud and the final Munro Gairich was ahead.
Given that it was already getting dark, this was a problem. The dam is on the far side of Gairich, but if we were to climb it today, we'd be on top in the dark, pushing a pace so slow we wouldn't be off the hills until the next morning.
There didn't seem to be much alternative. We finally decided on getting around Gairich via. a track on the south side, and still ended up plodding back to the dam into the following day - we arrived back at 1am, completely shattered, with a tent (stashed) to put up, and curries (also stashed) to cook. We didn't fall asleep for another hour; the end of a mental day, one of the hardest and most memorable of the walk.
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