Story and photos:
Angela Ward
Adam Evans
“The secret of all victory lies in the organisation of the non-obvious.”
Marcus Aurelius
Sometimes appearances can be deceptive. A handful of pretty photos and interesting videos posted on social media may give little indication as to what has happened in order to produce those photos and videos. There is a starting point to a paddling expedition and also a finishing point. The expedition starts weeks, months and sometimes years previously and involves meticulous planning.
This trip was less about journeying with a paddle but more about journeying lesser travelled places, involving portaging, sailing, portaging, lining and yet more portaging!
Thanks
Adam and I would like to thank Outdoorfood.com for their kind sponsorship as being able to reduce the size and weight of our food supplies was really beneficial. I’d like to give my thanks to Jude at Downcreek Paddles for crafting me a lovely new deep-dish carrying yoke, which was certainly much appreciated during portages.
Morar madness
We knew that the route from Loch Morar to Loch Arkaig involved following an ambiguous path between rugged mountains and over a col. We knew that Oban bothy was closed for the deer-stalking season. We knew the terrain would be undulating and boggy. We knew there’d be midges. We knew the weather forecast was ’typically Scottish’ i.e wet and windy. We knew that although we had canoe trolleys, the lack of roads meant that they’d be useless for most the trip. We knew that we could more than likely be the only two solo paddlers attempting the portage this year.
It was likely to be most arduous/gruelling/challenging physical outdoor activity that either Adam or myself had ever undertaken. He’s a professional outdoor instructor but I’m “only a girl” so I did well to keep up. Anyone who knows me in real-life will tell you how delicate I am. Yeah right!
There is something delightfully absurd about carrying a canoe across a mountain. There was no doubt that we would be able to do it and there were two reasons for this:
- We knew that we were capable.
- Failure was not an option.
One of the biggest planning challenges was endeavouring to keep kit weight to a minimum, whilst remaining within the realms of safety or spending hundreds of pounds on extra-light specialist kit. On previous expeditions, we were able to take more in the way of food and various utensils to cook it but based on the fact that we would now have to physically carry everything that we needed, some more considered planning was required.
Fortunately, Outdoorfood.com were kind enough to sponsor us when they heard of our stupid venture and they provided us with three meals each per day. We were both very impressed with their Firepot meals. They were quick to prepare and tasted really good. Breakfast was Posh Pork and Beans, and it was indeed posh. The other meals in their range are Orzo Bolognaise, Chilli with Rice, Porcini Risotto and Dal with Lentils. They all had a high nom, nom, nom factor and would be perfect for this trip. Light to carry, fast to cook and very tasty.
Day one Monday
After long hours of winding roads, we arrived at Heatherlea B&B, near Mallaig. Pretty much straightaway, we experienced our first micro portage of the trip, due to the fact that there was a small railway bridge on the approach road to the B&B which was too low for the car and boats to negotiate. The lounge of the guest house served as a perfect place to do final checks on our expedition kit. The terrain looked somewhat unforgiving but we were very well-prepared.
Day two
A hearty breakfast provided a deep calorie upload and we continued preparation. On previous expeditions, we had one large and one smaller portage bag but this time, we were pretty ruthless with what we took. We set off from the jetty at Loch Morar in dull and drizzly conditions. We paddled a little way and then the wind picked up to an easy F2-3 so we quickly set up our sails and cruised steadily to the end of the loch.
On our previous trip across Rannoch Moor, Adam described me as a ’Class A cheat’ on account of my large Endless River sail with an integral window. Suffice it to say that my superior sail (which is 30% bigger than his and goes to show that size really is everything), which enabled me to accelerate away from Adam at an impressive rate of knots. There was no way that I could slow down unless I dropped my sail completely so I carried on storming ahead whilst Adam trailed behind me in the far distance.
At the time of writing this article, Adam decided that he needed to join the ranks of the Class A cheats. On my return from a recent training week in Devon, I called in to Endless River HQ and Dave kindly supplied me with a sail and some cordage.
Sailing into the narrows of the loch, we were decked in sunshine and the crags rose steeply from the edges of the tiny feeding river. Knowing that days of lugging kit lay ahead was both inspiring and daunting, just as adventures should be! With still a couple of hours of daylight, we decided to commenced the savage portage. We knew the bothy was shut because it was the deer-stalking season and the padlocked door confirmed this as we cruised past. We’d planned in advance to tarp-camp as taking tents would only have added more weight to the kit which we had to carry.
The terrain itself was somewhat unforgiving and isolated. Steep undulating hillsides alternating with sodden peaty sections made for exasperating conditions. Adam walked more quickly than myself, quite possibly due to his incredibly long legs. We settled into a routine of him walking ahead at his pace and me going at mine. It’s far more sensible to do this than me trying to match him for speed.
I couldn’t decide whether it was worse to carry a 15-foot canoe on my shoulders and have the wind trying to wrench it from my hands or simultaneously carrying two large portage bags and risk falling face-first into a peat bog!
Either way we quickly became aware that walking back and forth carrying boats and kit was quickly tearing through calories. Sustaining an injury in the middle of nowhere could have led to serious repercussions so we pressed on with determination and mindfulness, both of ourselves and our surroundings.
Day three
After another tasty breakfast of Posh Pork and Beans, we set off on the next section of the portage. It was basically mountaineering with canoes, paddles, poles, and portage bags in wet and windy conditions. The ground was slippy and slidy and sinking up to your knees in peat bogs was a regular occurrence. At one point, Adam was walking a little way in front of whilst carrying his boat.
One minute he was there. In a split-second, he’d vanished and only the hull of his boat was visible. I could then see his hands appear from the underneath of his boat and grip the gunwales. He successfully managed to extricate himself from whatever bog he’d fallen into, which is just as well, because I couldn’t help him for laughing.
Occasionally we could slide canoes down grassy slopes, but generally it was too rocky and we didn’t want to risk damaging our boats. We crossed several clear streams in spate. We went up and down hills, negotiated several false summits following ambiguous paths. I became somewhat of a ’midge-magnet’ whilst Adam seemed to escape the vicious little critters.
For what seemed like hours, the taunting flat green sections of easy-looking ground never appeared to get much closer. On occasions, the path itself narrowed to less than a foot wide, with a 10-metre drop to one side and steep ground on the other side. It certainly paid to be sure-footed. Finally, we used ropes to slide the boats down a small slope at the end of the portage and then emerged onto the much needed flat grass section. We had succeeded in breaking the back of the portage and entered Glen Pean. It would be all downhill from here. Finding the top of the river at Glen Pean, a tiny 1.5 metre wide stream a few inches deep, we managed to line them for approx 2km.
It was such a relief to be able to walk in one direction after the previous two days of going backwards and forwards. Being able to use traditional lining skills certainly saved us a great deal of time and energy. Slowly the river deepened and widened which allowed us to paddle onwards and into a small loch. Under globules of thick heavy rain, we paddled past three wilderness fishermen who looked very bemused. I’m sure they were questioning how on earth we’d managed to get there in our canoes!
The anticipation of cruising gently onto Loch Arkaig was a welcome prospect but unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. A combination of tight rapids and fully laden canoes meant that we had to switch to lining and of course, yet another portage.
There was a chunky Grade 3 section in a gorge with steep-sided banks. With light boats and fresh minds, it would have been fun to pick a line and paddle it. Considering that we’d had an extremely strenuous two days and were in an isolated location, a discretionary portage was the only sensible option. When there is doubt, there is no doubt. After about 800m portaging, we managed to get back onto the water for the final few kilometres of gentle smooth meandering river which carried us into Loch Arkaig.
We cruised to our right finding a small beach where we could set up our tarp and enjoy stunning views of the loch. One very unexpected sight was of a tiny frog which we could see inching slowly up the outside of the tarp. It moved so slowly towards the top of the tarp and then put on a burst of speed which caused it to nose-dive over the top and land headfirst right in front of me. Remaining motionless and ’frogs legs akimbo’ for several minutes before it finally scuttled off into the grass. Sitting with this joyous view whilst savouring our Firepot Orzo Bolognaise and drinking steaming hot chocolate, we felt tired but encouraged.
After our staple breakfast of Posh Pork and Beans, we set sail from the beach at Loch Arkaig and covered most of the loch using wind power, lashing the canoes together to take advantage of my mega sail. A Eurofighter Typhoon then approached and spotted us on the water. It circled, came up the loch before dropping altitude, flying directly overhead and opening it’s afterburners toward us. The noise was deafening but it was a brilliant experience and if it was any closer we’d have been dried out by the afterburner! We put up the sails again whilst on the water and made for the end of the loch and a short canoe trolley portage. By now, a couple of kilometres appeared little more than a stroll.
We had already made the decision to portage the Arkaig River section to Loch Lochy but we paused at the weir en route.There was a faint line that we could possibly have paddled but to attempt it in a fully laden expedition canoe would have been foolhardy. There would have been no escape if we’d taken a swim. It’s a good skill to ask yourself, “What could go wrong?” In addition to this, I was unable to wear my paddlesuit due to a damaged neck seal and we hadn’t taken our whitewater helmets on the trip in order to save space and weight. The risks far outweighed the benefits so portaging was the sensible option.
We arrived at Loch Lochy at the end of a physically and mentally draining day. I was riddled with midge bites and somewhat to Adam’s concern, my face had started to swell up. Bearing in mind that I didn’t have to contend with looking at my bitten and swollen face. I was more concerned with the discovery that one of my kneepads had vanished. I adopted the ’adapt, improvise and overcome strategy’, constructed a woolly hat and bungee cord knee-protector and we got back on the water.
Day five
We woke up to the clear blue skies and calm waters of Loch Lochy. The bizarre experience of carrying our canoes and kit across a mountain seemed like a distant memory. The prediction was for F3 headwinds but instead we paddled on calm waters in glorious sunshine. Our only concern was the presence of other water users who were bigger and faster than us. It was so warm that we needed to quench our thirst with a pint of cider at the Letterfinlay Lodge Hotel. We also thought it wise to refuel our bodies with freshly cooked chips. And burgers. And apple pie. And lattes. And more cider. It was at this point that we decided to make the most of the sunshine by paddling across the lake and set up a beach tarp camp. It was brilliant to enjoy a much-needed leisurely afternoon and evening, doing very little apart from chatting and enjoying our surroundings, because knowing when to rest is as key as knowing when to press on.
Day six
As the hotel was less then 1km away we had promised ourselves a cooked Scottish breakfast over at the hotel. We packed up our kit, paddled back across the loch and did the shortest portage of the trip so far, up the drive to the hotel. After initially being declined breakfast because we weren’t residents, one of the staff recognised us from the day before and we shown to a table and welcomed as temporary residents. This was probably just as well because by this point, the wafting smell of hot cooked food was drawing me closer to the serving dishes. I would possibly have resorted to physical violence or hysterical tears if I had been denied my sausage and bacon.
After a much-appreciated breakfast, I escorted Adam down the road to the bus stop, a bus to Fort William duly arrived and off he went into the distance. I headed back to the hotel and settled down on an incredibly comfortable sofa, armed with a latte and a piece of cake. I spread out my maps on a coffee table with the expectation that I’d be able to relax for around four hours, by which time Adam would have collected his car from Loch Morar and driven back to Loch Lochy. I hadn’t even drunk a single sip of latte when my plans for doing as little as possible came to an unexpected halt.
One of the staff came to find me and asked, “What do you think that is?” She was pointing at a mysterious floating object on the loch. I had no idea what it was, so I zoomed in to take a photo and the waitress, the chef and myself attempted to analyse what we could see. It was a large suitcase/trunk-type structure with wooden struts underneath it.
UFO
The chef was extremely concerned that the UFO (Unidentified Floating Object) could be a watery hazard so he asked if I knew anyone who had a boat. Bearing in mind that we’d rocked up by boat the day before and that my boat and kit was now on the lawn outside the hotel, it seemed pointless to deny the fact that I did indeed have a boat.
I must confess that the thought of yet another portage wasn’t exactly appealing but the thought of doing my public duty was very strong. It was at this point that the chef informed me that the Coastguard had been called. I felt a wave of relief surge over me that the professionals were now on hand and my paddling services would no longer required… or so I thought.
After chatting to the Fort William Coastguard Team, it transpired that they did not have a boat. They deemed the UFO to be a potential hazard so me and my Paddy were commandeered to carry out the salvage operation.
Joking aside, conditions on the loch were relatively calm. I’d already checked the weather forecast and so was happy to oblige. After a brief downhill portage, I lined my boat around the headland, set up my swimlines and painters, put on my buoyancy aid and headed off towards the UFO. The Coastguard team leader had asked if I needed a tandem paddler but I politely declined. Based on my previous experiences of rescuing things, I was confident of my ability as a solo salvage paddler, plus an unknown and possibly unskilled tandem paddler could have put me at risk.
In a short space of time, I’d paddled out around 300m and reached the UFO. I still had no idea what it was but it was larger than I expected. I used a Highwayman’s hitch to fasten my stern swimline through a metal loop and then set off back to the shore. By this point, a small crowd had assembled on the beach to watch me and my Paddy towing the UFO. As well as being large, it was also very heavy but we made steady progress.
Once we’d got to around 40m from the shore, a Coastguard swimmer headed out to meet me. He clipped onto the middle of my swimline so the on-shore team could then haul in him, me, Paddy and the UFO. By this time, the wind had picked up slightly so I was grateful for some manly assistance.
After disembarking, we gathered around the UFO to try and ascertain what it was. The general consensus of opinion was that it seemed to be an upturned section of jetty which must have broken loose. After the UFO had safely been dragged out of the water and off the beach, we all headed back to the hotel and enjoyed complimentary bacon and egg butties.
The Fort William Coastguard Team are actively involved in water rescue training on rivers and lochs. They use the facilities of a canoe hire station which is adjacent to their headquarters. They paddle canoes and then do capsize practice so they can experience what it feels like and also how difficult it can be to get back into the canoes.
The main message from them is, “No Training, No Go.” They are called out several times a year to help people in difficulty on the water, many of whom have hired canoes but have little or no experience of canoeing. They paddle on the relatively calm warm waters of the Caledonian Canal and then hit the lochs. When the wind picks up, conditions on the lochs can resemble those on the North Sea. If appropriate clothing isn’t worn, hypothermia sets in very quickly. Even with a buoyancy aid or life jacket, the chances of swimming to the safety of the shore are relatively slim.
Whilst I was working hard, Adam was relaxing on public transport. I sent him a few photos while the salvage operation was in progress and I think he was slightly baffled but quite proud. I haven’t received specific coaching on how to rescue anything apart from people and boats but it seems like I have transferable skills which are useful!
This seemed like a fitting finale to what had been a fantastic canoe-mountaineering adventure!
