Escaping Knoydart

Walking from Inverie to Glenfinnan, January 2014

There was a flash of light outside just a nano-second before we were plunged into darkness and silence inside. Then came the thunder. We had been watching Michael Palin’s ‘Around the World in 80 Days’ on video. There was no TV signal here, along with no telephone signal and now nothing at all. The storm had interrupted our electricity supply and our internet connection. Luckily we had been here long enough to find our way back to our bedroom in the dark where we could fumble for our torches and go to bed.



A wet & wild Inverie

We settled into our bunks, our expedition rucksacks fully packed & ready to go, resting against the other, empty beds in the room. In the morning we would set off to walk to Glenfinnan; a four day walk from the Knoydart Foundation bunkhouse in Inverie.  I was a little apprehensive; the weather forecast wasn’t great. It would be damp and windy throughout our expedition and we knew we had rivers to cross; I was hoping that they wouldn’t pose too much of a challenge for us.

Following the Inverie River

Andy & I had a hearty breakfast of porridge & syrup and left the bunkhouse, heading for Sourlies bothy at the head of Loch Nevis. We had previously camped near the bothy on a canoeing expedition from Loch Morar to Mallaig. It had been busy then; we hoped at this time of year we might get it to ourselves.  The start of the walk was easy; on a well maintained track that gently climbed upwards along the glacial valley bottom, with footbridges to cross the tributaries that flowed into the Inverie River. We soon took a right turn alongside Allt Gleann Meadail and the climbing increased, the path underfoot remained solid and the views behind us ever more interesting. We passed a bothy belonging to the Kilchoan Estate. Apparently you can rent this out; it looks less like a bothy and more of a posh bunkhouse. To my immense disappointment it was locked with no way in. We continued our ascent to the bealach ahead, the temperature cooled; snow-topped peaks began to rise in front of us and we had our first footsteps on old patches of snow.

 

Nearing the watershed above Inverie

We paused for a short breather at the watershed, taking in the views in both directions. We had climbed up to 600m, from sea level. Ahead of us we had a short, fairly steep descent to Carnoch and the remains of an old farm. We took it steady and as we approached the broken buildings we tried to decipher what the strange sounds were that we could hear. We looked over the walls into an enclosure and saw two very excited, beautiful little piggies. Quite unexpected!



Dropping down to Carnoch

After amusing ourselves trying to entertain the pigs, we walked downstream to a rickety bridge, crossed the river Carnach and picked the best route through the boggy marshland towards the headland that we had to round to reach the bothy. After getting across to the small cliffs we decided to skirt around them rather than follow a path uphill and over the headland. Psychologically we couldn’t face an uphill, however small, now that we were down at the coast. Luckily the tide was on its way out; giving us enough space to scramble over the coastal rocks without getting our feet wet and eventually reach the bothy. With no smoke coming from the chimney we were hopeful we had it to ourselves.

Crossing the boggy inter-tidal ground after Carnoch

We sorted ourselves out, hanging things up to dry, fetching drinking water and firewood, putting on extra layers and Andy started to make a fire. This went quite well but produced rather more smoke than we had anticipated. It got so smoky inside that we had to stand outside, to allow us to breathe and to stop the tears from streaming down our faces. So rather than warming up, we were getting colder. With his knowledge of all things firey and smoky; Andy set about trying to fix the problem so that we could stay inside the bothy and warm up beside a roaring fire. Unfortunately there seemed to be nothing he could do; so we put the fire out, left the door open to get the smoke out and then set about getting a meal cooked. After re-fuelling ourselves, digging loo holes for the morning and generally getting ourselves sorted we settled down to get some sleep. We were warm enough in our sleeping bags and bivi bags and slept well until we were woken by a rustling coming from Andy’s pack. It seemed we were not the only ones to look forward to a wine gum treat. Being in an outer pocket, the wine gums were quite easily reached by the resident mouse at Sourlies bothy. Thankfully not much damage was done to the pack. Food separated and re-hung, hopefully out of reach of the mouse, we settled back down to sleep.

 



Arriving with plenty of firewood at Sourlies bothy



The following morning dawned dry but windy. The forecast was for the winds to strengthen throughout the day and for heavy rain to come in. We attempted to start early to avoid the worst of the weather but we were not early enough. After rescuing a mouse from my loo hole and doing the necessary ablutions, eating our hearty porridge & syrup breakfast, making flasks for the day ahead and tidying the bothy; we set off up beside the Finiskaig River. As we climbed the weather got greyer, windier and wetter. At one point whilst passing through a narrow gap in the rocks I could hardly make any headway due to the wind blowing against me.

Looking down Loch Nevis, passed Sourlies bothy

However the landscape was beautiful; we had climbed to a high, flat area dominated by small streams and Lochan a Mhaim. The route was a little trickier here, with numerous stream crossings and plentiful bogs. I imagine on a good-weather day that the area is stunning. We were too cold and damp to hang about and kept marching onwards and then downwards to the woods of Glen Dessary. As we started our descent towards A’Chuil bothy the weather turned colder with big, wet snowflakes falling all around us. The conditions underfoot were also wet and muddy so we carefully placed our feet as we headed towards the woods. Once in the woods we were confined to a track which made it more difficult to avoid the mud but we did the best we could. Finally we emerged out of the woods and followed the well maintained track towards the bothy at the edge of the next woodland.



A'Chuil bothy in the morning

At A’Chuil we discovered the ‘East & West Wings’. We chose the East Wing and settled into our routine. We had not collected firewood on the way due in part to the weather but also as we could tell from the map that the bothy was on the outer edge of a woodland; surely this would provide a plentiful wood supply. However there was little wood for burning around. What there was, was damp and didn’t ignite well. We persevered but had no luck in getting a fire going. Our dreams of warming up by the fires in the bothies each night wasn’t coming true. As the daylight faded, the air temperature dropped and with no roaring fire, I had to resort to getting into my sleeping bag to warm up. I was really cold after a wet, windy day on the hill. It didn’t help that a cold front came through in the night. Luckily I was plenty warm enough in my 3 season sleeping bag and bivi-bag but Andy struggled a little in his lighter weight bag which he had brought to save space.  



Inside the East Wing at A'Chuil bothy

As we both lay quietly, conserving heat in the East Wing, we heard voices and torch lights could be seen outside. We had company for the night. Three men had made their way to the bothy to spend the weekend Munro-bagging from it. We were delighted to be invited into the West Wing once they had got a fire going with the bag of coal they had brought in. We shared wine & whisky and went of to bed feeling toasty & warm.

When we woke in the morning, everywhere was white. The weather had turned cooler and the rain had turned to snow. We did the usual packing up, cooking porridge, preparing flasks, ablutions etc.. and then left, following the forestry/estate track around the hill into Glen Pean, rather than over the top to our biggest river crossing of the trip so far, (without a bridge).



Good conditions for river crossing

The water was gently tumbling down two valleys, crystal clear; bubbling around the rocks and beautiful to hear amongst the otherwise silent mountains. The smaller stream rose from a classical ‘v’ shaped valley with snow-capped mountains either side, the larger river wound its way downhill between interlocking spurs, alongside a coniferous forest where wild boar roam. At the confluence a scattering of boulders made an easy crossing for us; the recent snowfall was keeping water out of the rivers and thankfully the level was relatively low. We hopped from one boulder to the next, using our walking poles to stop our feet slipping off the rocks; keeping our feet dry as we crossed to the other bank. Above us herds of deer were avoiding the worst of the weather, grazing below the snowline; only as their heads turned in unison when they realised we were there, did we notice them. We must have been more of a threat to them than the colder weather uphill, as they moved off, melting into the snowy hillsides above.

We followed the line of the tributary upwards towards the saddle in the ridge above, trying to find an easy route between the unstable, often eroded river banks, baring the peat cliffs where the grass has long since fallen into the water below; and the steep craggy hillside above. The remoteness of the area we were in meant that there were no established paths to follow; people don’t frequent this area. We barely noticed creeping above the snowline but soon, with every step we took, our feet had become heavy. The cold front that had passed in the night had dropped snow onto the warm ground, leaving wet, heavy snow, sticking to our boots with every step; making our progress up towards the head of the valley slow and tiring.



Falling through the snow crust

We could clearly see the bealach that we were heading for, it was now within reach. The mountainsides were closing in, the gradient increasing but we had only a steep headwall to climb before descending the other side and heading ever closer to civilisation. Occasionally there would be gaps in the clouds allowing us to glimpse the tops of the mountains that surrounded us.  Tantalisingly close as they were, we chose not to climb them on this expedition. Heavy footsteps, unstable snow and loaded backpacks made them an uninspiring choice for today. Avalanche debris had previously slipped down the steep valley sides so we cautiously and quickly crossed the slopes, looking for safer ridges and outcrops to pause on. The dropping temperature that came with the rise in altitude had made the top layer of snow firm and crusty; with each step that we took we tried to float into the air, not cracking the top layer, so as not to sink up to our thighs into the softer snow beneath the surface.

Creeping ever upwards we found that the horizon we had spotted earlier was not, in fact the watershed. The steep climb was over but we continued uphill with carefully placed footsteps until we could clearly see the new valley below us and our route off the hill. We aimed for the thinner snow further down; deciding to push onto easier ground before stopping for a tea break. We drained the dregs from our flasks and then filled them with fresh water from the clear, sparkling stream at our feet. So close to the source of the stream; there are fewer places to get water so fresh.



On the good track down to Corryhully bothy

Refreshed and with new energy we descended further, soon getting below the snowline. The going eased and we found a feint track to follow. Another river crossing, even easier than the first one today and soon we could stop for the night. The weather had actually been good to us; we later heard that further inland there had been huge snowfalls, high winds and many avalanches. Although by no means good weather, the weather gods had treated us well.

As the deer watched us cautiously we arrived at Corryhully Bothy.  On a damp, windy evening it was a great relief to have a roof over our heads, space to hang out our wet gear and a comfortable place to sleep. We lit a fire with the supply of dry wood and started to warm up, dry out and re-fuel ourselves. Again, the fire was a disappointment. Although this bothy is privately maintained and there is a plentiful supply of dry firewood; the fire we made seemed to have no impact on the temperature of the bothy. We gathered in as close as we could to the fire but still there seemed to be little heat. It was not a disaster though; we were dry and once in our sleeping bags we were warm enough.



Inside Corryhully bothy

Tomorrow would be an easy walk out to Glenfinnan; it was irrelevant what the weather would throw at us. In less than two hours we would be back at the car and on our way to a comfortable cottage for the week. We were proud of ourselves for walking out of Inverie; the remotest, inhabited spot on mainland UK, in the middle of winter.