A Cairn Society

I've just crossed the hills to reach Ullapool, guided along the way by cairns, the wee pyramids of stones that indicate the pathways. Today has been sunny, but in any kind of bad weather the cairns are a lifesaver, guiding walkers safely through the snow or fog. 

 

A gift, in the hills

 

The person who starts a cairn is a mountain philanthropist. They are on the route, they know where they are, so they don't need the cairn. They pile up the stones for the people who come after them. It's a wholly altruistic act, thinking only of the others who might pass that way. There is no ego involved - you don't leave your name on the cairn - and none of the 'warm glow' that people get from other forms of philanthropy - as happens when you give money to a needy person on the street.

I put a stone on the cairn as I pass it, to say thanks to the person who started it. 

I Vont to be Aloyne...

I'm in the valley of the River Loyne, and totally alone. 

 

Crossing the bealach to Loch Loyne

 

The only evidence of other humans is the footprints that someone left in the muddy path, maybe three or four days ago. There are far,  far more deer prints than human prints. 

Barring an accident, which would be very complicated to resolve out here, I'm happy, alone. It's the distance, the repetition of foot after foot over kilometres of terrain, that has a calming, hypnotic effect, easing away worries about being alone. 

(If you like your glacial geomorphology, this is the place to be; U-shaped valley, misfit stream, roches moutonées in abundance, and a huge corrie at Coire nan Leac. It's absolutely spectacular.) 

West of Mandalay

I'm back on the road again after a few days of rest and recuperation (and some serious carbo loading) near Inverness. Tonight I'm camped near the river Garry, west of Mandally... which is a wee bit smaller, colder and midgier than its Myanmar nearly-namesake.

 

 

Tent on the beech...

This is the start of the long section West then North to join the Cape Wrath Trail. Heeding the advice I've had I'm carrying seven days' supplies, so my fat friend is fairly bulging, despite unloading as much unused kit as possible in Inverness. 

I have also changed out of walking boots and gaiters, and into light, quick-drying trail shoes. So many people - who have done Cape Wrath - said that leather boots simply never dry out.

So, heavy pack, lighter shoes... I'll probably imbalance... 

Bothy Blether

I'm now out of the Cairngorm, and having a wee rest in Inverness before tackling the big, boggy, Cape Wrath section of the Scottish National Trail, starting at Fort Augustus. 

For full disclosure, that means that I will skip a 60km section between Kingussie and Fort Augustus. Various reasons; my much-loved niece has just given birth to a wee boy in Inverness and I want to visit, I need to do a serious resupply because the next section passes through very few villages, and I'm physically pretty tired after walking here from the Borders, so I need a few days of recovery time. I'll do the missing section another time.

Back in the Cairngorm, after two days of rain, hail, fording rivers and plowtering through bogs (my daughter commented that Scotland is the only country in the world with bogs on slopes - how come the bog doesn't drain?) I reached the Ruigh Aiteachain bothy in Glen Feshie.

What a luxury! A stove with cut logs to feed it, a dry floor to sleep on, a fresh-water spring and composting toilets. I'm not being ironic - after days in the rain and the bogs these are real luxuries. 

But the best of the bothy is the people. Folk who have tramped up the mountain to get here; Charlie, cheery cyclist enjoying early retirement by taking off on long-distance mountain adventures, comes to Scotland regularly on the sleeper train. Dave, the ecologist with his lovely companion, a sheepdog who just lives for the sticks we can throw for him. And Nell, on a Mountain Leadership course, heading off just after dawn the next morning to climb another Munro. 

The relationship is ephemeral - we are unlikely ever to meet again - but it's instantly friendly, funny and warm. We blether about everything from the inevitable discussion about kit and how to get that rucksack lighter, to land management, Scottish independence, and the feeding habits of the buzzard. We can talk freely, taking care not to offend, because by the morning we'll be gone. 

The bothy levels us all out. It really does not matter where we come from, what we work at, or how much we have in the bank. We have all struggled to get here, and we'll struggle to go on. 

I know that I've been lucky with this, my first bothy experience, both because the bothy is unusually well equipped, but also because these three are all good people; there are grim tales of bothy nights shared with party-people on a mountain rave. 

But with these people, we created a bothy community in minutes, talking and sharing and looking out for each other. It's surprising that humanity doesn't do better at communities, and that we spend so much time, and so many lives, at war. 

Travellers

The Scottish National Trail starts in the wee village of Kirk Yetholm, two kilometres from the border with England. 

Kirk Yetholm was until the early 20th century, the 'capital' for the Roma people in Britain. It was where they crowned the "Gipsy" King or Queen, and the wee cottage where the Roma leader lived was called, with a nice sense of irony, "The Palace".

The Palace looks onto the village green and The Border pub (go there, it's really friendly). Camped on the green, exercising to the full his right to roam, was Jack, who is walking from John O'Groats to Lands End, four times the distance I will do in my Stroll. 

Jack travels light, with a tarpaulin supported by walking poles, and the minimum of kit. He wants to see life, escape from the claustrophobia of a planned existence and a career. He wants to learn how to do things, because he knows that there is a climate crisis coming and he does not want to be caught out. He is eloquent and an easy talker (he says it's because he worked in a bar, but I think it's natural).

In the hostel is Sue, who volunteers there. She's retired, but still runs at 1000Kw of energy, cycling, walking, scuba diving and travelling. She's firm with the hostel residents (she described one as 'gobby' after he objected to making his own bed) and travels to escape from rules and tedium. 

Sue and Jack have broken out of the conventions and borders that box us in, but have kept a strong sense of community and humanity. They are fitting people for a village where the Roma spirit lives on.

A Stroll Up Scotland

My plan is to walk the 864km of the Scottish National Trail, between May and June 2022*.

The trail, devised by outdoors writer and broadcaster Cameron McNeish, runs from the Scottish border to Cape Wrath, through central Scotland, the Cairngorm, and the damp, boggy and midgy North West. The offical start is at the Kirk Yetholm Hostel, but I am planning to start a couple of days' walk further south west, at Kirkton, where my paternal grandmother was brought up.

It's always sunny, in Scotland

My estimated timings and walks - from the excellent WalkHighlands website, are:

 

Estimated Date	Stage		Time
2/5/2022	Kirkton to Ferniehirst	16km	4-5 hours
3/5/2022	Ferniehirst to Kirk Yetholm	25km	6-8 hours
4/5/2022	Kirk Yetholm - Harestanes	28km	6-8 hours
5/5/2022	Harestanes to Melrose	24km	6-7 hours
6/5/2022	Melrose to Traquair	29km	6-8 hours
7/5/2022	Traquair to Peebles	12km	3 hours
8/5/2022	Peebles to West Linton	21km	5-6 hours
9/5/2022	West Linton to Balerno	19.25km	5-6 hours
10/5/2022	Balerno to Slateford	8.5km	2 hours
11/5/2022	Stop in Edinburgh
12/5/2022	Slateford to Ratho	9.5km	2-3 hours
13/5/2022	Ratho to Linlithgow	21km	4-5 hours
14/5/2022	Linlithgow to Falkirk	14.5km	3.5-4 hours
15/5/2022	Falkirk to Kilsyth	18km	4-5 hours
16/5/2022	Kilsyth to Milngavie	21.25km	5-5.5 hours
17/5/2022	Stop in Glasgow
18/5/2022	Milngavie to Drymen	19km	5-6 hours
19/5/2022	Drymen to Aberfoyle	17.5km	4.5-5 hours
20/5/2022	Aberfoyle to Callander	15.25km	4.5-5 hours
21/5/2022	Callander to Comrie	26.5km	6.5-7.5 hours
22/5/2022	Comrie to Loch Freuchie	30km	8-9 hours
23/5/2022	L. Freuchie to Aberfeldy	20km	4.5-5.5 hours
24/5/2022	Aberfeldy to Pitlochry	15km	4-5 hours
25/5/2022	Pitlochry to Blair Atholl	13.75km	3-3.5 hours
26/5/2022	Blair Atholl to Bynack	27km	6.5-7.5 hours
27/5/2022	Bynack to Glen Feshie	21.25km	5.5-6.5 hours
28/5/2022	Glen Feshie to Kingussie	23.5km	6-7 hours
29/5/2022	Stop in Kingussie
30/5/2022	Kingussie to Laggan	23.25km	6.5-7 hours
31/5/2022	Laggan to Fort Augustus	39.5km	10-12 hours
1/6/2022	Fort Augustus - Mandally	18.75km	4-4.5 hours
2/6/2022	Mandally to Poulary	19.5km	4-4.5 hours
3/6/2022	Poulary to Cluanie	17.5km	5-6 hours
4/6/2022	Cluanie to Morvich	26km	6.5-7 hours
5-6/6/2022	Stop at Morvich
7/6/2022	Morvich to Maol-bhuidhe	22.5 km	6.5-7 hours
8/6/2022	Maol-bhuidhe to Craig	24.25 km	6.5-7.5 hours
9/6/2022	Craig to Kinlochewe	16.5 km	4-5 hours
10/6/2022	Kinlochewe to Shenavall	28.25 km	7-8 hours
11/6/2022	Shenavall to Inverlael	18.75 km	4-5 hours
12/6/2022	Inverlael to Oykel Bridge	34.5 km	8-11 hours
13/6/2022	Oykel Br. to Inchnadamph	31.5 km	8-11 hours
14/6/2022	Inchnadamph- Kylestrome	27.5km	10-11 hours
15/6/2022	Kylestrome - Rhiconich	29.75km	9-11 hours
16/6/2022	Rhiconich - Sandwood	19km	4.5-5 hours
17/6/2022	Sandwood - Cape Wrath	12.5km	3.5-4.5 hours

 

I have added two days onto the standard route, so that I can start in Kirkton - there are family-history connections with the place, and pass Ferniehirst Castle, the seat of Clan Kerr - I wear the Kerr tartan.

 

 *Delayed because of Covid. My original plan was to do this in...2020, the Year of Covid. In the summer of that year it looked like we might be out of lockdown by the following Spring. Hopeless forecasting, because here we are in January 2022 and just getting out of lockdown now.