The road end, before the walk into Knoydart, and into an area that many claim to be the last true wilderness region of Scotland, is suitably abrupt. Indeed, the road at Kinloch Hourn, in north-west Scotland, simply “ends” and then a path begins. But I must confess that I wasn’t as impressed as I’d imagined.
To start with we were required to pay £2 per night to the nearby farm to leave our vehicle in the car park. Then there was a sign that told dog owners to keep their pet on a lead. And the path, at the outset, was all a bit country garden-esque and “created”, and not as remote feeling as I’d hoped.
Saying this, the trail that heads the six miles or so to Barrisdale on the peninsula of Knoydart did offer some magnificent, remote-feeling views. Walking for the most part alongside Loch Hourn during a recent weekend at the start of autumn the G-Force and I could not wished for a calmer, sunnier or warmer afternoon.
And the further we walked the more rugged and tranquil became the path. While we never needed to navigate ourselves (so obvious was the path) there was still enough off-the-beaten-track-style ascent and descent and winding turns to give the feeling of being miles from anywhere. Which, after two hours we were. The only way to reach the heart of Knoydart is by foot or by boat. That’s to say, there is no access by car.
Added to the get-away-from-it-all adventure was the challenge of carrying a backpack filled to the brim with all the kit we’d require for two nights of wild camping. The last time I camped on a cold night I was sobbing and shivering. This time I was determined to take enough layers (including new Woolpower top and Rab down jacket… reviews to come) and a plump enough sleeping bag to keep me cosy warm. But all this needed to be carried, as did the tent, cooking equipment, food, sun lotion, spare clothes in case of rain etc Being only around 9.5st I normally like to walk with a pack that is as lightweight as possible but there was no choice other than to hire a donkey… so I hauled a big, heavy backpack for more than six miles.
In fact, because of the pack, the six mile trail felt a great deal longer and more strenuous than six miles. With a hot sun also beating down on our heads we were much wearier than seemed feasible when we finally reached the campsite. And, yes, I did write “campsite”.
Being Knoydart (a place much talked about for its wildness) I’d imagined we would be able to wild camp pretty much anywhere and certainly nowhere near other people and houses. As it turned out a sign on the Knoydart estate made it clear that walkers were encouraged to make use of an area of ground next to a bothie for camping. (Incidentally the bothie was one of the “plushest” I’ve seen with two toilets, a kitchen sink, lights and even a self-catering option that offers bunks with mattresses.)
There are also houses! Houses with electricity (albeit from their own generator) but nonetheless people were living in houses in the middle of this wilderness area. I know it’s strange to say but I felt somehow cheated. The G-Force and I have walked in many locations in Scotland and some have felt a lot more remote than the tiny settlement of Barrisdale. Although, I guess, given that the only way into Knoydart is on foot or by boat it’s fair to describe the peninsula as one of the least accessible by modern transport. And this is still a place of awesome beauty.
Pitching our tent (on a pitch that had been clearly used by many other previous campers) we set about cooking dinner on our camping stove before sitting back to take in the amazing surrounding scenery. To one side, the loch stretched out as far as the eye could see. The flat, mirror-like surface gleamed with the colours of a stunning setting sun. Climbing steeply out of the loch’s edge rose huge mountains, many streaming with frothing white waterfalls. From our campsite it was impossible to see the summit of the first Munro we planned to walk the following morning but during the walk into Knoydart we had glimpsed it’s high, rocky outcrop.
Yes, I did write “first”. For the G-Force had a crazy plan to climb three Munros in one long day. These three Munros are the last ones to tick off in this area as he comes ever closer to compleating (correct spelling*!) his first full Munro bagging round of 283 Scottish summits over the height of 3000ft (914.4m). Our plan was to bag the mighty Ladhar Bheinn (1020m), the highest mountain in Knoydart, followed by both Luinne Bheinn (939m) and Meall Buidhe (946m).
And so we set off from camp around 9am the next morning to ascend Ladhar. (Thanks to the G-Force’s 4-seasons sleeping bag, which he kindly lent me, and a fantastic Thermarest, not to mention a pair of leggings, my Woolpower top and a fleece I was very warm all night. Bliss!) According to Cameron McNeish in his book The Munros the walk from Barrisdale to the top of Ladhar involves only some 50 metres of “extra” ascent. This “extra” takes into account the up and downs of reaching the summit proper; including the many false summits and the hump like back of the ridge. The G-Force and I found this hard to believe, although we most certainly must have followed a different route to Cameron’s, because there appeared to be a great deal of up and down to finally reach the top of Ladhar. So much up and down that we thought we’d never reach it!
The walk from Barrisdale was utterly magnificent though. Heading via the corrie of Coire Dhorrcail we found ourselves spellbound by the high craggy cliff faces above us and the sudden feeling of true wilderness. This is exactly as I’d imagined Knoydart to be. Seeing few other people and with only views of mountains, corries and lochs around us we relished the wild, rugged and transfixing beauty of our remote surroundings.
One thought that brings you back to reality while walking in this area is that if you were to have a fall or an accident it would take a helicopter to reach you and even this might not be feasible on the many days throughout the year when inclement weather hits this peninsula. Indeed, the ridge walk to the summit of Ladhar was a lot more exposed than the books had described. I’m not keen on ridges but by looking straight ahead at the path and not down the steep slides of the mountain I was able to hold in my fear. Thankfully we enjoyed beautiful sunshine and clear skies and so the walking and navigation were as easy as it could ever be. I really wouldn’t fancy this hike in low cloud and high winds.
Sitting down for a quick bite to eat on top of Ladhar we looked across at the daunting expanse between us and the other two Munros. While it’s sometimes possible to reach multiple summits with relative ease, here in Knoydart everything seemed huge and demanding.
A long descent of Ladhar brought us to a bealach and the challenge of another immense climb up our second Munro. To qualify as a Munro proper there needs to be at least 500ft of ascent and decent between each summit but in some cases the descent is almost back to sea level and the ascent from one Munro to the next is massive.
Already we were both tiring and looking at our watch we realised that it was only around 4 or 5 hours until sunset. If we’d been walking in the summer we would probably have soldiered on but it would have been foolhardy to do so in autumn/winter. So we made the difficult decision to summit just one of the final two Munros.
Luinne Bheinn gave us another huge workout and on reaching the summit we almost felt relieved to be heading back to the campsite. Both of us kept looking back at that final un-summitted Munro but we knew we were making the right (and sensible ) decision. As it turned out the descent and return to the tent was far longer than we’d imagined.
Just a third of the way down my legs began to feel the agony of the walk into Knoydart the day before and the accumulation of 1000s of feet of ascent and descent. The G-Force was looking just as glum as me, although I think his pain was more mental than physical.To have seen that last Knoydart Munro but not to have summitted it was clearly mental torture to him.
And then I had a brilliant idea. It suddenly occured to me that the Munro Meall Buidhe could be accessed from another point into Knoydart, via Inverie. And Inverie is where you find the most remote pub on Scotland’s mainland. It’s necessary to take a ferry from Mallaig to Inverie before making the walk to Buidhe but this is possible – and many Munroists do the Knoydart summits in this way.
So I suggested to the G-Force that we plan a future adventure to Inverie. We might even save this trip for his last Munro, especially as we’ll be able to celebrate in much-famed Old Forge Inn. This brought a huge grin to his face and we plodded a little more contentedly, and ever slower, back to our overnight camping spot.
All I can say is thank goodness for the whisky I lugged into Knoydart. A few drams and a meal of pasta brought some feeling back to my legs. That evening we spent chatting to Ali, a Munro bagger from Glasgow, who was staying in the bothie and after 24 years of climbing mountains was on his penultimate Munro bag. He was due to compleat the following weekend and planned to walk the only Munro on Mull, Ben More, with his 72-year-old mum. He promsied he’d email to tell me how he gets on. I hope he does so that I can publish a guest blog.
Overnight the G-Force conjured up another way to bag an extra Munro (as only he is apt to do!). He reckoned that if we packed up early enough and headed out of Knoydart we might be able to “catch another Munro on the road home”. Ok, I thought let’s just hope it starts to rain! The six-mile trek back to the car was with lighter backpacks (less food, water and booze!) but it was still a long and weary walk, especially after the previous day’s Munro bagging epic.
I don’t think the G-Force was faring that much better either because when I mentioned the time and the fact I needed to be back home for Little Miss Outdoors that evening he didn’t seem too sad to give up hope of that Munro, too. Instead we were able to enjoy a leisurely drive home stopping for food at the award-winning Real Food Cafe at Tyndrum
We also watched as the clouds spread across the sky and the rain started to fall. How lucky we had been to spend two nights in Knoydart without a spot of rain and at the end of September.
I’m still not convinced that Knoydart is the fairytale-style wilderness area that I had imagined but it is still hard to beat in terms of utterly jaw-dropping mountainous views and Munros that really do make you work for your summits. Two days later and my legs were still too sore to exercise (it’s the first time I’ve ever had to call off from yoga). In fact my legs were still sore a week later! It just goes to show how huge these Knoydart mountains must be… I can’t wait to return!
* Compleat: The Scottish Mountaineering Club has traditionally referred to rounds of Munros being “compleated” and those who have climbed all the Munros as “compleatists”. Some feel that this deliberate anachronism is a little pretentious; but on the other hand why not! Munro bagging is rather unique and so why not use a unique term for “compleating”?