Coast to Coast Path: Nine Standards Rigg

Saturday 29th August 2026

My seventh day on the Coast to Coast Path started in the market town of Kirkby Stephen and I was keen to get going as quickly as possible because rain was forecast in the afternoon. This is a significant stage on the Coast to Coast because at the top of Nine Standards Rigg I crossed the national watershed, which means that up to that point the water in the rivers had all flown towards me, finally ending in the Irish Sea, and from that point they all flowed away from me into the North Sea, though the halfway point on the whole trail would not come until the end of this section of the Coast to Coast Path. Before then I needed to climb over Nine Standards Rigg, which I have climbed several times before, first in 2004, and then in 2010, while on the Coast to Coast Walk, though I actually went around it, and finally in 2014 I went in the opposite direction. The second edition of Wainwright’s Coast to Coast Walk introduced an alternative route from Kirkby Stephen towards Nine Standards Rigg via Ladthwaite Beck and I am very keen to take it, but a quiet road has always been the preferred route of the Coast to Coast Walk and in view of the impending rain I reluctantly decided to take that way again this time. The Ladthwaite Beck alternative will just have to wait. Despite the poor weather forecast, the sun was still shining as I left Kirkby Stephen, crossed the River Eden and passed through the quaint village of Hartley before climbing steeply up the road. 

Wainwright’s route of the Coast to Coast Walk continued along the public right-of-way beyond the end of the road up the western slopes of Nine Standards Rigg to old coal pits at Robinson Haggs and then climbed pathless, avoiding peat hags, up to the summit. By the nineties the erosion to the peat was so severe the trail was moved to Faraday Gill and seasonal alternatives were devised with the December to April route bypassing the top, which is the route I took in April 2010. National trail status has finally provided the funding to make that all unnecessary and soon I discovered flagstones lining the path beside Faraday Gill and these led me up to the nine magnificently constructed cairns that are the eponymous standards. I didn’t stay long and soon I made my way along the flagstone path past a viewpoint and up to the trig point that marks the summit of Nine Standards Rigg. The flagstones continued over a dip, at the head of Whitsundale Beck, to the junction where the August to November route previously took unlucky Coast to Coast walkers down into the valley. When I was here in September 2004, those on the Coast to Coast struggled over the muddy peat at this point while I returned to Kirkby Stephen. Now, the flagstones continue along the original route of the Coast to Coast Walk heading south over White Mossy Hill and Lady Dike Head.

The flagstones cover a long distance over the mountain and is an impressive sight marching across the peat. I had an enjoyable walk briskly crossing the top of the mountain, slowly descending until eventually the flagstones led me onto a track where I turned left and followed it to a shooting hut. Beyond, a slender path through the grass made me think I had lost the trail because it was so faint, but it soon became clearer again alongside Ney Gill and led me to the tiny farming hamlet of Ravenseat. After passing the farm I followed the footpath through many grassy fields and past many abandoned buildings slowly making my way down the valley of Whitsun Dale to the infant River Swale. Before reaching a bridge over the river I turned left to follow a narrow path through tall bracken above trees and the crags of Cotterby Scar, and when I reached a road I turned right to cross the river and head into the village of Keld. Despite having been in this area on three previous occasions I had never been to Keld, because I had always kept to the north of the river and avoided the unnecessary climb into the village. Now, I kept strictly to the trail walking along the road that led me into Keld where this stage of the Coast to Coast Path ends. Keld is not only the halfway point for the trail, but nearby is the point where the Coast to Coast crosses another mountain-crossing national trail: the Pennine Way. After walking through the tiny village of Keld I descended to the junction with the Pennine Way and then steeply down to the River Swale. A short climb then led me to another junction where the two great national trails part company with the Pennine Way heading north and the Coast to Coast Path east into Swale Dale.

There is little choice of accommodation in Keld, so in 2010 I did two stages in one day, which was very exhausting, so this time I wanted to split it into two days and my solution was to divert onto the Pennine Way north to Tan Hill Inn. After an initial, exhausting, steep climb, the gradient eased, but was still unrelentingly uphill until eventually I reached the highest inn in Britain, which I had previously stayed at in 2009 while on the Pennine Way. The rain had held off, though I was teased with a few drops while on the approach to Keld, so when I reached the crowded Tan Hill Inn I decided to occupy some time by continuing along the Pennine Way heading onto Sleightholme Moor. However, the landscape soon became very depressing with hardly any change in gradient and heather moorland in all directions. This is typical of the Pennine Way and why Wainwright didn’t like it, which is also why he felt compelled to create a better trail, the Coast to Coast Walk. I kept going along the Pennine Way until, after fifteen minutes, it finally started to rain so I turned around and retraced my steps back to Tan Hill Inn.

Coast to Coast Path: Limestone Country

Friday 28th August 2026

On the day before this walk I had left the Lake District and reached the village of Shap where there are not many affordable places to stay for the solo traveller, so I caught a bus to the town of Penrith and, after spending the night there, I caught a bus back to Shap. This meant I didn’t restart the Coast to Coast Path until mid-morning with almost twenty miles of walking ahead of me. However, unlike while walking across the Lake District, the terrain was now relatively flat over wide, empty lands, so I was confident that I could easily cover the distance. The Coast to Coast Path soon took me out of Shap, across the railway line and up to the M6 motorway, which marks a third of the way across the country. I had left the fells of the Lake District behind me and, as I passed the now disused Shapfell Quarry, ahead of me was a very different landscape with limestone crags soon lining my way. A clear track took me into a vast, open landscape under dark clouds that threatened rain and on reaching the enclosed settlement of Oddendale I entered the Yorkshire Dales and turning right I set off into the open heather moorland. The easy walking soon led me to an area of limestone outcrops that was a fascinating place for me to stand while gazing at the plants growing in the sheltered cracks between the limestone slabs, but soon I lost all sense of direction and it took me awhile to locate the path again.

While light rain briefly fell, the path took me across a very gently undulating terrain around the head of the River Lyvennet before turning south to pass through an area where some young trees have been planted. I previously did most of the Coast to Coast Walk in 2010 and it has been interesting for me to compare and look at the differences that have been made to the trail since then with the biggest being national trail status, but seeing these trees planted on what was previously empty moorland is more subtle. I have also been intrigued by the many changes that have been made to route of the trail since Wainwright first devised the Coast to Coast Walk more than fifty years ago. His stated aim was to stick to right-of-ways, however, it soon became apparent that this was not the case and his biggest problem starts at this point. Wainwright took the trail across Great Asby Scar, a vast limestone plateau with little public access at the time, so eventually the trail had to be diverted around it. Initially this was along roads through the village of Orton, which added two miles to the trail, but the revised edition introduced a new route through the farmland below the escarpment. 

Wainwright’s original route is now technically access land so it could be taken, but the modern route is shorter and easier to follow, so, while it would be interesting to explore the original route across Great Asby Scar, I would need plenty of spare time and not while doing the Coast to Coast Path. The national trail follows the revised route and it is the route I took in 2010 so I did so again, though it is very dull as it crosses many enclosed, grassy fields. There was some compensation with the slopes to my left rising steeply to the tops that the trail original crossed while to my right, across the wide Lune valley I could see the Howgill Fells in the distance, with the weather surprisingly clearing at this point, though rain could still be seen ahead of me. Eventually the agricultural interlude mercifully ended in an area of moorland with the purple flowers of heather shining brightly under the grey, overcast skies. 

At a crossing of paths Wainwright’s original Coast to Coast route comes down from the hills but the modern Coast to Coast Path turns right at this point, so the meeting is brief, as I headed south. Wainwright originally took the trail around the northern banks of Sunbiggin Tarn, but the trail later took a wide diversion to the south along a road and then on what was originally described as difficult to follow and very wet, but is now easy going with wooden causeways crossing the wettest section. I enjoyed the abundance of wild flowers and heather on Tarn Moor, which was a pleasure for me to walk through in weather that was better than feared. Although I missed the Lake District, there was a lot to appeal in walking amongst this rich vegetation in quiet isolation, which you don’t get in the Lakes, and the gentler gradients made it considerably less tiring. Unfortunately, the landscape soon deteriorated to be replaced by a monoculture of grass grazed by the sheep of Ravenstonedale Moor, so I was relieved when a walled enclosure disrupted the monotony. After crossing a road I was finally reunited with Wainwright’s original route, which for seven miles had been going its own way, though there were still more variations ahead. I was now on a clear track running beside a wall, which was eventually crossed, only to continue following the wall. The Coast to Coast Walk originally crossed this field, but now the path goes around so as not to disturb the remains of ancient settlements.

With stunning views ahead of me into Smardale, the steepest gradients on this section of the trail took me down into the valley and after crossing the bridge I climbed back out with fabulous views of Smardalegill Viaduct on the disused Lune valley railway line. As the gradient eased heather appeared again, but soon I left the moor with more tedious walking while ahead of me I could see heavy rain falling on the Pennine range. This prompted me to put my waterproofs on, but the rain never came and I eventually realised that the wind was coming from behind me, so the rain clouds had passed over my head but not dropped their rain until they had reached the Pennine range. The access road for Greenriggs Farm brought me into the town of Kirkby Stephen at the end of one of the longest stages of the Coast to Coast and, surprisingly, I enjoyed it. The weather could have been much worse and while there was none of the dramatic scenery of the Lake District, the gentle gradients had soothed my body, which I appreciated. I may have left the Lake District behind, but the Yorkshire Dales doesn’t disappoint in comparison.

Coast to Coast Path: Haweswater

Thursday 27th August 2026

Although this was the first time I have done the whole of the Coast to Coast, I previously did most of the trail in 2010 when I just covered the parts in National Parks. On that occasion, my course through the Lake District was not too dissimilar to the route I had now taken, and my decision to stop at the Windermere Youth Hostel, in the Trout Beck valley, was repeated from 2010. So, my route now was following in my steps of then, through the village of Troutbeck and up the valley with the Troutbeck Tongue dominating the view ahead of me. I hadn’t planned on climbing the Tongue, but I since climbed it in 2010 I couldn’t resist the temptation now. A steep climb led me through the bracken with misty views down the valley until I reached the outcrops that adorn the summit. I had enjoyed a bit of sunshine at the start of this walk, though thin, hazy cloud soon began to thicken and the weather slowly deteriorated throughout the course of a day that would finally, tragically, take me out of the Lake District on the Coast to Coast Path. I had a lot of regret about this, but the worsening of the weather somehow made the necessity of leaving the Lake District easier for me to accept. After reaching the summit of Troutbeck Tongue I made my way along the extended ridge that took me past several rocky outcrops slowly descending to reach Hagg Gill and the start of Scot Rake. 

A clear path led me steeply up the western slopes of Froswick into an increasingly strong, cold wind while the clouds descended onto the tops of the fells, so when I reached the top of the ridge I decided I would not be following my 2010 route over the top of High Street. It felt too windy for that so I turned right onto a thin path that clings to the mountain edge above Gavel Crag and Bleathwaite Crag with occasional breaks in the clouds affording me with tantalising views down the valley to Kentmere Reservoir. This may not have been the quickest route, but it was an exciting path, and eventually I reached the clear, rocky descent that led me to Nan Bield Pass, which must be one of the greatest mountain passes in the Lake District. There, I turned left to descend a very rocky path, eroded in places, that slowed my pace considerably so that I became concerned, which prompted me to hurry once the terrain had eased and eventually I reached Mardale Head. Turning left, I followed the path that crosses the ridge that comes down from High Street while Haweswater Reservoir was looking rather depleted following the hot, dry weather this summer. The arm of the reservoir that extends to Mardale Head had no water in it and, after crossing the ridge, the remains of Riggindale Farm could clearly be seen, revealed where originally it had been covered by the waters. After crossing Riggindale Beck I finally rejoined the Coast to Coast Path, but with time on my mind I kept up my pace along the narrow path through tall bracken while many insects flew around me.

A steep climb took me across the slopes below Castle Crag while affording me with views, through the haze, back across the reservoir, towards the Rigg, with Branstree behind. The distant views were very poor so I turned my attention to the path and didn’t take another picture until I reached Shap Abbey. After a brief respite while crossing Whelter Beck, I crossed steep ground again, below Whelter Knotts, and eventually reached the Forces on Measand Beck, but this was too heavily wooded for me to see the waterfalls, so I didn’t stop. However, my rapid pace thus far beside the reservoir meant I could now slow down and take my time along a wider path to the end of Haweswater Reservoir where I turned into the small community of Burnbacks and onto a delightful path through woodland that led me to a road. There was a complicated arrangement here, crossing the road, over an ancient packhorse bridge and then over a footbridge, but I believe there are plans to build a new bridge to avoid the difficulties. Wainwright, in fact, never came this way. His original route went via Naddle Gate via a pre-existing right-of-way, but the Coast to Coast Walk was diverted in 1994 to Naddle Bridge and from there along permissive paths alongside Haweswater Beck. Where the trail leaves the river the route has been changed, thanks to national trail status, conforming to the right-of-way that previously led to an impassable fence, which now has a stile to enable onward progress past Highpark buildings and Rawhead. 

Behind me, in the distance I could see the mountains that surround Haweswater while around me the scenery was agricultural with rolling hills, which made it clear to me that I had now left the Lake District behind. At the end of all my holidays in the Lake District I have to say goodbye, to tear myself away, leaving a part of my heart behind, and this holiday is no different. But the difference is that my holiday is not over and, in a way, I now had a completely different holiday ahead of me, a second phase. There was a lot more of this trail to come. The rest of the walking was tedious with one point where the path was not clear, so I had to check my navigation, which brought me to the River Lowther, beside the ruins of Shap Abbey. As the long promised rain finally began to appear I followed the footpath that keeps off the road and led me into the village of Shap where this stage of the Coast to Coast Path ends. This is a heartbreaking stage of the trail because it had brought me out of the much-loved Lake District, but it also brought me to other places that have their own appeal. The rock scenery around Nan Bield Pass was stunning, one of the best places in the Lake District and now I had left the national park, to pass into more subdued, more agricultural surroundings. The rest of the Coast to Coast Path would not be able to match what I had just walked through.

Coast to Coast Path: Greenup Edge

Wednesday 26th August 2026

After spending a couple of days enjoying myself in the Lake District, taking advantage of the good weather, I now turned my attention back to the Coast to Coast Path, which also coincided with a worsening in the weather. Soon after rejoining the trail at the end of the previous day I had reached the Borrowdale Youth Hostel where I spent the night so the following morning I set off along the Coast to Coast Path into the village of Rosthwaite to complete the second stage of the trail. A more direct route from the youth hostel towards Greenup Edge would take you through the small village of Stonethwaite, which is often the route I take, most recently at the beginning of 2025. I had plenty of time for this walk so I decided to stick rigidly to the trail and make up for going my own way between Ennerdale and Borrowdale. From Rosthwaite I crossed the river and onto the path that heads up the valley past Stonethwaite towards Greenup Edge, however, I am not particularly keen on it, partly due to overfamiliarity having taken it many times in the last ten years and it seems to have few redeeming qualities, besides the imposing Eagle Crag that dominates the view. I was feeling very tired on this walk, not helped by high humidity while sheltered from the wind which meant I was sweating and cursing freely as I toiled up the valley. Eventually I reached the steep ascent beside Lining Crag where I caught up with the many other Coast to Coast walkers who had earlier overtaken me, but were now having difficulty on the steep, rocky terrain. I didn’t find it too difficult and all too soon I found myself at the top of Lining Crag where there are usually good views, but the grey overcast skies meant that it wasn’t worth stopping so I turned back onto the trail and headed across the broad saddle known as Greenup Edge.

Previously the path has been indistinct with cairns marking the route, but this has now been paved, which has made the crossing significantly easier, and soon I reached the edge with views into the bowl at the head of the Wythburn valley. The path is now very clear down the side of the basin so the infamous Wythburn trap, which lures the unsuspecting into the Wythburn valley, is no longer a problem with the flagstones leading the Coast to Coast walker unerringly to the head of Far Easedale. Wainwright took the Coast to Coast Walk from this point along the ridge to the left of the valley, saying: “Let’s do a ridge walk.” The national trail instead uses Wainwright’s direct alternative route, reserved for poor weather, along the bottom of the Far Easedale valley, perhaps to make the trail as easy of possible, but I still think the ridge passing Calf Crag and heading east to Gibson Knott must remain a target if the Coast to Coast walker has the energy and the weather is good. I was feeling tired and the weather was poor, and also the ridge felt very familiar to me having previously traversed it in 2021 while the valley felt less familiar, probably last done at the end of 2017, so I kept to the national trail and was able to see the work that has been done to improve the path including a wide bridge where it crosses Far Easedale Gill. 

This was a quiet walk, sheltered from the wind, with other Coast to Coast walkers ahead of me and behind me, slowly descending through the valley until, after passing the bridge at Stythwaite Steps, a wide track appeared, which brought me into agricultural Easedale, with a bit of rain at this point. After passing the point where the ridge route comes down from Helm Crag I joined a road and followed that through the middle of a field where the national trail turns left at a signpost to head towards Patterdale while Wainwright’s Coast to Coast Walk continues along the road all the way into Grasmere. There it turns around and heads back up the road turning right just after Goody Bridge soon rejoining the national trail.  After having my lunch in Grasmere I walked out of the crowded village onto the Coffin Route that goes to Ambleside because I had decided that I would not be staying in Patterdale, because the YHA have closed the hostel there. It was now getting quite warm, even with a bit of sunshine while I was in Grasmere, which meant I had a wonderfully relaxing walk along an excellent footpath that eventually brought me to Rydal Hall. This continued through Rydal Park, until I branched off the main track before reaching the road onto a path I’d never taken before which ascends beside Scandale Beck to Low Sweden Bridge and provided me with an offbeat entry into the noisy town of Ambleside. Soon I escaped the crowds again and took to the streets off the main road that led me into Skelghyll Wood.

This has become a familiar route for me to and from the Ambleside Youth Hostel, having last taken it at the beginning of this year, but it is still a good path with a steep rocky section to enjoy until the gradient finally eased and I came out of the wood, walking along Skelghyll Lane all the way into the Trout Beck valley and the Windermere Youth Hostel. My lingering memory of this walk was how warm and humid it was, which does not make for comfortable walking. Although there was occasional rain, no one seemed to notice it or put on waterproofs. After my exertion the day before, passing over Sca Fell and Scafell Pike, I appreciated the chance of gentler walking to let me recover.

Sca Fell and Scafell Pike

Tuesday 25th August 2026

I was supposed to be walking along the Coast to Coast Path on this holiday, however, on entering the Lake District I couldn’t resist diverting off the trail to have a bit of fun in that wonderful playground for hillwalkers. So, at the beginning of this day I was in Eskdale, nowhere near the Coast to Coast Path, and the weather was good, though maybe not as warm as the day before, but still sunny and I wanted to repeat a walk that I made on my first ever visit to the Lake District, back in 2002, which involves crossing the two highest mountains in England, Sca Fell and Scafell Pike. I set off from the youth hostel and, after a short walk along the road through Eskdale, at a car park I turned off onto a footpath that took me past bracken and granite outcrops slowly climbing along what is known as the Terrace Route up Scafell. I know from experience that this is a long ascent, better suited for descent, especially in good weather, so this is actually the first time I have made the ascent since 2002, and the last time I did the Terrace Route in descent was back in 2011. I was quite prepared for a long ascent and savoured the early stages of the path as it weaved through the complex, boggy terrain until eventually, after crossing Catcove Beck, the ascent eased. The walking was now more tedious, but the craggy hill of Slight Side ahead of me with the bulk of Scafell lurking behind was enough to motivate my onward progress and soon I was ascending again while a cold wind began to make itself felt.

As the terrain steepened the rather sketchy path took me into an increasingly stony landscape dominated by the outcrops at the top of Slight Side, which provided me with a short, satisfying scramble to the summit of the fell. The sunshine that had started the day was now smothered by cloud leaving me feeling cold as I made my way across the broad, stony ridge that separates Slight Side from Scafell with a steep, mountainous climb to follow, which just brought me to the ridge of Long Green. The mountain was teasing me, forcing me to work hard for the achievement of reaching the summit of this awesome mountain and it was only after another steep climb that I reached the summit of Scafell. After lunch I made my way across the top towards Scafell Pike, which can easily be seen but the cliff face of Broad Stand is an unseen barrier to the walker in that direction, so the public footpath turns right at a col to head down a treacherously slippery scree slope. This was a very difficult descent and when I finally reached the vanishingly small Foxes Tarn my troubles were not over because now I had to scramble down a stony gully that was made even more interesting by having water in it and an abundance of slippery moss lower down. When I finally reached the bottom I was faced with a steep climb back up a scree slope, though it is easier ascending scree because it is not so slippery, and this brought me to the dramatic, narrow ridge of Mickledore with the impressive rock face of Broad Stand on one side and the long, rock-covered slopes on the other that would eventually lead me to Scafell Pike.

It is a long time since I have made the traverse between these two mountains, not since 2011, and on that occasion I took the only other possible route, Lord’s Rake, which is even more treacherous and difficult. The last time I did the Foxes Tarn route was in 2005 so I was keen to do so again, but I am not now so eager to do it again. It must be one of the toughest rights-of-way in the Lake District, if not in the whole country. As I made my way across the loose boulders that litter the mountain, heading towards the summit of Scafell Pike, I was astonished by the huge numbers of people coming up the path from Lingmell Col. I had hardly seen anyone all day, including at the top of Scafell, but, reluctantly, I joined them to reach the crowded summit of Scafell Pike, where I didn’t stay long and immediately headed down to Broadcrag Col. It had been intention to keep following my 2002 route past Broad Crag and Ill Crag to Esk Hause, but when I thought about it I decided it wasn’t worth it, so when I reached the col I turned left to descend the scree with a lot of people ahead of me who slowed my descent. When I finally got past them I skipped onto the Corridor Route, which was also very busy, but still a fabulous path and eventually I reached Sty Head where I considered diverting to bag Seathwaite Fell, until I came to my senses. The clear path north from Sty Head Tarn keeps to the left bank of Styhead Gill and then crosses the stream on a bridge, however, the map indicates that there is a path staying on the left bank, but when I tried to follow it there was no sign of it, just marshy ground.

After getting my feet wet the faint path eventually appeared, which led me to the stunning surroundings beside Taylorgill Force. Amongst spectacular views of the waterfall there is an exciting scramble across the rocks, which, for someone like me who had just experienced the scrambling down from Foxes Tarn, was easy. This tricky descent continued as I turned into the main valley with bogs now becoming more of a problem until I finally reached Seathwaite Farm. A route from Seathwaite to Borrowdale, which I have taken many times before and first in 2002, led me across fields to the road in Borrowdale, over the river and astonishingly back onto the Coast to Coast Path. This was an epic, challenging walk that was very difficult in places, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. This is not the sort of walking that you find on the Coast to Coast Path and was all the better for it. These are great mountains, but the best of the best has to be Sca Fell, which is all the better for being neglected by all the ignorant tourists climbing the other mountain, simply because it is slightly higher!

The High Level Traverse and Illgill Head

Monday 24th August 2026

This was my second day on the Coast to Coast Path during which I should have walked along Ennerdale, up Sail Beck to Honister Hause and then down into Borrowdale, however, I was in the Lake District and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to deviate from the prescribed route and enjoy myself for a while since I don’t come to the Lake District as much as I would like. Rather than heading east I headed south to Eskdale and then the following day north to reach Borrowdale in two days rather than what would have taken me only half a day on the Coast to Coast. Initially I did keep to the trail along the track that runs through the spectacular valley of Ennerdale until I reached a junction where a turning to the right took me across the river. Maps indicate a path climbing the southern bank through the trees starting near the bridge, but there was hardly any sign on the ground and when I did find a path it was waterlogged and very difficult to follow. It may have been easier to follow twenty years ago when I ascended this way, but now the trees have closed in on the path. Wainwright and his subsequent editors have never recommended this path, but instead one that starts from the Memorial Bridge or beside Pillarcove Beck. Perhaps they would have been easier. Eventually the path became drier underfoot and I reached the fence that led me out of the plantation and onto the steep hillside with the iconic pillar rock towering above me and a clear path climbing beside the stream.

As I slowly climbed the steep side of Pillar below awesome rocks the path faded away and I wandered away from the stream, so I had to correct my ascent, back to the side of the stream and eventually I reached an outcrop where I found the clear path that comes down the top of Pillar via the Shamrock Traverse. I had planned to cross the traverse and reach Pillar, but in the end I decided it wasn’t worth it and I would much rather turn left towards Robinson’s Cairn and the High Level Traverse, and soon I reached the prominent column of stones. There is a dedication plaque beside the cairn to John Wilson Robinson, a pioneer fellwalker and rock climber, though I couldn’t remember seeing it before so this time I had a good look around and eventually I found it affixed to an outcrop facing the pillar rock. After taking loads of pictures I set off along the high level route that traverses the side of Pillar, which had frustrated me for many years until I finally completed it in good weather in 2023 and now I was going in the opposite direction. The path began well, running across the foot of the crags below the eastern ridge of Pillar, but it later became very sketchy with some scrambling required that makes it quite a tricky path, so good weather is a must for it. It was very satisfying for me to do the High Level Traverse again, because it is clearly not overly subscribed, so I tried to linger and remind myself that I was amongst the awesome surroundings of one of the great paths of the Lake District, though the views up and down Ennerdale were rather murky. 

All too soon I reached the tricky exit that brought me onto the main path coming down from Pillar. After taking in the viewpoint at the top of Looking Stead I tried to find a path that is not marked on Ordnance Survey maps and descends steeply from Looking Stead to the Black Sail Pass path without having to go through the pass itself. There are many paths in the Lake District that have been created in recent decades by fellrunners cutting corners and most are of poor quality, so I was wary of this new path for me, but after an initial steepness it was good, and in fact it was marked on the earliest editions of Wainwright’s guidebooks. Eventually it brought me onto the clear path from Black Sail Pass, which led me into Mosedale and ultimately to Wasdale Head. It was very relaxing for me to disengage my brain and allow my footsteps to take me across the valley, while ignoring all the distracting human activity around me with only the bright red berries of rowan attracting my notice. Eventually I started to climb towards Burnmoor Tarn, but with still most of the afternoon free I was reminded of a walk I did in 2016, also from Ennerdale to Eskdale, when faced with this situation I had ignored, or not noticed, the turning to the left, which leads to the lake, and instead climbed towards the grassy hill rising ahead of me. Since it was ten years since I was last on Illgill Head I thought I would do so again, though I soon began to tire as I climbed with the views back into Wasdale Head failing to revive me. 

After the gradient eased on reaching the 590 metre top I found the walking beyond much easier and took me to the central, highest top, but the spot height marked on Ordnance Survey maps was not at the stone shelter by the path or even at the small cairn some distance away, though the O.S.’s spot height is close by unmarked. The “true summit” as regarded by Wainwright is further away across a shallow dip and has a splendid cairn sitting above the dramatic slopes that plunge all the way down to Wast Water. Ten years ago I had made my way down to Burnmoor Tarn from this point, but Illgill Head’s neighbouring fell had not been climbed since 2013, so I decided to bag Whin Rigg this time, though I had to reverse my steps afterwards back to the southern slopes of Illgill Head and then try to find a route down the steep slopes. With hindsight, bagging Whin Rigg was a waste of effort. It is best descended or ascended from the southern foot of Wast Water, as I did in 2013. After much effort I eventually reached Burnmoor Tarn where I crossed several paths to reach the boggy ground that defends Lambford Bridge. This was the way I had come in 2016 and I was keen to do it again, though it was not easy to follow with many bogs to traverse on a sketchy path that I lost on several occasions, so I was relieved when I finally descended into Eskdale at the Woolpack Inn, not far from the youth hostel. It was fantastic to be in the Lake District with fabulous weather and stunning scenery, though the views were hazy and it was very tiring. Diverting to Illgill Head and Whin Rigg was possibly a waste of effort, which just shows you that bagging summits is a mug’s game.

Coast to Coast Path: West Cumbria

Sunday 23rd August 2026

In May this year I did a walk across the West Highlands of Scotland on a trail that I had devised myself in an attempt to do something that evoked the same feelings I had after doing the Cambrian Way across Wales last year. I failed. If I had been looking in England for a trail that has similarities to the Cambrian Way then I would have quickly thought of the Pennine Way and the Coast to Coast Walk, which both also take a predominantly higher level route across the country. I have done both before, in stages, but the Coast to Coast was made an official national trail this year, so it seemed like a perfect opportunity for me to do the whole trail, if only to see what changes have been made to bring the path up to national trail status. So, I set off for the Cumbrian coast and the village of St Bees and, after spending the night there, I made my way to the start of what is now officially named the Coast to Coast Path, however, when it was originally devised in 1973 by Alfred Wainwright it was called “A Coast to Coast Walk”. He started the trail from the sea wall at St Bees and forty years later a large marker wall was built near the sea wall to clearly show the starting point of the trail, however, the national trail technically starts further inland at the entrance to the car park, near a bus stop. The trail initially follows the coast around St Bees Head, but last winter part of the coastal path was washed away and so now, at the starter wall, a sign points you in the opposite direction to Wainwright’s route and back towards St Bees.

Before starting the trail I headed onto the beach to allow my boots to be ceremonially washed by seawater, while taking in the view on this sunny morning until finally I set off along the national trail. It is frustrating that I wasn’t able to follow the proper route for the first few miles, so I actually considered headed off along roads to the coast north of the closed path so I could do as much of the trail as possible, but eventually I came to my senses and followed the diversion past St Bees School and through the valley of Pow Beck until I reached the Coast to Coast Path near Stanley, which is already six miles into the trail, so this diversion is actually a great time saver! I am often guilty of pushing myself too far, when the most important thing for me to do is to simply enjoy myself, being outdoors and not rushing. The path descended to cross the railway line, under a bridge, which was not how Wainwright originally devised the Coast to Coast Walk. I am fascinated by all the changes that have been made to the trail over the years and originally it crossed the line by a level crossing until Wainwright received an angry letter from British Rail in 1990 demanding that this was not a right-of-way. Beyond there, after crossing several fields of rough pasture I reached a disused railway line where the national trail turns onto what is now a cyclepath. When Wainwright devised the Coast to Coast Walk the railway was still active, so he took the trail through the village of Moor Row, but this is now bypassed.

The cyclepath was lovely to walk upon being lined with tall trees and avoids the roads until eventually I came off, which was well signposted by the national trail, back onto the original route, following Wainwright’s footsteps past a cricket ground and into Cleator. After crossing the River Ehen an enclosed path brought me to Black How Farm and, after crossing a road, onto a forestry track up the only hill on this stage of the trail: Dent. I had been enjoying the effortless walking on the flat, but soon the benefit of ascending revealed itself in the views back across West Cumbria to the coast while I slowly toiled up the track. The national trail has moved the Coast to Coast Path back onto Wainwright’s original route, sticking to the track, before crossing a fence, to move away from the trees, slowly climbing all the way up to the cairn that is usually considered as the summit of Dent. There, with others also resting at the top, I had my lunch while looking at the view ahead of me towards the Lake District, even though it was spoilt by clouds. The descent was moved in the revised edition to Wainwright’s guidebook onto the southern slopes of Dent before the later, second edition moved it back to Wainwright’s route down the eastern ridge, but now the national trail has adopted the revised edition route so that is how I descended, down steep forestry paths until I reached a quiet valley with a pretty, little stream running through it: the Nannycatch Beck. After the effort of climbing Dent this was a welcome respite for me and a lovely walk followed, crossing many well-built bridges, probably thanks to the national trail.

Eventually I reached a road where a path beside led me safely into the village of Ennerdale Bridge where Wainwright ended the first stage of his Coast to Coast Walk, however, I was not done and on the other side I encountered a new path, built thanks to national trail status that led me to the shore of Ennerdale Water. There the national trail offered me a choice of going around the northern shore of the lake, or to take the much rougher, southern shore, which was Wainwright’s route so that was where I went. I was now in the familiar territory of the Lake District with the awesome high fells that line the valley further ahead, so, despite being very tired, I eagerly set off along the path. I had not done much walking over the summer due to the hot weather, which is not the best preparation for a long distance trail, but I was enthralled with this great, little path that runs beside the lake, which even includes a shot of scrambling over Robin Hood’s Chair. It took me a long time to walk the whole length of Ennerdale Water and then I had just a short distance left to finally take me to the Ennerdale Youth Hostel. I was surprised by how tough I found this first day on the Coast to Coast Path, possibly because of my lack of lengthy walking over the summer, but I was glad to have now done this first stage of the trail as I had not previously been through West Cumbria, though it is frustrating to have not been able to walk around St Bees Head.

Glen Roy and the Corrieyairaik Pass

Thursday 28th and Friday 29th May 2026

On the day before this walk my self-made trail across the West Highlands of Scotland had taken me to Roy Bridge where I now headed into a valley that I had heard a lot about but never walked through myself. Glen Roy has a fascinating natural phenomenon in it known as parallel roads where terraces on the side of the valley have been caused by a succession of lakes after the last ice age. It is a national nature reserve so I was hopeful for an impressive sight and therefore I decided I would take my trail through the valley. On the previous two days I had taken advantage of good weather to climb over two mountain ranges, over the Mamores and the twin mountains of Aonach Beag and Aonach Mòr, but, compared with those days this was going to be a much easier day with less climbing as I kept to the bottom of the valley, which I appreciated as those days had been very tiring. Although there was still not a cloud in the sky, the winds had picked up, which indicated that the weather was about to change, and rain was forecast for the next day, so I was keen to walk as far as possible on this day to take advantage of the lingering sunshine and leave as little of the trail as possible in the rain on the last day of my trail. Initially I was just walking along a quiet road with the views blocked by trees and even when I had a view all I could see was more trees covering the valley. 

When I eventually emerged from the trees my view down the valley was initially dominated by the eastern crags of Aonach Mòr, with Aonach Beag behind, but later it was their neighbours, the Grey Corries that dominated the views behind me. Later, the parallel roads of Glen Roy began to appear, like green lines through the heather around the side of the valley, but they were so faint from where I was standing it was difficult for me to see anything interesting, though it is still amazing that something like that could be a natural phenomenon. Slowly, I made my way along the single track, unenclosed road through the valley gradually getting fed up with walking along a road, and although the scenery was fantastic I felt disconnected from it at the bottom of the valley. There is something very monotonous about walking along a road, every step the same, whereas on a trail there is constant variety, moving up and down, left and right, but on a road it is extremely tedious. I took loads of pictures of the valley but none of the pictures look particularly special. They seem to be just of a valley. Eventually the landscape at the bottom of Glen Roy became wilder, with less farmland and therefore more appealing, distracting me from the tedious road walking. 

Finally, I passed the end of the road, slowly leaving civilisation behind, although the track I was still walking on was a clear indication of its lingering remains. It was now getting rather hot, which on my previous couple of days I had countered by being at the top of a mountain where it is a lot cooler, but by staying at the bottom of a valley, sheltered from the wind, the heat was immense. Even though I appreciate the views, part of me preferred the cooler temperatures I had in the first week of my holiday. As I approached the top of the pass, I came near a bothy while my track left me by fording the river, so I had to find my way pathless until I reached a faint path that starts from the bothy, and took me over the pass to the source of the River Spey in Loch Spey. Although this is a very bleak, isolated area, there are mountains to the south that are well known, rising to Creag Meagaidh, which I climbed in 2008. I would have loved to have climbed it again as the weather had been poor on that occasion and I had considered including it on this trail, but it is not easy to get to from Glen Roy. The path widened after passing Loch Spey and became easier to walk upon, but then after crossing Shesgnan Burn I lost all trace of the path with a faint etching in the grass being all I could find, so I turned north and made my own way to a building marked on maps as Shesgnan over tussocky grass and across narrow water channels until I reached a clear track which led me between a conifer plantation and the River Spey to Melgarve.

After passing these buildings I turned left along a track that led me towards the infamous Corrieyairack Pass, which ranks alongside other legendary passes in Scotland such as the Lairig Ghru and the Devil’s Staircase. It has its origins in the military roads constructed in the eighteenth century to keep the lawless Highlanders under control and I had never walked across it before so I was keen to include it in my trail across the West Highlands and to finish in Fort Augustus on the other side. When I reached Corrie Yairack itself I put up my tent beside the stream in a delightful spot and enjoyed a lovely, sunny evening there, but the following morning the promised bad weather brought low clouds and drizzly rain. I hastily set off along the track that soon zigzags up the steep side of the corrie and over the pass alongside electricity pylons that also make use of this pass while I fought against the wind and rain. Occasional gaps in the rain were brief and welcome, especially when accompanied by the marvellous appearance of a rainbow, but eventually the weather did begin to improve. The descent took several hours and then just when the gradient steepened I realised that I had missed a turning so I had to climb back up to find the faint, missing path. With hindsight, I could have stayed on the track I was on because that was formally the military road from the Corrieyairack Pass. However, I was following a route determined for me by the O.S. Maps app, which had dictated that the military road doesn’t take the most direct route so I had to branch off towards Glen Tarff on a rough path that brought me to banks of bluebells that were poignant for me to see, because I knew I would not see any more this year.

Soon after passing the bluebells I was confronted by a locked gate and a private property notice, so I had to take a narrow path beside the fence that led me around Culachy House, and eventually brought me to a road not far from Fort Augustus. When I started planning this holiday I had tried to devise a walk across the West Highlands that compares with the Cambrian Way, which crosses Wales. It was an impossible task, if only because the Highlands of Scotland is completely different to Wales, with fewer settlements, less footpaths and more mountains. I came up with a trail that starts on Loch Fyne and ends at the southern tip of Loch Ness incorporating the Loch Lomond and Cowal Way and parts of the West Highland Way before crossing some of the mountains around Glen Nevis, and then along Glen Roy and over the Corrieyairack Pass. Despite the poor weather in the first week, it was quite successful, but does it compare with the Cambrian Way? No, partly because it is shorter, but ultimately I think it had failed before I even started because there was no anticipation. Unlike on the Cambrian Way, I wasn’t excited about the challenge ahead of me or the prospect of spending two weeks walking in the Highlands of Scotland, and that is a shame.

Aonach Beag and Mòr

Wednesday 27th May 2026

For this holiday I had devised a trail across the West Highlands of Scotland, which in the second week I had started from Glen Coe and I could have followed the valleys all the way, but after suffering with low cloud and rain in the first week of my holiday I was fortunate to now have good weather so I wanted to take advantage of it. Therefore, after camping beside the ruins of Steall in Glen Nevis, I looked up at the mountain that towered over me to the north and declared that I was going to climb it. I had previously headed up these slopes in 2016, but since I had not started until the afternoon, once the weather had cleared, I had only got as far as the Munro Top, Sgùrr a’ Bhuic, so now I wanted to go all the way. I followed the narrow path heading upstream beside the Allt Coire nan Laogh intending on following the burn all the way up, however, I veered off at a junction and ended up crossing the southern slopes on a sheep trod without making any progress uphill. Eventually I turned up the mountain and toiled up the steep slopes that were covered in heather and bilberry, sprinkled with pale violet flowers. This was very tiring, though a cold wind prevented me from getting too hot and eventually, after a lot of effort, I reached the top of the ridge that stretches west from the top of Sgùrr a’ Bhuic. Rather than turning right onto the ridge, I crossed over and followed the contour around to pick up the young burn that heads into the corrie. I had decided that some of my problems the day before had been because I was dehydrated, so at this point I made a point of replenishing my water bottles to ensure I didn’t run out of water and that my rucksack was particularly heavy.

When I reached the top of the corrie the view east across the awesome ridge of the Grey Corries was revealed to me, which repeatedly drew my eye as I slowly headed north up the ridge, following the edge of a precipitous cliff that had me feeling a little nervous as I continued to climb. When I reached the top of Stob Coire Bhealaich the steep, eastern crags of Aonach Beag and Aonach Mòr, still decorated with snow, could now be seen as I made my way along the narrow summit ridge. After chatting with a guy at the top for a while, I continued along the ridge and then turned up the slopes to reach the top of Aonach Beag, which was covered with snow and with no obvious summit marked with a cairn I was wary about getting too close to the cornices on the sheer cliff face. I could see some partially melted footsteps in the snow so I followed these to somewhere near where the summit might be and then hastily retreated towards safety, following the indentations out again. I had previously visited the top of Aonach Beag twenty years ago, out and back from Aonach Mòr, so I had been keen to climb it this time from the valley so I could more properly say I have climbed the mountain. Once off the snow I followed the clear path that zigzags down the steep, rock-filled slope to the col with Aonach Mòr, relishing every step that reminded of many mountain walks from my past and sadly not recently. These days I am reluctant to go up a mountain unless the weather is perfect, like on this day, because I know how much better it is when the weather is good. The comparison is enormous. Why would you want to go to the top of a mountain when you can’t get views like this?

After pausing for my lunch I headed up the broad slopes that led me all the way up to the summit of Aonach Mòr where I had stunning views all around, including west towards Càrn Mòr Dearg and Ben Nevis. Continuing along the broad ridge I veered towards the eastern edge following the route determined for me by the O.S. Maps app, but in 2006 I had kept to the western edge overlooking the deep valley of Allt Daim, which avoided the detritus of the ski slopes, but, of course, since there was no snow, no skiers. A very steep and long descent eventually brought me to the station at the top of the ski centre’s gondola ride, which I could have taken down, but instead I walked on a mountain bike track. When I realised this was a cycle track I came off it, until I realised that the track was in a poor state and no one was cycling down it, so I resumed my descent on the badly eroded track which eventually brought me into a wood where the hazards were even more evident. When I reached a forestry track I turned north east to get away from the ski centre and the mountain biking, and after that long, steep descent it was a relief to finally have easier walking. As I had descended I was struck by how hot it was becoming, since it is always much cooler at the top of a mountain, but it was also now much hotter than I had experienced at any point in my holiday as the heatwave that had afflicted England over the Bank Holiday weekend eventually reached the Highlands of Scotland. 

The forestry tracks took me past a quarry, whose access roads were tricky to cross, and still I kept heading north until finally my path veered right and I came alongside a railway. I had now joined the route of the East Highland Way, a little known trail that goes from Fort William to Speyside, largely following forestry tracks, such as this, but eventually the track veered south and a path continued my eastward progress until I reached a road where I turned left onto the busy A82. With no pavements I walked along the grass verge for a mile into Spean Bridge where I hoped to find something for dinner, but everywhere was closed, so I set off again along the main road taking the A86 which heads towards the Cairngorms. I didn’t go quite that far, and after at least an hour’s walking beside the road I reached Roy Bridge where I found something to eat and the campsite where I spent the night. This was a tiring day with sweltering heat once I came off the mountains, so despite trying to drink as much as possible I still felt dehydrated at the end of it. It was great to be walking at the top of mountains, especially as I don’t get to do that very often these days, and to be on mountains that I had previously visited twenty years ago, but the long walk out didn’t help.

The Mamores

Tuesday 26th May 2026

At the end of the previous day, before this walk, I had climbed up from Kinlochleven along a great path that passes through stunning wooded scenery to reach the Blackwater Reservoir where I put up my tent, even though I had actually intended on staying at the Loch Chiarain bothy, but I was too tired to keep going that far. It was still an enchanting spot with views across the reservoir, over the pass of the Devil’s Staircase and towards the mountain of Buachaille Etive Mòr. The following morning the views were even better because now there wasn’t a cloud in the sky for the first time on my holiday. When I set off I continued to head towards the bothy, before turning left at the burn, Allt Coire na Cruaidhe to follow a slender path that climbs beside the stream. This was very tiring on a path that, shall we say, was in its natural state, that is, rough and boggy. Eventually I came to a junction with the path that comes up from Loch Chiarain where I turned left to continue climbing over Meall na Cruaidhe to views over the epic range of mountains known as the Mamores while the mountains of Glen Coe continued to dominate the view whenever I looked back. My patience on this holiday after a week and a half of poor weather was finally being repaid and now I had excellent weather while heading towards one of the best mountain ranges in Scotland. The tiring path eventually led me to the mouth of Loch Eilde Mòr where a gravel track provided me much easier walking while heading back towards Kinlochleven.

Once over the pass I had mesmerising views along the length of Loch Leven and if I stayed on this track it would have taken me into Lairig Mòr to join the West Highland Way, or alternatively, I could have gone past Loch Chiarain to head into Lairig Leacach to continue north, and these were my foul weather alternatives. However, I wanted to take full advantage of this good weather and I had left myself plenty of time to do so. Even though it would take a lot of effort, I wanted to climb onto the glorious Mamores ridge, and the sight of these high mountains towering over me made me question my intentions. When I turned into Coire na Bà I quaked at the enormity of the mountain Am Bodach and the scale of the effort before me as I slowly made my way up the path, eventually turning east to head across the long slopes of Na Gruagaichean before turning north again to pass below the crags of the north western top and eventually reach a broad, grassy saddle. I have descended by this path through Coire na Bà twice before, most recently in 2017, and I think I appreciated it better on those occasions because it is just too long and tiring for an ascent, so I was relieved when I finally reached the great Mamores ridge. Now, I slowly climbed the ridge towards Stob Coire a’ Chàirn with stunning views all around me, including north towards Glen Nevis and the fabulous mountains beyond, while Am Bodach continued to dominate the view. I fell in love with the Mamores range on my first visit in 2005, so I was overjoyed to be back and to be enjoying fabulous weather amongst the amazing scenery.

The broad ridge eventually led me up to the small, airy summit of Stob Coire a’ Chàirn, which lies on the route of the classic Ring of Steall mountain walk and in 2005 I did part of that walk, coming up over An Gearanach to reach this Munro. But now I turned my back on the view north to look upon Am Bodach, which I decided I didn’t fancy attempting to climb, especially with a heavy rucksack on my back. After making my way along the ridge to the col I then started to head across the screes bypassing the summit. The Ordnance Survey shows two paths crossing the slopes below the steep crags of Am Bodach, which I intended on taking, but I couldn’t find any trace and eventually I turned uphill, climbing a sheer grass rake that led me back onto the clear path which weaved around the crags leading me very steeply up the mountain. With my head down, taking one step at a time, repeatedly crossing the rocks, back and forth, eventually I reached the popular summit of Am Bodach where the views were sensational and worth the exceptional effort required to get there. I could see Loch Leven and the Blackwater Reservoir to the south, but I was more interested in the views across the Mamores from this central location. From the westernmost Munro of the range, Mullach nan Coirean, all the way to Binnein Mòr at the eastern end, every mountain, with the Grey Corries beyond, looked fabulous in the sunshine. 

I spent ages wandering around the summit, taking pictures and gazing at the awesome view, until eventually I headed west down the rocky path that led me down to the saddle and up to the summit of Sgùrr an Iubhair where I took many pictures, mesmerised by the view east, back towards Stob Coire a’ Chàirn with Binnein Mòr behind, displaying the Mamores in its glory. Sadly my photographs lack depth due to the bright sunshine, which is a shame as the view from my perspective was sensational. Eventually I began to descend veering south to avoid the cliffs of Coire nam Miseach until I reached the col where a path led me north descending into Coire a’ Mhusgain. This was an excellent path which I enjoyed coming down until eventually I began to think about dinner since it was now six o’clock. I didn’t want to camp at this point, but I did make my dinner and after eating I continued along the path through the increasingly wooded valley until eventually I reached the road in Glen Nevis. There I turned up the valley along a fabulous path through gloriously wild scenery with bluebells providing a lovely foreground display to the Nevis gorge in the distance. 

This was an exhausting climb because of the warm, sunny evening and it continued as I made my way along the road and through the fabulous Nevis gorge footpath, which has not lost any of its charm despite being very popular. The Steall waterfall at the top was lit by the setting sun, but with a large party preparing to camp there I kept going until I reached the ruins of Steall and camped there. This was a long, tiring day passing through amazing scenery with fabulous weather that you can often only dream about in the Highlands of Scotland, so I felt fortunate. I keep telling myself that I now prefer long distance trails instead of mountains, but when you are at the top of a mountain in good weather the old feelings about mountains come back. But going up a mountain is a lot easier when you are not carrying the heavy camping equipment required for a long distance trail and I could tell my body was more than twenty years older than when I was first in the Mamores with my knees especially causing me problems on this walk.

The Devil’s Staircase and the Ciaran Path

Monday 25th May 2026

While planning for this holiday I tried to create a long distance trail across the West Highlands of Scotland, which begs the question: what not just do the West Highland Way? This is a good point, but I have done that before, so I didn’t want to do it again and I wanted something more mountainous, that climbs onto the tops of the hills rather than staying in the valleys. I had started my trail on the Loch Lomond and Cowal Way, but after reaching Loch Lomond I had difficulty deciding how to continue heading north without resorting to the West Highland Way, which is what I eventually did because bad weather left me with no other choice. Therefore, my west highland trail had so far brought me to Bridge of Orchy and technically I should have returned there to continue heading north, either towards Ben Alder or along the West Highland Way. Instead I decided to spend a couple of nights in Glencoe and now I was going to resume my trek from there and for the next five days I had a route of my own devising that would take me through the west highlands until I reached Loch Ness, which I had decided would be my end point. Loch Leven and Aonach Eagach were a clear barrier in my efforts to head north, so I wasn’t done with the West Highland Way yet and so I needed to head east through Glen Coe until I was back on the West Highland Way following the trail over the Devil’s Staircase. 

After two interesting nights in Glencoe I set off along the minor road that the youth hostel is on and after crossing the main road I headed along the footpath that runs alongside through the upper part of Glen Coe below the awesome Three Sisters of Glen Coe. Dramatic mountains towered either side of me with their heads still clinging to clouds though there were signs that this thick cloud that had stayed with me for almost a week was soon to end. I headed slowly up the valley continuing beyond the turning for the hidden valley which I had taken the day before and past the cars on the road, which were tailed back a long way, now climbing above the road on an excellent track that must be the old road from several hundred years ago, passing the entrance to Lairig Eilde and the northern buttress of Buachaille Etive Beag. I had now emerged from Glen Coe into the sunshine which was breaking through the clouds and I felt ecstatic at being in this fabulous mountain scenery with the sun shining. Unfortunately the excellent path eventually came to an end at a car park and beyond that the path was sketchy at best and often very wet until I finally reached the course of the West Highland Way at the start of the Devil’s Staircase.

This is easily the steepest part of the whole trail, but from my perspective the path is relatively easy as it zigzags clearly up the hillside until finally depositing me at the top of the pass between Stob Mhic Mhartuin and Beinn Bheag. I decided this would be a good place for me to stop and have my lunch, despite the large of numbers of people also there and passing through, before setting off myself down the clear path that was now bathed in sunshine, though thick cloud still clung to all the mountains. I really enjoyed walking along this path with good views into valley of the River Leven, even if not of the mountains, while bathed in sunlight. This was a prolonged descent, first crossing the small stream Allt a’ Choire Odhair-bhig and then over the tip of the ridge Sròn a’ Choire Odhair-bhig before a steeper descent brought me to the crossing of another stream, Allt a’ Choire Odhair-mhòir. Eventually my enjoyment was ruined by reaching a wide track that was really just the road to the vast Blackwater Reservoir. This eventually led me into Kinlochleven, strictly following the West Highland Way all the way, where I bought some food, topped up my water bottles and then set off to find somewhere to wild camp. Soon after crossing the River Leven, on my way into Kinlochleven, I had seen a sign for the Ciaran Path, which intrigued me so I decided to see where it took me and I was blown away by what I found.

It took me through gorgeous woodland with steep slopes above the River Leven through scenery that was so wild and unspoilt I could hardly believe I was in crowded Britain. It breaks my heart that we don’t get such unspoilt terrain more often in Britain, but I was frustrated at not getting good views through the trees, though a couple of times I had breaks in the vegetation where I could get a more open view of the amazing landscape. It was very hot in the sheltered valley, while dragging my heavy rucksack slowly uphill, so the water that had only just obtained in Kinlochleven didn’t last very long. Eventually I emerged from the trees to reach the enormous Blackwater Reservoir, and while I knew that there is a bothy at Loch Chiarain, it was still a long way away, and the walk along the Ciaran Path had completely worn me out, so I had no energy left to keep going. As soon as I found a source of water I stopped and put up my tent. The heatwave that England had been enduring for many days was now finally coming to Scotland, so even though the clouds had still not lifted from the mountains I was hopeful that in the following days I would finally be able to enjoy some fabulous mountain walking. Meanwhile, that evening I lay in my tent gazing across Blackwater Reservoir at the mountains that I had crossed on the Devil’s Staircase earlier in the day and looked forward to the mountains that I would be climbing in the next couple of days.

Glen Coe

Sunday 24th May 2026

During a day spent resting from walking, I had moved from the Crianlarich Youth Hostel to the Glen Coe Youth Hostel where I had previously been twenty years ago but I had not been back since, so while planning this holiday I decided that I would spend a few days there to reacquaint myself with this fabulous place. In 2006 I had climbed Bidean Nam Bian, the highest point in the area, in quite poor weather with zero visibility, so I wanted to go back and, this time, be able to appreciate the view, however, if the weather was just as bad then I wasn’t sure it would be worth it. While England endured its first heatwave of the year, Scotland was wet, humid and drizzly, with thick clouds covering the sky, so I was not optimistic of following my footsteps of twenty years ago. Nevertheless, I set off along the quiet country lane from the youth hostel, past the Red Squirrel Campsite and the Clachaig Inn to reach the River Coe. After crossing the main road I walked along the path than runs alongside, passing Loch Achtriochtan, into the treeless upper part of Glen Coe below the impressive buttresses of the Three Sisters of Glencoe, which looked no less imposing with their heads in the clouds. Between the second and third sister the path branched down to cross the River Coe in an impressive gorge and then climbed steeply up into Coire Gabhail.

This is a difficult, rough path with some scrambling required in places, but despite this it is very popular. Metal steps provide access into the gorge, but the climb back up is a steep, but easy scramble that takes you to a junction. The route marked on Ordnance Survey maps turns right to climb above the valley while the left turning, clearer path keeps nearer to the burn. I thought I’d try the right turn, which took me onto a manufactured path, climbing towards the middle ridge of the three sisters and provided me with a great route and views, even though most people were taking the lower path. Eventually it began to descend steeply back down to the burn where stepping stones took the reunited paths onto a clear, manufactured route up the slopes of the other side of the valley until a stupendous view was revealed of a hidden valley. After the steep ascent through the tree-filled valley up to this point it is surprising to see a flat bottomed valley ahead hidden away amongst the hills. The last time I was in this so-called lost valley was 2016 when the weather was worse than on this day, it was raining, and even that was better than in 2006 when the cloud was so low I hadn’t seen anything. But, even though the weather was better than on those occasions, I was still not going to have a view from Bidean Nam Bian, so I was reluctant to climb out of the hidden valley.

After crossing the plain I started to ascend, but only so far until I had a good view back across Coire Gabhail to the mountains on the opposite side of Glen Coe. There were other people climbing up to the col and I could have followed them, but I didn’t want to. I have lost interest in bagging mountains and unless the weather is good I can’t see the point of being at the top of a mountain. I’ve seen too many trig points and cairns in misty conditions to want to see another one. Eventually I made my way back down the valley and I thought I’d explore the start of the gorge rather than taking to the path, but I soon realised that there no way down that way, so I returned to the plain and followed the clear path up, across the southern slopes and then down, over the stepping stones and, this time, I took the more popular, lower path, which was clearly much older and tricky in places where the rocks were wet. Eventually I crossed the River Coe again and into Glen Coe following the path beside the main road while wondering what to do next since it was early afternoon. On the other side of Loch Achtriochtan I followed the river on a new all-abilities footpath past some waterfalls to reach the car park for Signal Rock, which I had previously visited on that wet day in 2016. I am not sure whether I had actually reached the rock on that occasion, but I did now, but there is no view due to the tall, encircling conifers, so I retreated back to the River Coe.

The Glencoe Greenway continued on a wide path that was too easy for me, but enabled me to disengage my brain as I followed the trail, which eventually led me to the visitor centre where a path continues as part of the Glencoe Orbital path, beside the main road and into the village of Glencoe. Beyond the village, the trail continued across the River Coe and took me onto a narrow, off-road path through dark conifers until I returned to the youth hostel. This was a good, relaxing walk to end the day while the weather, which had worsened at lunchtime, now finally improved with the sun beginning to break through the clouds. Despite my walking this day repeating much of what I had done in 2016 it was more enjoyable because ten years ago I had been really frustrated with the weather, but I have come to realise now that I don’t need to go up a mountain to have a good walk.