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There's something energising and wonderful about the Hill Tracks of North West Scotland. It is a wonderful feeling to hit the trail and we attacked the tracks at full speed, fuelled - I was convinced - by the haggis that had been included in the morning's breakfast.
The track quickly climbed above the small hamlet of Achintee and within a few minutes we were over the first ridge and into the hills. There was no trace of Strathcarron, of roads, houses or other signs of civilisation other than the fence that lay at the side of the track. We were walking through the Attadale Forest. The word 'forest' on a Scottish map is always rather misleading. Once - centuries ago - these slopes were indeed covered in wonderful Caledonian Forest. The slopes were entirely stripped of their foliage during the time of the 'clearances', when local communities were dispersed to make way for sheep farming. In many areas sheep farming quickly failed. The land was too wild and the soils not rich enough, sheep being rather discerning creatures when it comes to the quality of grass. Sheep quickly gave way to deer with hunting becoming a major income source for the large estates of the area. Some dedicated enthusiasts and enlightened estates are gradually re-planting the forest but they may never regain their former glory. Nevertheless, the clearances left us with the dramatic landscape that we all know today.
After climbing high alongside some woodland our path turned North West, heading down towards Bendroniag Lodge, a small white speck of a building that sat in the shadow of Beinn Dronaig. We descended down the hillside with Kate and Tim, eventually hitting an estate track and walking on to the lodge.
Descending to Bendronaig Lodge
The Lodge bothy is a real find. The bothy is maintained by the Attadale Estate, rather than the Mountain Bothy Association, and is positively luxurious. There are fireplaces in every one of the three small rooms, each with a different coloured tile surround. And there is a real toilet! There was freshly cut wood by the stove in the main room and new blades for a wood saw in case we wanted to help stock up. A notice on the wall reminded users that the bothy is not a holiday cottage; most users would only stay two or three nights maximum The bothy was so comfortable that the notice may well have been necessary!
After a quick lunch break we left our fellow Challengers and continued along the track, which climbs and bends around Beinn Dronaig, up to Loch Calavie. Our route had suggested that we would climb Beinn Dronaig. But this now felt more than ambitious on day one and we were content to ease our legs in gently.
At the end of Loch Calvaire we embarked on our first cross country slog. From here the main track heads North west towards Pate Lodge before turning South West again, avoiding a large area of peat bog in the process. However, crossing the peat bog would save us a great deal of time and distance and would allow us to camp high that evening. We crossed the outflow stream from the lock, set the compass to a South westerly bearing and squelched off over the bog.
Nothing quite prepares you for Scottish bogs. They are everywhere and, almost uniquely in the world, the seem to exist at almost any height. Scottish peat bogs often seem to come at you at a 45 degree angle. Crossing them is tough. If you're wearing trail shoes, like we were, your feet are permanently soaked. I always like to cheer myself up by remembering that my footwear - and indeed my feet - can only absorb so much water; after the first dunking the rest doesn't count. And, as I told Kate constantly as we plunged from one wet hole to the next, this route was going to save us a whole load of time. Once the initial discomfort is put behind you peat bog hopping can be quite good fun although allowance has to be made for sinking into bits of bog that cunningly lie in wait for you. At one point I plunged in and found myself hip-deep in bog and it took some time to extricate myself from the goo.
The bog rolls on forever!
Eventually we found ourselves at the Alt Loin Fhiodha river, which had to be crossed to regain a good path. On our way north it seemed that the rivers were in spate and I'd worried about crossing the Loin which I was told could be quite tricky. But the rain we'd seen was the first in several months and the spates had been caused by the quick run-off of surface water. A day later and the river seemed pretty low. We clambered up the opposite bank to join to track that ran south, via a small bothy (Maol-bhuidhe), towards Iron Bridge. We could see the bothy, a welcoming white building sitting above a lovely small lochan. It looked inviting but this was not our glen. We'd planned to take the parallel glen, the Coire nan Fach, up to a high Loch which looked like a great camp spot. We sat on the track, ate a snack, and considered whether to carry on our route or to take the short walk to the bothy.
Glen Coire nan Fach
We decided to carry on with our original route and were well rewarded. The small glen we climbed was solitary but very beautiful in its sparseness. Eventually we reached Loch Mhoicrean and found a lovely, grassy bank on the side of the loch. A fresh spring gushed out sweet, fresh water a couple of feet away.
This was the perfect setting at which to end our first day. The weather forecast for the next few days was promising. If everyday was as good as this one we were in for a wonderful crossing.
Loch Mhoicrean Wildcamp
25 kilometres, 790 metres ascent.