Loch Ericht

Wednesday 5th June 2013

On this day, I didn’t start walking until after lunch and this really helped me get back the energy that I had lost during the punishing schedule of my Great Trail through the Cairngorms that had left me exhausted and really tired, largely thanks to the heavy, painfully uncomfortable rucksack that I was using. I didn’t climb any hills on the day before this walk and again on this day I also didn’t climb any hills as I prepared for the final stage of my holiday. My plan was to walk from the Dalwhinnie railway station along an old drove road, used by cattle thieves centuries ago, all the way to Fort William passing beside Loch Ossian where I’d spent a thoroughly enjoyable weekend last year. Because of the late start to the walk I didn’t really make much progress towards Fort William, but I still managed to have a good day, even though it didn’t start particularly well.

I had stayed for the night in the popular tourist town of Pitlochry and needed to buy some food for my three day trek to Fort William. In Braemar, the local outdoors shop had stocked high-calorie camping food that was ideal for me, but there seemed to be nowhere in Pitlochry that sold what I wanted. Being new to camping I wasn’t sure what the alternatives were and with the local Co-op not being helpful I was fearing that I was going to starve until I found some dried pasta and sauce packets in a small Premier store. Although not as nutritious as specifically designed camping food it sufficed and I was able to get to Fort William without starving. But before then, I had to catch a train to the tiny hamlet of Dalwhinnie on the edge of the Cairngorms National Park. This is the first stop the train makes after going over the Drumochter Pass, the highest point on the British national rail network, and it is a bleak deserted place with very few houses, but there is a whisky distillery.

I am partial to a bit of the water of life, so I couldn’t resist taking a tour around the distillery and sampling the whisky, which I found to be very nice with a fruity taste and a vanilla scent. I generally favour the stronger, smokier whiskies, so it was a surprise for me to find how lovely is the Dalwhinnie. After eating my packed lunch outside the distillery, I set off towards Loch Ericht and onto the Thieves Road beside the loch. Dalwhinnie was an important crossing point between the west coast at Fort William and the rich lands of the east, or over the Drumochter pass to the south. Loch Ericht has now been dammed at both ends, but it was a slightly smaller, narrower loch when cattle were being driven beside it. Now a wide track runs along the length of the loch and provided me with an easy stroll under sunny skies between the loch and Loch Ericht Forest. This was mostly dark coniferous plantations, but where the sun was able to get through primrose was able to grow and enliven my walk.

The track beside Loch Ericht is usually cycled by Munro baggers when trying to climb the remote mountains of Ben Alder and its neighbours, but I was enjoying walking along its length despite being occasionally passed by cyclists because I knew I wasn’t going to be climbing a mountain this day. Just before reaching Ben Alder Lodge the track veers away from the shore of the loch, passing high above the impressive buildings of the lodge and into the moorland that sits before Ben Alder itself. A well-made, dry path took me across this boggy ground to the Culra Bothy; all the while the impressive bulk of Ben Alder loomed darkly ahead of me. Compared with the Corrie Etchachan bothy that I had stayed in the previous week, this was a mansion able to sleep many people in comparative luxury. It was deserted when I got there, but since it was still quite early and the weather was great I decided that I would press on towards Ben Alder and the top of the pass.

I had climbed Ben Alder last year, but now I was heading towards the great mountain from the opposite direction. Dark clouds lingered over the mountain, but the sun was shining all around which made Ben Alder seem an ominous place to be feared, and yet it constantly attracted my attention. It had a brooding presence that seemed to draw me on as I headed up the valley in lovely sunshine along an excellent path beside the delightful cascades of the Allt a’ Bheallaich Dhuibh. Just before reaching the top of the pass of Bealach Dubh, I decided to stop at an excellent spot beside the stream to pitch up my tent. This was actually the wildest wild camp I had done yet because my three previous camps had all been near to a landrover track. I was camped on a slender patch of land between the footpath and the stream looking straight down the valley, and I loved it. This was an important day for me to get my strength back, and the short, easy walk in sensational surroundings was just what I needed.

The Pass of Killiecrankie

Tuesday 4th June 2013

I didn’t sleep well before this walk, which was a shame as I was really in need of a good night’s sleep after walking all around the Cairngorms carrying a very heavy and uncomfortable rucksack. I was really tired, but throughout this holiday when I was in my tent I slept very badly and I wasn’t recovering when staying in youth hostels. I had not walking up Beinn A’ Ghlo (the Munro that I camped below) the previous day hoping that I would be refreshed enough the next day to climb it, but that failed to be the case so ultimately I had to give the mountain a thoroughly disappointing miss. Once I’d decided that I would not be going up Beinn A’ Ghlo I packed up and set off down Glen Tilt, and had a really pleasurable walk. The river in Glen Tilt is very picturesque as it passes over many rocky cascades, and the valley itself improved immensely after Gilbert's Bridge as the valley-bottom track passed into a lovely wood filled with wild flowers as the river meanders over many cascades on its way downstream.

The day had started rather overcast, but it wasn’t long before the clouds broke leaving a bright sunny day that would have made for a great day to be walking, but instead of climbing a mountain I was enjoying a gloriously slow descent down Glen Tilt to the small town of Blair Atholl. When I reached the road at the Old Bridge of Tilt I found a delightful path between the road and the river through a woodland floor that was covered with strongly scented, white flowered wild garlic. It was a wonderful sight, the highlight of the walk, to see the flowers completely covering the river bank. This short path soon led me to the Bridge of Tilt and the town of Blair Atholl that marks the end of my Great Trail through the Cairngorms. My walk had started a week earlier in Aviemore, and seven days and more than a hundred miles later after passing all the most significant mountains in the area (but only going to the top of one of them) it had ended at the foot of Glen Tilt near the southern tip of the Cairngorms National Park.

Since it was only midday I decided to take up the suggestion of the couple who’d provided me with a lift the previous day to the Linn of Dee, and walk through the Pass of Killiecrankie to Pitlochry. This turned out to be a brilliant suggestion all the way through as I walked along a wonderful flower-filled path between the River Garry and A9 trunk road. After passing under the A9 I joined a quarry road, which was less interesting, that led to the village of Killiecrankie. After a quick visit to a visitor centre, I started to walk through the deep, wooded gorge of the Pass of Killiecrankie that I found to be an absolutely magical place. To me this long gorge, that is an important link between the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland, is a great place worthy of all the attention it has simply because of the natural beauty of the gorge. However, historians look at the place differently, an important battle was fought here between the Jacobites and government troops in 1689, and that the Jacobites won is an example of the advantage gained from having the higher ground.

Ignoring the historical aspect, I really enjoyed my walk through a thickly wooded gorge that is filled with many wild flowers including wild garlic, stitchwort and wood anemone. I continued to walk beside the river beyond the pass, after the junction with the River Tummel, on a pleasant path that led me through a variety of scenes, along the water’s edge and through natural woodland all the way to the town of Pitlochry. I was generally just taking it easy on this walk, trying to regain my energy after exhausting myself so completely while walking through the Cairngorms. Although I didn’t climb any hills on this walk and never ventured far from civilisation I still had a thoroughly enjoyable day as I walked through the woodland at the bottom of these valleys. This was a very different sort of walking to what I used to do in Scotland when I would have climbed at least twenty Munros in less than two weeks, but this was much more relaxing and I liked it.

I had pushed myself too hard on my Great Trail through the Cairngorms, especially because I had been carrying a very heavy rucksack that was cutting into my hip and collar bones. By the end of the trail I was not only very tired and weary, but aching all over from having to carry such a heavy load in such an old rucksack. On this holiday I was beginning to realise just how important rest days are, for anyone, no matter how old they are. I have had problems with fatigue on most of my Scottish holidays, not just this one, but it’s been taking me a long time to learn how to overcome it. Taking it easy in the first week may be the answer. Although I did take it easy at first on this holiday, by the middle of the first week I had dived into doing long mountain walks every day while carrying a heavy rucksack with no rest for many days, so it was about time I took it easy and although on this day I still walked quite a long way, richly-flowered wooded valleys were just the rest I needed.

Linn of Dee and into Glen Tilt

Monday 3rd June 2013

On this walk, I was really tired. I’d felt tired on the previous Friday evening and considered taking a rest on the Saturday, but in the end I didn’t and instead I did a long, exhausting two-day walk to Glen Doll and back. By this Monday my exertions had caught up with me and I desperately needed a rest, but I wasn’t able to do that as I was still making my way along my great trail through the Cairngorms. Despite my fatigue I actually managed to complete a lot more of the trail than I’d anticipated and one can only wonder what I would have achieved if I hadn’t been so tired. After posting back home a package of stuff I didn’t need any more I set off from the lovely village of Braemar along the road to the Linn of Dee. There is no public transport along this six or seven mile road so, just as in 2009, I had a long, dreary walk along the road and, just as in 2009, before reaching Victoria Bridge I was given a lift by a kind couple. I had considered using off-road paths, but was hoping for a lift (even though I wasn’t thumbing for one) so I stayed on the road until someone took pity on me. I had already walked quite a way and was quite happy to continue all the way to Linn of Dee, but more than happy to be given a lift.

After being dropped off at the Linn of Dee I had a look at the spectacular narrows on the River Dee that give the place its name. In 2009 I hadn’t visited the Linn of Dee so this was my first sight and it was worth the diversion to see the water plunging through the narrow, rocky ravine at this popular tourist spot. When I was ready to start my walk the couple who had given me a lift was also just about to start theirs, so I accompanied them through the empty glen of the River Dee. The 1:25,000 scale OS map reveals that we were passing the ruined remains of the Tonnagaoithe, Dubrach, Tomnamoine, and Dalvorar townships. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries these and other townships in many other glens in the Highlands of Scotland were emptied to make room for sheep and deer. It is tragic that at one time there were thriving communities in this part of Deeside, but no more and instead there are stone rectangles on the ground and sheep on the hillside

At White Bridge I parted company with the couple who had given me a lift to Linn of Dee as they continued up Glen Dee while I went over the bridge and turned south towards Glen Tilt alongside the Geldie Burn. The weather was very good for walking with a high covering of clouds that maintained warm, overcast conditions and helped me keep going despite weary muscles, though admittedly on a pretty easy walk and with very little ascent, just a long trudge along valleys. Between Red House and Bynack Lodge I had to ford the river several times and my old boots finally started to complain and let in copious amounts of water, but my waterproof socks kept my feet dry. My boots had been holding together satisfactorily until this point when they began to show their age after successive deep submersions through the river. Further and further on, I walked along the track at the bottom of the valley until eventually I reached the highest point on the walk, the top of the pass, near Loch Tilt.

My path up till now had been rather dull as I walked along wide tracks, but now the path narrowed, which is always more interesting to walk along, as my route took me into a narrow, steep sided valley beside the Allt Garbh Buidhe. This was spectacular scenery to be walking through, far better than the gentle sided hills around Deeside, and it only got better when I reached the divine Falls of Tarf, but as I entered Glen Tilt my eyes turned upwards to the enormous mountain south of the valley: Beinn A’ Ghlo. I have wanted to climb this Munro for a long time, but by this point my fatigue had reached such an extent that I could hardly take one foot in front of another, let alone climb a mountain. I quickly realised that no matter how much I may have wanted to climb Beinn A’Ghlo it wouldn’t be this day, so I decided to continue walking down the valley and camp lower down. I would have to think about climbing Beinn A’ Ghlo another day.

Glen Tilt is an amazing valley; it is almost arrow straight with steep sides and a river chock full of rocks and rapids. Despite being immensely tired and yearning to stop and make camp I continued walking down the valley on a wide track beside the river passing farms overflowing with sheep until eventually I found an idyllic spot to stop for the night. Unfortunately my fatigue nearly killed this walk. I could have accomplished so much more, including climbing the Munros on Beinn A’ Ghlo, but my energy levels were so depleted I could barely put up my tent. I suppose my decision on Friday not to take a rest day was coming back to bite me and potentially ruin the second week of my holiday. I’ve already mentioned that my old boots were letting in water, and I’ve mentioned my ill-fitting rucksack on previous posts. I was carrying a very heavy load in a old rucksack that was absolute torture to wear with the straps eating into my hips and shoulders. Unfortunately I’d spent so much on a tent and a sleeping bag this year I had nothing left for a new rucksack or boots. However, despite the pain and despite not climbing any hills on this walk I still enjoyed it.

The Capel Mounth and the Lochnagar Path

Sunday 2nd June 2013

On the second day of my weekend trip to Glen Doll I woke up in a tent near the Angus Glens Ranger Base to bright sunshine as another wonderful day dawned. I am very new to staying in a tent having previously shunned tents in favour of Youth Hostels, but since the hostel in Glen Doll was closed a few years ago I had no choice but bring a tent, and I was finding it an interesting experience. On this morning I was particularly surprised at how wet was my tent. It hadn’t rained, in fact the clear skies of the previous evening had continued right through into the morning, and yet my tent was covered in droplets of water both inside and out. Presumably the outside water was dew and the inside was condensation, but I wanted to get going as quickly as possible … would I have to wait a couple of hours before packing up the tent until it’s dried out? There seemed to be more to staying in a tent than I’d realised.

Leaving my camp site near the Angus Glens Ranger Base I set off beside the River South Esk along one of the waymarked trails in the wood before crossing the river and taking a very old path that slants diagonally up the side of the valley. This is the start of the Capel Mounth Path that runs from the Spittal of Glenmuick to Glen Clova and the Braes of Angus. The range of hills to the south of the River Dee is often referred to as the Mounth and this was a route over the Mounth to the hospital and chapel that used to be in Glen Muick. My Harvey Map calls this path the Capel Road and it seemed to me a good route out of Glen Doll, but I was reluctant to leave. As the path zigzagged up the hillside I was constantly looking back down the valley and into the small side valley of Glen Doll where the northern crags of the Munros, Mayar and Driesh, were taunting me with what I was missing. I hadn’t left myself enough time to explore Glen Doll and I was particularly gutted to have missed out on visiting the stunning Corrie Fee.

I had been over-ambitious in my plans for this weekend and failed to achieve my goals in visiting Glen Doll, but at least I now had an excuse to return. After climbing many zigzags I crossed a heather-clad moor under the overcast skies that had quickly developed. The terrain around me was rather dull, but my eye was attracted elsewhere to the unmistakable top of Lochnagar across the valley northwards. The crags at the end of Glen Clova and in Glen Muick below Creag an Dubh-loch also arrested my eye, but my attention always ended up on dark Lochnagar. The Capel Mounth Path undulates across the moorland before slowly descending above Loch Muick to the Spittal of Glenmuick. Glen Doll is a dramatic, steep-sided, craggy valley whereas Glen Muick has gentler sides with a flat bottom. The more serene surroundings befits a valley in the Royal Balmoral Estate.

After looking around the ranger base at the Spittal of Glenmuick I had my lunch and then set off on the Lochnagar Path. The Munro had been filling my thoughts all morning and now I was heading towards this striking mountain on probably the easiest and most popular route to the top. After a cloudy morning the weather had gradually improved so that by the time I reached the start of the climb it was really sunny and warm. My great trail through the Cairngorms bypasses the top of Lochnagar, as it bypasses all the mountain tops, but it comes very close and as I neared the turning off the track I was very tempted to take the path and go up to the top of Lochnagar. The weather was fantastic and I had enough time, so there really was no reason not to pay a visit to dark Lochnagar. Except that I went up Lochnagar four years ago from the other side and I wouldn’t have gained anything from going to the top now; the weather had been just as good four years ago.

Ultimately my heavy, uncomfortable rucksack had the final say and I continued to trudge along the dreadful track that was just a river of stones. It was very awkward and tiring to try and climb the hill over those loose stones and I noticed many people walking alongside rather than on them. The warm sun and tiring path sealed my fate as I spurned Lochnagar’s delights and continued over the top of the pass and across the vast moorland opposite slowly descending into Deeside. After the pass the track was much improved as the river of stones disappeared, but my attention was elsewhere as now the northern corries of Lochnagar slowly came into view with every step. My original plan had been to start the weekend at Balmoral and climb this way, but that would have been excruciating for me who hates long ascents, but this long descent in glorious weather was a delight all the way into the woodland above Balmoral. The heather moor held little interest for me, but the distant views of the snow-clad Cairngorm Mountains and the flatter tops of Beinn a’ Bhuird and Ben Avon drew my eyes upwards.

This descent seemed to take forever, but eventually I entered the wood and at a junction took the left turn as that seemed to be the one going downhill. I had failed to bring a map of the area around Balmoral so I hoped the route down would be straightforward, but it wasn’t. After a long walk beyond the turning I eventually reached the West Lodge of Balmoral and no sign of the main road or the village of Crathie. Eventually I realised that I had gone the wrong way so disconsolately I trudged painfully back up through the wood to the junction where I’d turned left, and took the right turn over a low hill and was soon descending into Easter Balmoral not far from the Royal Lochnagar Distillery. By now it was too late to visit the distillery so I hurried down to the main road in the village of Crathie and waited for a bus back to Braemar. Despite the good weather this was not a great walk. My exertions of the past few days were beginning to take their toll on me. I probably should have taken a rest day, but instead I had spent two days walking through the Mounth and failed to explore Glen Doll, or Lochnagar, or the distillery because I was too tired and didn’t have enough time.

Jock’s Road

Saturday 1st June 2013

Towards the end of the previous day's walk I had been feeling very tired and was considering having a rest day in Braemar, possibly spending the day visiting Balmoral and the Royal Lochnagar distillery. I spent much of the evening before this walk pouring over maps, talking to people in the hostel and trying to decide what to do. But in the end I went back to my original plan with the slight alteration of doing the walk in the opposite direction, starting with a climb along Jock’s Road, which is an ancient route between Glen Callater and Glen Doll that became the first officially recognised right-of-way in Scotland. I had planned a two day walk to Glen Doll with a return to Braemar Sunday evening, so I set off from the peaceful village of Braemar walking up Glen Clunie towards Glen Shee on a quiet road the opposite side of the valley to the main A93 road. After passing Braemar Golf Club, the highest eighteen hole golf course in Scotland at around 1,200 feet above sea level, I crossed the valley and the main road to the foot of Glen Callater. There began a long walk along a wide track through a  picturesque valley all the way to Lochcallater Lodge.

After passing the lodge the path improved tremendously into a meandering ribbon of delight through an unspoilt valley and was beautifully engineered with small stone bridges over the streams. Beyond Loch Callater the ground became slightly boggy, but the path always managed to find the driest route until eventually I reached the rugged, crag-surrounded end of the valley. Unfortunately this was where the excellent path disappeared, so to allow my frustration to subside I stopped and had my lunch, and was astonished at how long it had taken me to get to the end of Glen Callater when I considered that it was already lunchtime, even though I hadn’t left Braemar as early as I could have done. Glen Callater must be a deceptively long valley, and it must have maintained my interest all the way as I hadn’t realised how much time had passed. After lunch I tried to find my own way out of the valley following a faint semblance of a path, whenever I could find one, vaguely following the Allt an Droighnean up to the top of the corrie and around the snow drifts that guard the top.

Eventually I managed to reach the bleak hill-top moor of the Mounth not far from the top of the Munro Tolmount. I could have climbed to the top of this Munro, but this and all the other hills in this area are just grassy mounds with their only redeeming qualities being the crags at the top of the deep valleys that lead up to them, such as at the end of Glen Callater. I had no desire to do the pointless climb as I don’t believe Munro Bagging to be a worthwhile endeavour solely on its own. Assuming that my onward route across the featureless terrain along Jock’s Road would minimise ascent by keeping to the lowest point I headed to the col where a metal pole seemed to mark my route. Continuing in that direction I crossed the side of a hill with a big, empty valley on my left, but this didn’t match my map so I began to doubt that I was going the right way and got my GPS out. When it finally got a lock on enough satellites it told me that I was in completely the wrong location, between the Munros Tolmount and Tom Buidhe at the head of White Water, and heading in the wrong direction. The GPS had taken so long to get a lock I was by now a long way away from the col that I had mistakenly gone through past the pole that probably marked the county border rather than the path.

To add to my torment, the good weather that I had enjoyed all morning had slowly deteriorated and it now looked like it would rain as I turned around and headed back to the top of Glen Callater and onto the surprisingly clear path. Instead of taking the lowest route over the hills, the path climbs to the summit of the Munro Top of Crow Craigies; although maps seem to indicate that Jock’s Road passes to the north of the summit, the clearest route now goes straight up to the fine cairn at the summit. Just as it had looked like the weather was going to turn really bad the sun came out and I had a gloriously enjoyable walk down the long eastern ridge of Crow Craigies slowly veering towards the right into the valley of the White Water, known as Glen Doll. As I gradually descended into the valley the path got better and better with the terrain becoming craggier and craggier. The path narrowed into a deliciously sinuous delight weaving a well-maintained, meticulously designed course through the stunning scenery of Glen Doll.

Just beyond the tiny Lunkard Bothy is the Lunkard, an abrupt rampart of rock with a fantastic easy-to-reach viewpoint at the top that afforded me with an absolutely stunning view of the gorgeous valley with rugged crags and corries lining the southern side above a heavily forested valley. In the sunshine it was a wonderful sight, but dark clouds were already beginning to appear from behind me and the long-promised rain appeared before I returned to the main path and began a long, thrilling descent into Glen Doll. The rain failed to dampen my enthusiasm for this glorious path that was an absolute pleasure to walk along, whatever the weather and eventually I came blissfully into Glen Doll and plunged miserably into a dark, dingy conifer plantation. All my views of the glorious valley were now obscured by the trees and I was unable to see the stunning Corrie Fee or Corrie Sharroch.

Eventually I passed through the wood to the ranger station at the top of the road through Glen Clova. By now it was getting late so, rather than exploring the great little valley of Glen Doll, I found a spot to camp near the ranger station. When planning this walk I hadn’t realised how long it would take me to get to Glen Doll and the tragedy was that I had left myself with no time to explore this fantastic valley. I could have started another walk during the evening, doing the walk that I’d intended up Corrie Fee, but I was already tired and hungry, so I will have to return to Glen Doll another time to get a better appreciation of this truly stunning valley. Jock’s Road is a fabulous route over the hills, starting and ending in two great valleys that have some wonderful paths in them that were a joy to walk along.