In love with the North West Highlands

By Mal Grey

It’s a long drive from the south east of England to the far North West of Scotland. A full day at best, though often broken with an overnight stop. Sometimes I wish the Highlands were closer, but a little hardship makes the rewards even sweeter. As you drop down towards Inverness on the A9, or turn north from the “frontier town” of Fort William, the sense of excitement is strong, and ahead of you is a land of loch and mountain, of coast and isle, the perfect place for some of the best canoeing you’ll ever have.

Wilderness is a state of mind
Mal has recently launched his own website, showcasing his photography, his writing and hopefully inspiring others through these, and through a regular blog, to get out there and have their own adventures, either further afield or close to home. www.wildernessisa
stateofmind.co.uk

In love with the North West Highlands

The North West Highlands are usually thought of as everything beyond the Great Glen, that massive fault line that splits the northern half of Scotland in too, and itself offers one of British paddling’s most popular challenges, the Great Glen Canoe Trail. This route, though, is never far from civilization and facilities. The adventures to be found further north, though, are in wilder country and the merest glance at a map gets the pulse rising slightly. The outline of the amazing coast, with its many inlets and myriad islands, promises complex coastal paddling. Inland, the contours pack together to form steep sided mountains, not high in global terms, but complex and not to be underestimated. What lies between these hills, filling the glens and inlets, is what draws us north. Lochs.

Many of the lochs of the Highlands are pretty big, often studded with islands, and make great destinations for a few days paddling and wild camping in their own right. Perhaps the real joy, though, comes from linking the lochs together, turning a canoe camping trip into an expedition with portages across the wilds. And we’re not spoilt for choice, there are so many trips. Some are well reported, if you search for them, but sometimes its most rewarding just to look at a map and follow those blue lines.

The trips in this article try to describe some of the feel of adventurous paddling in this wonderful part of the world. What has made it extra special, more satisfying, and more fun, is that these trips were carried out as a bunch of friends and families, with young children along for the ride. There are not many youngsters who have been able to experience such adventures as these before the age of 10. Followers of the Song of the Paddle forum will know these kids as the ‘Pirates’, and these are their adventures as much as ours.

The Shiel Circuit

The head of Loch Shiel is these days better known for the viaduct at Glenfinnan and its associations with Harry Potter, as well as its place in history as a gathering place for Bonnie Prince Charlie and his doomed followers. Its also the starting point of one of the best canoe touring trips in the Highlands, and one Easter a few years back found us on its shores, contemplating the adventure ahead. We would paddle the length of this huge loch, before dropping down a short river to the sheltered bays of Loch Moidart on the coast, followed by a slightly scary, for a first-time sea paddle, rounding of a headland into Loch Ailort.

Our first wild camp was in a lovely spot on the north shores, where we sat by the fireboxes watching a huge full moon rise over the mountains beyond. Here, many of the group were introduced to ticks, especially Ade, who turned his drysuit inside out and laid it on their home to dry…

Later in the trip, after exploring the atmospheric Burial Island and watching a huge white sailed sea eagle visit our second camp, we portaged the short tide-dependent rapids at the end of the River Shiel, to enter Loch Moidart, a delightful sheltered loch where islands offer a choice of wild camps. Here, though the skies were sunny, we spent a day wind-bound, though that day, living on an island in this wild and wonderful spot, remains one of my favourite memories of the trip.

The trip was completed by a remarkable day, after a very early start, paddling on a gentle but glassy swell round the rugged coast. This felt committing at the time, but with good weather and careful tidal planning, we achieved it in safety on a wonderful sunny day. A final night on the shore, watching the sun set over the Inner Hebrides, brought this amazing adventure to an end.

Assynt

My favourite part of Scotland, if not the world, is Assynt. A wonderful landscape of iconic hills rising steeply above a wild land studded with sparkling lochs. The following Easter, our thoughts turned to here, and to something more physical. A trip with proper portages. We planned a route that would take us down Loch Veyatie, the shallow river of the Uidh Fhearna, to Fionn Loch. Here we would spend a few nights, before the big test, the portage across a mile or so of trackless terrain to Loch Sionasgaig. Another couple of nights would be spent here, then we’d return up a different portage to Veyatie once again to complete the circuit.

This was an amazing trip. After a day paddling in pretty bleak weather down the loch and river, after a short but hard portage from Cam Loch, we arrived at our proposed camp on Fionn Loch. What a location this was, a perfect flat spit of land between river and a sheltered bay. We were, though, tired and cold, and had experienced something of the harsher nature of this wild landscape, for some of the kids were chilled and unhappy. Shelter, food and warmth soon brought us all back to life, but it was a reminder of how quickly things can turn.

The following morning was fabulous. As we rose, mists swirled around us, but we could sense brightness above. Suddenly, the clouds broke and above us rose the magnificent outline of the remarkable spine of Suilven, that most dramatic of peaks. We climbed it that day, most of us, a day of pure joy as we sat on the ridge and gazed down on the stupendous landscape of Inverpolly below.

The portage to Loch Sionasgaig was tough. We were learning all the time, each crew working out its own preferred method of getting piles of bags, and a boat, across heather and bog. My own preferred method in this terrain is the “pulk haul”, attaching the canoe by painter to a belt and using walking poles to drag it. I have to carry at least one load of bags before doing this though, we don’t travel light on these Easter trips with kids! A great sense of comradeship arose during this trial, everybody doing more than their bit to make the passage as easy as it could be, and with plenty of breaks to hand out snacks and chat.

Loch Sionasgaig

A true jewel in the crown that is Assynt. No roads reach its shores, so anybody who spends time here has had to work for it. In the middle of the loch Eilean Mor, the big island, has a few fabulous spots for camping. After a battle to get there from our portage, in strong winds and waves that had us approaching our comfort limit, we awoke the next morning to a scene that will never, ever leave me. Silence cloaked the hills, and the loch, like a mirror of mercury, lay under a circle of the remarkable hills of Inverpolly, to whose slopes clung wispy, fluffy clouds. As I sat, dumbfounded by the view, the eerie calls of divers cried out mournfully, echoing from the towering walls of the hills. We were soon on the water, each of us just silently paddling alone and soaking up the magic of this place.

The return the following day was even harder work. It was uphill to Fionn Loch. The sun was shining, and after an early start we broke for breakfast at a ruined croft, before commencing the main part of our portage. For some reason, this was a brilliant day. As we battled along, the group straggling out over the moorlands, a sense of how ridiculous this was made it great fun. At times, there were bags, boats and kids strewn across the landscape, but not a drop of water was visible, just heather and bogs.

With a sense of relief, but also of great accomplishment, we found water once more, and put in, after five hours of hard work, onto a bay of Loch Veyatie. The wind was rising and, remarkably, it was behind us. This meant we could raise a sail, and, rafted together in one happy group, we enjoyed a remarkable voyage to end our trip.

A few years later, and we returned to the area to paddle on Loch Lurgainn. Not an expedition, as such, as we spent three nights in one place and only did two short portages, but it was still a wonderful trip, living beneath the towering hills of Cul Mor and Beag, Ben Mor Coigach, and the ridiculous pinnacles of Stac Pollaidh. A perfect beach and a small woodland was a wonderful adventure playground for the kids, and one of the best wild camps I’ve known.

Assynt-rafted to sail along Loch Veyatie

Assynt-young Ben having tuition on Loch Lurgainn

Loch Maree

Another Easter, another loch. This time, the elements and the landscape were less forgiving. Having made our way onto the lovely islands of Loch Maree, the most beautiful part of one of Scotland’s most beautiful lochs, we set up camp on a beach, seemingly sheltered from the prevailing winds. That night, first of the trip, the storm arrived, swinging to the northwest and straight into our bay. With winds hitting force 10, we were battered all night, none of the adults getting much, if any, sleep as we clung to our tents. Being pitched on sand, we’d tied down to rocks, roots and anything we could, as the pegs were pulling straight out. As the rains got heavier too, the very beach beneath me started to wash away, and the rising loch grew steadily closer. At times, the tent almost inverted onto my face, and never has a sunrise been so welcome. With it came an easing of the wind, and we emerged to a scene of devastation. Our tarps had all collapsed or ripped, and our belongings were strewn across camp. Our hands were cold, raw and cut from the battles in the night to keep everything tied down.

Thoughts turned to retreat. Suddenly, though, the sun broke through and warmth reached us. Coffee hit the system, and within a remarkably short time, we were all smiling and laughing again. Retreat was not an option, onwards we would go, but we did move to a more sheltered spot.

We spent a couple of days on an aborted attempt to portage to Fionn Loch, 4 kilometres to the north of Loch Maree. Using trolleys to portage up gravel tracks, we were making reasonable progress, though it was extremely hard work, when there as a loud bang. One of the trolley tyres had exploded, both inner tube and outer, and couldn’t be repaired. We had no choice but to return. Again, though, nobody minded, it was a lovely day, and we spent another 4 hours pushing back to Maree, after two days taking canoes for a walk for no reason.

That trip finished with a couple of nights on Isle Maree, where once more we were rewarded for our efforts by a magical still morning, where the mighty mountain of Slioch was reflected in the perfect clear waters of the loch.

Morar and Nevis

Up until now, we’d mostly stuck to inland lochs. We’d had some battles with wind and waves, and had to make some decisions to stay put or amend routes because of them. We’d learnt lots, and grown in confidence as a group. It was time to take to the seas.

The circuit of Lochs Morar and Nevis, with a portage between, is a classic of the west coast. Its often done by sea kayaks, but also open canoes. Not many have done it with kids, though, for these are serious waters. Morar is an immense loch, the deepest in Britain and with a dark reputation. Loch Nevis is an almost fjord-like loch, tidal, of course. Its exit is open to the westerly seas, and its currents are mysterious and not entirely predictable.

We spent the first couple of nights happily on the sheltered islands of western Loch Morar, before the hard parts of the trip began. Paddling down the loch, the wind was mostly behind us, but the waves were steadily rising and the paddling not without its difficulties. This was serious stuff, laden as we were, and we were glad to reach the sheltered point that hides the little jetty at the start of the portage north to Tarbet on Loch Nevis.

I’ve heard this described as a “monster portage”. It isn’t. Well, not compared to others we’d done before, for trolleys could be used throughout, and the distance was just a kilometre. There is, though, a fair old climb from Morar to the summit, so its not entirely without effort.

Arriving at Tarbet, a lovely spot but without obvious nice camping areas, we had a bit of a quandary. The waves were now too high for onward paddling, but the field full of sheep poo wasn’t that appealing. There were no obvious other options, and, as this is a small community and therefore we’d need permission to stop, we sent the mums and kids off to ask if there was somewhere we could pitch. The outcome was, no. Not a chance we’d be allowed to camp there. Instead, we’d be put up in luxury in the estate bunkhouse that had almost been finished and even came with two fluffy brand-new pillows each! Highland hospitality at its best. We ended up staying several nights, as the weather turned and there was no way we could risk the sea loch and escape. This was a great holiday for us, our host Dougie a marvellous chap, and made for a very different adventure.

Eventually, the forecast was better, at least for a short while. With high tides just after sunrise, we were up early to paddle on the slack, when the wind was also lowest. We paddled out onto the bay, waving goodbye to our genial host, and took a line straight across Loch Nevis to the northern shore, which we intended to hug until Inverie. The wind was low at first, as we paddled beneath the wild hillsides of Knoydart, but as we neared Inverie and had to pass the headland into its bay, a force 5 arrived, coming straight at us from the open sea to the west. This was probably the most serious part of all our adventures, for progress could only be made by zig-zagging to avoid being broadside to the waves, on which there were plenty of whitecaps now. We fought around the corner, very thankful to reach shelter beyond. After a break in Inverie we headed out to the point at the northern tip of the loch, Rubha Raonuill, where we found a lovely sandy bay and flat camp spot.

The next morning, we awoke, slightly nervous, ready to cross the open kilometre of water that separated us from the mainland, which we would then follow to Mallaig. Fortunately, conditions were kind, the winds low, and with just a modest swell, and our crossing was without incident. Only as we approached the harbour itself did the waves start to grow, so we decided not to push our luck any further and finish the trip here rather than continue to Morar.

Loch Maree Slioch stands tall above the loch

Loch Morar marshmallows are always welcome

A few notes on paddling with kids in wild places

Firstly, you are going into serious places with small people who are reliant on you to keep them safe. However, a little planning makes it perfectly possible to take kids on almost any trip. You have to be willing to stop more often, err on the side of caution, and change plans to take advantage of changes in conditions when you can. Everything takes much longer with kids, especially things like taking down camp in the morning, and you need to allow for this.

As paddlers, you also soon realise that younger kids aren’t here for the paddling, though they mostly do enjoy it. They’re here for the camping, the adventure playground that is a wild camp will entertain them all day, every day. For this reason, its important to have lots of time when you’re not travelling. Many of our best days have been those where we’ve done nothing, wonderful times spent just living outdoors, gazing at the scenery, playing the guitar on a beach, hunting for driftwood, and just relaxing, whilst the kids run about and look after themselves. One joy of island camps is that they can’t run far, and hopefully you’ll hear the splash if they do!

As the non-parent on our trips, I’m not in a position where I can claim to give many real hints and tips on the huge amount of planning that the mums and dads have to do to make these trips happen. All I’ll say is that kids will always have wet socks and wet trousers, whatever you have told them not to do, so bring lots of those! Also, that you need to know their clothing is good, and will keep them warm, and that these trips will never be lightweight ones, you need that back up of a little extra gear, and a few luxuries.

Finally, when the weather turns, and things seem a bit bleak, you can pretty much guarantee that the last people to get fazed and fed up are the kids, they just adapt and take it in their stride.