The MET office had issued weather warnings for wind and rain. SEPA had issued flood warnings for the Western Highlands. The MWIS weather forecast used the word “atrocious”. This was going to be an interesting weekend. Ferries would be cancelled, people would fail to appear and only an idiot would attempt the walk through the Rough Bounds of Knoydart to Inverie.
Joe stumbled out of his car, somewhere near the shore of Loch Quoich. He squinted around in the daylight to see a general greyness and, surprisingly, no snow. He could swear there had been snow by the sides of the road on the drive up the glen the night before but it had gone. A sideways glance at a nearby burn told him where it had gone. Great cataracts of water were thundering down from the hillsides into the loch below, to be joined by the constant rainfall that the car was currently sheltering him from.
The relentless westerlies that had gently rocked him to sleep in the car had ramped up a gear and when he stood up straight he was slapped in the face by another volley of rain. He bent back down in the lee of the wind, coughing, (day 57 of his chronic winter lurgy), felt the ache in his hip from a spectacular fall on a recent ski holiday to Meribel (fell down the chalet stairs) and then walked to the back of the car, feeling the muscular pain in his legs from his first run of the year (15 minutes of jogging around Cooper Park a few days earlier). It was clear that he met the aforementioned criterion for walking to Inverie.
The boot tail gate flew up, caught by the wind. The upright strut on the right pinged off and for a couple of desperate minutes it looked like the end of the car would be ripped clean off. For a second or two it seemed that an aerial trip to the land of Oz would be more credulous than a walk to Inverie. Grasping the boot with his left hand, Joe managed to grapple with the ball and socket joint with his right and fit it back together before slamming it shut and diving into the car through the rear passenger door. After some faffing, packing, obligatory coffee and some more faffing, he eventually shuffled into the wild.
The walk was less eventful than the packing. The shore of the loch was followed to the mouth of the Abhainn Chosaidh, which was a truly terrifying sight. The white spray of the water, huge standing waves and dull clunking of boulders smashing into each other on the riverbed were enough to make the blood run cold at the thought falling into the river, and any thought of fording it, as one would have to to reach Sourlies Bothy, was completely out of the question. The glen was followed up over to the bealach to Glen Barrisdale. Some very picturesque waterfalls were seen along the way and each burn was successfully forded or boulder-hopped. Barisdale Bothy was reached shortly before nightfall but with no fireplace it was not an appealing place to spend the night when the bunkhouse in Inverie was a possibility. The bunkhouse was reached sometime later and the welcome was wonderful. Lights, heating, a drying room to be filled with one person’s kit, a hot shower and a comfy bed. Bliss.
Andy, Jake, Rachel, Kevin, Sue and Malcolm arrived on the Friday on a wild and windy crossing from Mallaig. Once unpacked Andy set off for a walk to Sandaig to savour the bracing weather and Sue walked up the glen to Mam Barrisdale. The journey there wasn’t so bad, but the walk back, into the full force of the westerly gale was more of a struggle and at one stage she considered that a descent to Barisdale might be the only option if the westerly winds increased to such an extent to make progress impossible.
Rachel, Kevin and Malcolm went a step further. Rachel, tantalisingly close to completing her Munros, was keen to bag the Knoydart Three, so set off with Kevin and Malcolm to climb Ladhar Bheinn. The wind, fierce at sea level, grew stronger with every metre climbed and after a while Malcolm had had enough and turned to descend. The other two kept climbing until they had reached about 850m by which time the wind had grown to dangerous levels. Considering the narrow ridge and the precipitous drops on the eastern side of the hill, it is just as well that in this case discretion was the better part of valour and they turned to leave the hill for another day.
On Saturday Andy took a stroll up to the Dhubh Loch, after waiting in vain for the weather to improve, only for a bright spell to last long enough for him to tie his boot laces. Still, the walk was worthwhile, if a little wet. More energetic was Rachel who braved the weather to run the 12 miles to Inverguseran and back.
Another group of five booked on the Friday evening ferry from Mallaig but when the west winds blow plans go out the window… Katie describes her Saturday, and Friday night below, as transcribed from the Book of Climbs:
“Five of us got marooned at the remote port of Mallaig. We wandered the village pubs in search of our fellow mountaineers. Our expedition was fruitless so we headed back to our bunkhouse in hope to find our friends in the morning (if we were able to board the boat in those high winds). Fuelled by bacon breakfast baps, the five of us braved the high winds and horizontal rain and headed for the ferry port. The first success we found on our trip – the ferry plans to leave at 9.30am, the boat deck was full with five mountaineers clad in waterproofs and heavy packs when five fellow passengers boarded the boat two in kilts minus underwear (dangerous in high winds), two finely dressed ladies with hair do’s that took longer than a Munro climb and the vicar who tells us there’s a wedding in Knoydart. Suddenly we felt under-dressed! We started on the track in search of the bunkhouse and the ferry operator passed us in his landrover. He took pity on us and dropped us at the bunkhouse. A swift unpack and repack and we were ready to start out on an adventurous day. With 50mph winds and sheets of rain we were scared off from any high climbs on the hills. We set off along the road, avoided the temptation of the pub and continued to the beach. We harvested our afternoon snack – mussels and seaweed. Laden with this harvest we scrambled along the coastline to the cave that is marked on the map. The cave rewarded us with shelter (which it has done for a number of deer – we could tell by the amount of deer poo filling the cave). From the cave we followed a circular route back to the village. Passed the pub in which we were sadly refused entry.”
Thankfully, later in the evening the pub opened and everyone was allowed in. Beer was drunk, food was eaten and plans were discussed for the next day, which was to prove to be the calmest and driest of the long weekend.
Dan describes his Sunday:
“The glimpse of blue sky on Sunday morning was a welcome change after days of rain. Some folk headed for the big hills, but my ferry was due to leave at 3pm. Others set off at sparrow’s fart towards Ladhar Bheinn, but that was hours ago. Others decided to walk out to Loch Quoich, but my car was at Mallaig. …hmm plan needed. The snow capped hill behind Inverie caught my attention. A short while later I was slogging my way up the steep grassy slopes of Sgurr Coire Choinnichean. This gave way to a nice snowy ridge above about 500m. By this time the early morning sunshine had buggered off to Moray – to be replaced with wind, snow and zero visibility. Navigation along a ridge should be easy, but identifying the point to turn north into the corrie was not entirely clear. After a bit of faffing amongst cliffs I arrived at the boggy corrie floor. The mist briefly parted to reveal a large herd of deer, but otherwise the walk back to Inverie was uneventful. Once back, the summit of Sgurr Coire Choinnichean was once more glinting in sunlight.”
Kevin reportedly left before everyone else awoke to have another go at climbing Ladhar Bheinn before catching the afternoon ferry and succeeded, both in getting to the top and catching the ferry. Tremendous views were had between the showers.
Al and Katie decided that a walk out of Knoydart would be a fine alternative to returning the same way as they arrived, and Joe assured them that he had a reasonably good idea where he’d left the car. They decided to leave at 8 o’clock to attempt to make it to Loch Quoich before nightfall. Jake, Malcolm and Rachel were staying another night at the bunkhouse and were not in so much of a rush to leave for their day in the hills. They left, as planned at 9 o’clock. Predictably, Al, Joe and Katie left after them. The walk out was pleasant, with good weather and good company enjoyed on the wander over Mam Barrisdale, lunch at the bothy where the boistrous puppy Jack was encountered, and then the gorgeous Fjord of Loch Hourn was followed to its end, where Joe gleefully told his companions that they now had to walk all the way from the Atlantic Ocean to the far side of the main Scottish watershed, as the car was parked in the River Ness catchment. Al, a Californian, was somewhat comforted by the notion that this would not be as onerous as walking from the Atlantic Ocean to the far side of the American watershed. A short while later, just as the light was fading and the stars were making themselves known above the silhouettes of the hills, the car was found.
A group of five stayed behind in Knoydart for another day and night. This group included Andy, who didn’t need to get back to work on Monday morning… “Work, I used to do that you know”, and Sue. Sue set off for a long walk up the coast road, past Doune to Airor. She then walked along the coast, enjoying the waves crash on the shore, with views to Skye beyond. The Abhainn Inbhir Ghuiserein, the river draining the western flanks of Ladhar Bheinn was reached and followed inland over trackless terrain to a bridge. With plenty of daylight, Sue then turned to follow the river back to the sea to find a few isolated shingle-beach bays with interesting rocks, and great views in the sunny but cold weather. She returned to the bunkhouse at 6pm and waited for the three Munro baggers to return, who finally did three hours later, via the pub.
The three Munro baggers, or rather two Munro baggers and a tag-along, recorded their adventures in the Book of Climbs:
“After a rather wet weekend so far… the three explorers extrordinaire awoke to blue skies and sunshine, with such a glorious sight. Jake ‘Absolutely Magnificent’ Lee, Malcolm ‘Murdoch’ Campbell and Rachel ‘Motoring’ Higgins sprinted from the bunkhouse as fast as their legs would carry them, Munro bound! After a ‘brief’ shower Mam Barrisdale was reached and the ascent of Luinne Bheinn began.
More blue sky and sunshine was seen and a view at the summit too!
Then it was down, up, down, crampons on, crampons off (for those who had) and the second summit of the day Meall Buidhe was reached – hooray! Cue mountaineering leg pose at cairn and a dodgy selfie.
Off the hill and Old Forge Inn bound. Fantastic day and great company. Cheers, let the party commence!”
Last word on Monday morning in Inverie goes to Sue:
“On the Monday we realised we weren’t going to make the 8.15am ferry (some had been up as late as 5.30). Luckily Malcolm was able to skype the ferry company to say we’d be on the 11am ferry. They said it was going at 10, causing mass panic as people tried to pack and clean the bunkhouse simultaneously. It was a rush down the road to reach the ferry with five minutes to spare – I’m just glad I didn’t have any heavy beer to carry back! The trip was a little rough but not as bad as we thought it was going to be.
Report Author: Joe
Photos: Rachel and Kevin