Story: Angela Ward and
Adam Evans
Photos: Adam Evans and
Angela Ward
Day one: Thursday, 29th March 2018
After an uneventful drive up to Glenfinnan, we successfully located our accommodation for the night, a sleeper carriage at the Glenfinnan Railway Museum, barely a few metres from the platform itself. It may not have been Platform 9¾, although the opportunity to spend a night in the Harry Potter Hogwarts Express was enough to convince a 6ft 3in tall man to willingly sleep in a bunk bed which was barely six-foot long.
Moonlight on Moidart
After our usual long-haul journey up to bonny Scotland, we’ve found that it pays to have a good night’s sleep in a dry venue the night before we get onto the water. It means we can add the finishing touches to planning and gear prep. To have hot showers, a dining car and a kitchen for only £15 each was more than perfect.
We shared the accommodation with some other stationary train travellers who had arrived on foot and we swapped stories about our adventures. However, when we told them we would be paddling the length of Loch Shiel, they did say, “You do know it’s a very long way?” as if it would be an impossible task and then asked, “Is there anything to see at the end of Loch Shiel?” I’m not sure what they would expect to see there – Sydney Opera House perhaps? The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Herds of wildebeest sweeping majestically…?
Considering the variable nature of Scottish weather, we’d be grateful to have good visibility of anything really!
After an evening meal of cheese, croissants and a bottle of Tempranillo, we spent the night in our ‘compact bijou residence’, with me on the top bunk and the man-child snoring down below.
Day two
After a cosy night in the miniature bunk-beds, we headed for the Glenfinnan Tourist Information Office. Under the curious gaze of tourists at the Glenfinnan Monument, we met up once again with Colin Skeath MBE, who had kindly agreed to help us with car shuttles, in return for cake and marzipan delights.
Whilst Adam and Colin shot off in convoy to Castle Tioram, at the far end of the Shiel and Moidart system, I kept myself occupied by chatting to the car park attendant and sharing my impressive knowledge about Harry Potter with the unsuspecting tourists who were hoping to catch a glimpse of Hogwarts’ Express steaming and clattering across the Glenfinnan Viaduct in all its glory.
Whilst enjoying some active relaxation in the sunshine, i.e sprawling on the grass whilst drinking coffee, I had a brief chat with Sir Ray Goodwin by FB Messenger. He cheekily suggested that I should paddle off with Adam’s boat in tow so that he’d have to swim to catch up and then told me to stop procrastinating, which was good timing as the shuttle vehicle boys had now returned.
The fellas duly returned at around 11.30 hours and there was a jovial exchange of greetings and Easter gifts. We presented Colin with an assortment of pirate-themed plasters, (perfect for a nautical first aid kit) and a box of Niederegger marzipan miniatures. In return we received two pieces of Simnel cake which had been made by Colin’s mum. I’m not sure if marzipan features regularly as a food choice for expedition, paddlers although I think it should.
As Adam and I portaged our boats and kit past the Glenfinnan Monument, I think that we may have become temporary tourist attractions. I received a compliment about my, “Very nice hat,” which makes a refreshing change from the usual comment, “Look at that man in the big boat.” Clearly wearing a 15-foot canoe on my head enhances my femininity. If only I was as pretty as Adam, this confusion would never arise.
After a relatively short portage, by our standards, we were organised and set up our sailing rigs in order to maximise the gentle breeze. In typical fashion, the wind dropped almost immediately and we reverted to paddle power. Within a very short space of time, the wind picked up yet again so we quickly set up our sails, steering lazily using our Downcreek WW Big Dippers, the wind nudging our sails from behind, like a kindly hand hurrying us along.
We sailed effortlessly until the sun began to fall and then found camp near Gaskan Woods.
Making the best of the crisp dry air and to savour the view, we sat outside cooking some fine good, courtesy again of ‘Angela’s Paddle Exped Catering Services.’ Ribeye steaks and sliced potatoes sizzled in a cast-iron skillet atop of an ethical ‘leave no trace’ firebox. We relaxed on the warm shingle beach, smoke from the fire cooking and flavouring our fried potatoes, which was duly wafted away by the evening breeze.
In the far distance, we spied two canoes coming towards us, easily visible thanks to their vibrant Endless River sails. Colin had mentioned that two of his friends were also planning a Shiel trip that weekend. By the power of my camera zoom and a photo message to Colin, we were able to confirm that they were indeed his friends Martin and Nikki.
Day three
Whilst we cooked breakfast, the brisk morning wind encouraged us to huddle behind large rocks on the shoreline of the loch. It was dry, which was a blessing, but to sit mid-wind would have been a bitter start after the already crisp night. Wood smoke scented pancakes from the open fire set us up perfectly for the chilly day ahead. We had no particular itinerary for the day except to simply enjoy being on the water. All too often, we complete trips with the agenda of getting from A to B as if it is merely a task to be completed. It’s far more satisfying to take the time to explore rather than potentially miss the secret little locations, which definitely warrant a closer look.
Kit packed up and all trace of our presence cleared away, we hoisted our sails and set off on a brisk and moody day, our boats effortlessly carving turns in the breeze. Bearing left around the meandering peaty pools of the River Polloch, we weaved between low overhanging branches until the water became so shallow than it flowed between the pebbles rather than over them.
To our right, as if by design, lay a long log on its shingle beach which would make for a perfect natural seat. Set back and slightly elevated from the river, we found a small tipi-sized area of flat land, encircled by the heather. It would have been rude not to make use of such a perfect location. We set up camp quickly and making the most of the remaining hours of daylight, the exploration continued on foot to Loch Doilet. Not for any particular reason other than to sit for a while and possibly skim a stone or two and as we walked back to our tipi, the sun slowly began to set.
Despite the cold air and clouds, everything was dry, even down to the long grass and the twigs in the trees. It made sense to practice the ‘old ways’ and coax a fire from a single spark onto a charcloth, using natural flint and iron strikers. Coaxing and blowing the ember onto the tinder, we had a crackling fire going within minutes, upon which we could cook in a leisurely fashion.
As the night drew in, we enjoyed another ribeye steak cooked over an open fire, surrounded by moonlight starry skies. The temperature had slowly been dropping and our boats and paddles were now covered with a thin layer of frost. Despite this, we remained warm with bellies full of food, excellent insulated jackets, our winter paddling hats and our small yet efficient fire. After our previous trip from Rannoch Moor to Perth in March 2017 which involved paddling through a blizzard and camping in sub-zero temperatures, this night felt almost tropical!
Day four
Hot Aches! That’s what you get from folding frozen canvas in the morning whilst taking down the camp. The trick is to keep active and ignore the pain. Unless of course you’re the type who likes pain! It had been a very cold night with ice building up around the hoods of our sleeping bags, which thankfully now thawed in the rising sun on a bright blue Spring morning sky, peppered with gorgeous fluffy white clouds.
Carving our canoes around the gentle meanders of the River Polloch and down onto Loch Shiel, we made a brief stop on Eilean Finnan before heading off to civilisation, i.e the village of Acharacle. We decided to stow our boats and potter along to the pub, as obviously one of the major rules of expedition paddling is not to miss the opportunity of using a ‘porcelain throne’.
The staff welcomed us very warmly and a stranger playing darts with his friends greeted us with a grand hello and insisted he buy us both a drink. Now usually I wouldn’t accept drinks from a stranger but it would have been rude to refuse a wee dram.
Not being a connoisseur of whisky, I opted for a ‘Tobermoray’ based solely on the fact that I used to enjoy watching the Wombles as a child. Adam had a ‘Knockando’ because of the fond memories of paddling Knockando Rapids on the Spey with me in September 2015.
The written descriptions of flavour were far more poetic. “Knockando. The 2003 vintage of Knockando’s season bottling. Aged in bourbon casks for 12 years, this is light and fruity” and “Tobermoray has come a long way since previous years. It has a full body, powerful taste of salty toffee, smoky vanilla with a hint of orange peel.” Personally, I think Adam just liked the idea of trying ‘light and fruity’.
The pub seemed like the perfect location to reflect upon the last time I’d experienced the Shiel in 2014 and to compare then with now. Then, I was a novice tandem paddler. Now, I’m a competent solo paddler. I have fond memories of my first visit but revisiting really reminded me of how very far I’ve come in canoeing, both metaphorically and in reality.
It was also the perfect location to look at the tide tables and check the weather forecast for the days ahead. We also identified on the map where there were possible camping locations. We’d need flat land, good shelter and sources of fresh water because we obviously wouldn’t be able to draw drinking water from Loch Moidart.
The plan was to time our transition from the River Shiel onto the salty waters of Loch Moidart when the tide was in, which would save time and effort at the end of a long day. We accomplished this perfectly as there were barely a few riffles to demarcate where the river met the sea. Back in 2014, the tide was out and all the boats had to be lined down the channel as the tidal drop was deemed too risky to paddle by our group leader. I’d never witnessed lining before and never knew such a thing was possible. While the rest of the group ate their lunch, I stood and watched from the small wooden bridge, transfixed by several fully-laden boats being carefully guided down the cascading rocky waters.
The weather forecast was crucial. There was a possibility of strong winds and snow over the next few days and this obviously would have a bearing on our plans.
As the light began to fade, we paddled around the coastline in search of a suitable location to pitch the tipi. Scouting from the water, many locations looked great but as we went on a closer recce, frustratingly they were boggy, rocky or too uneven to sleep on. As the tide was receding, we also didn’t relish the prospect of being stuck on mud flats, hundreds of metres from the shore.
It’s at times like this that we ask ourselves, “Why can’t a wilderness adventure be easy, safe and accessible?” Of course we know the answer. If it was easy, everyone would be doing it!
As we paddled onwards into Faodhail Dubh, we found a well-sheltered spit of land tucked at the very end of the loch. There was just enough room for our tipi and two large canoes. In true bushcraft style, fresh running water had to be found. Digging down to create a catch pool deep enough to help the silt settle, we filled every water bottle and bag that we’d brought. If the weather came which was forecast, we could have been pinned in for 48 hours. going to be alright.
Our chosen location afforded us access to a minor road which was within walking distance. We felt this was prudent just in case the predicted bad weather closed in upon us, making it too unsafe to paddle. It would have been a bit of a trek back to Castle Tioram to collect the car although perfectly doable if necessary.
There was also the promise of snow too, so filling up water supplies now meant spending less time filling up later in the cold.
There’s something incredibly reassuring about a solid tent on a solid pitch with fresh water nearby and a supply of great food, or as Adam would probably say, “A smorgasbord of salivatory nibbles.” It brings with it a tremendous sense of calm. We just knew everything was going to be ok, no matter what Mother Nature may decide to throw at us.
Part two in the winter issue.
