Mallaig makes for a lovely gentle start to the Challenge. The ferry to Inverie doesn't leave until after 10.00 am and there was plenty of time to linger of a full breakfast. In the dining room there were more Challengers. Some, like Mark, were first-timers like myself. Others were Challenge legends, especially the La Borwits from Maryland, USA - Lou, Phylis and their Granddaughter Gretchen (who at 19 was the youngest participant this year).
Lou Phyllis & Gretchen La Borwitt prepapre for the ferry
We all met again at the harbour where the crew of the ferry worked hard, over an hour or so, to load all of the packs onto the ferry. The journey to Inverie was good fun with a short patch of open sea providing just enough pitch and roll to provide a little excitement. Before long the small quay at Inverie came into sight and we were disembarking. You need to be patient as the crew unload the packs and help you up the steep steps to dry land. If the tide is out unloading can take quite a long time which, apparently, means a trip to the Old Forge pub which proudly announces itself as the most secluded pub in Britain. Today there was no need to wait in the pub but it didn't stop at least half of the group from turning left off the quay, straight towards the bar of the Forge.
But I was in the mood for walking and joined the other half of the group heading out on the trail. I found myself walking with some nice folks from the Backpacking Club and before long I was promising Christine that I would join up as soon as I got back to civilisation. Worrying that if I spent too long with this bunch I would end of committing myself to spending a fortune, I pushed on. At the memorial to the men of Knoydart who fought against absentee land-owners, a reminder of the peninsula's sad, yet recent, past.
Knoydart Memorial
The Knoydart was "cleared" in 1853 after the Macdonell's of Glengarry sold the land to meet huge debts. The people of the Knoydart were paid to leave Scotland and take a boat to Australia, but the Captain of the ship had other ideas. Just out of port he decided that Australia was too expensive a destination, set sail for North America where he deposited his human cargo in Canada. The land was given over the sheep grazing but this proved to be unsuccessful and very quickly the peninsula was given over to deer.
As you stride out, alone, into the Knoydart you can feel the loneliness and sadness of the place. Today the Knoydart is owned by the John Muir Trust which aims "to repair the damage inflicted on the land over centuries, to maintain it in its natural state without development, to preserve it as a legacy for generations to come". The Knoydart is as near a wilderness as you can find in Britain. Inverie - with its small population making a living out of the sea, some crofting and a little tourism - is the only centre of population here. The paths themselves have an interesting history; some of them were built by the engineer James Watt who was contracted to build some Knoydart paths on his return from Rhodesia.
The paths are pretty good and soon I was climbing quickly up Glen Medail and on towards Soulies Bay. As I descended the bay opened up before me. At the bottom of the climb a lovely, grassy campsite, near to some ruins, was occupied by a small cluster of tents but there was nobody about. The tide was out which meant for an easier walk around to the Soulies Bothy but not before I crossed the first of my many precarious looking bridges across the river. I realised that many, many, walkers must cross this bridge every year but I was still delighted to get to the other side in one piece. At high tide you would have to clamber over low crags which I'm told would add another hour to the walk to Soulies, but at low tide I made good time and was surprised when the bothy suddenly appeared over my left shoulder.
Soulies Bay; Soulies Bothy
Soulies Bothy is little more than a small, stone shack but it occupies the most magnificent position, overlooking a completely unspoilt bay. The bothy was being occupied by a lovely local man and his son who took a break from cutting wood to offer me some tea and to cast their eyes over my onward route. They explained that Soulies was a very special, magical space. I had to gently break the news to them that there were probably 30 or so other walkers an hour or so behind me - some of whom had been in the pub for a couple of hours! They looked a little disappointed. They knew of the Challenge but I think thought that it was passing through a week later.
I was also wanting to avoid camping with another 30 or so Challengers. The weather was good, I was walking well and I decided to push on as far as I could. This was backpacking at its very best. The sun came out, my jacket attached to my pack and splashed suntan lotion on my skin. There are few things better than this, walking alone through great hill country, with no deadlines, just the opportunity to camp wild when I felt it was time to settle for the night. The path over towards Glendessarry becomes less prominent but route finding is easy in this terrain as there is no mistake which pass you are walking through. The map showed that there were a couple of Lochans up here that might make good wild camp sites. In fact, the best camping area here you reach before the lochans, a lovely grassy spot through which a small river gently meanders - quite a magical landscape. But I still had a lot of walking in me. When I reached the lochans rain began to fall and the I decided this was not a place to camp and so I continued on, and down, into Glendessarry.
Climbing towards Glendessarry
I decided to make my way towards the Al Chun bothy. At Soulies I was shown a new, better track through the forest and pretty soon I found myself on it. Here I had my first moment of real excitement. After a couple of hundred yards I came across a small burn that was flowing about twenty feet down in a deep ravine. Across the gap were spread three or four planks that looked rather rotten. Sense dictated that I should turn back and walk around the edge of the forest to the bothy, but I decided to risk it. I chose the two least rotten-looking planks and gently began to shuffle along them. After a foot or so I found that I could anchor my trekking poles to the bank on the other side. This was a mistake. My balance was now spread equally over both banks; I was stuck. There was nothing else for it. I pushed off towards the far side, the rotten planks collapsed underneath me but my momentum splatted me against the far bank, like something from a cartoon. Fortunately I was able to grasp at some long clumps of grass and to haul myself up, our of the depths. Rather relieved to be in one piece I quickly resolved to be far more careful over the next two weeks. Day one and I was walking alone, on a quiet path that I was certain that nobody else would cross that evening. Silly boy.
Soon I was through the trees and I could see the bothy, a rather large and splendid construction, ahead of me. I wasn't sure that I wanted to stay in the bothy and soon a wonderful wild-camp site came into view, close to running water and near to the footbridge that would set me on my way for the footpath in the morning. Others had obviously enjoyed the site before me; a small circle of decent sized stones formed provided some rather comfortable seating.
I had been walking for nine and a half hours. The tent was soon up, a hot meal eaten and my journal entry written for the day. If the rest of the Challenge was going to be like today then this crossing was going to be a wonderful experience.
Wildcamp in Glendessarry