Cape Wrath Trail in Winter

The new Cape Wrath Trail Guide website is finally...

Fri, 09 Mar 2012 17:58:22 +0000

The new Cape Wrath Trail Guide website is finally live…

This blog will be closing it’s doors and will no longer be updated. All new information about the Cape Wrath Trail and the new guidebook will be posted on the new site. I’ll leave this blog up as an archive and a reminder of many happy memories.

Thanks to the many people who have got in touch and contributed over the last couple of years. See you out there.

2012 - we have liftoff

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 11:07:00 +0000

So here we are, finally in 2012. It’s an exciting year for me as all being well, the new Cape...

Cape Wrath Trail Guide on Twitter

Sat, 17 Sep 2011 15:59:13 +0100

Work on the new guide continues apace and I’ll be posting a more detailed update here in late...

A new Cape Wrath Trail route alternative for Assynt As followers...

Sat, 16 Jul 2011 10:02:33 +0100

Maps

A new Cape Wrath Trail route alternative for Assynt

As followers of this blog may be aware, I’m currently working on a replacement for the venerable North to the Cape to be published by Cicerone next year. As part of the writing process, I’ve gone back to first principles, looking at the whole Cape Wrath Trail route and its many variants and trying to find places in which it can be improved without losing the sense of “tradition”.

One of the things I’ve been most keen to do is suggest an alternative route option that traverses the heart of Assynt for those that choose to detour via Ullapool. The alternative to re-join the main route is an easy and somewhat uninspiring trundle from the back of Ullapool along the Rhidorroch River via Knockdamph bothy to Glen Oykel before reaching the stupendous Ben More.

A route through Assynt was also suggested by David Paterson in his original book on the Cape Wrath Trail, so I was also keen to include something that paid homage in this new version.

Make no mistake, this is a route only for the most experienced walker and crosses some of the most wild, remote country in Scotland, including several potentially treacherous river crossings before rejoining the main route at Inchnadamph.

Nevertheless, my feeling is that this alternative should be included in the final book, for those that are seeking an extra element of challenge. However, I’d be really interested to hear the views of others both on the route itself and whether you think it is suitable for inclusion in the final guide.

Quick update...

Fri, 20 May 2011 17:38:39 +0100

Heading off tomorrow to nip up the West Highland Way and then check out the main variant for the...

Cape Wrath Trail Guide - April Update

Wed, 13 Apr 2011 19:07:00 +0100

It’s fantastic to see spring finally arrive here in the rolling Cotswolds after another cold...

The new route starts to take shape

Wed, 08 Dec 2010 11:45:37 +0000

For the last few weeks the OS 1:250 000 map for Northern Scotland, Orkney and Shetland has been...

Calling all Cape Wrath Trailers...

Mon, 15 Nov 2010 16:11:00 +0000

Some very exciting news. After a series of discussions I have reached agreement with probably the...

Photos and video from Cape Wrath Trail expeditions winter 08/09...

Mon, 14 Jun 2010 14:48:00 +0100

Photos and video from Cape Wrath Trail expeditions winter 08/09 & 09/10.

Trail Magazine article - July 2010

Fri, 28 May 2010 17:15:39 +0100

Cape Wrath Trail - Trail Magazine July 2010

Trail Magazine article - July 2010

Over to you!

Mon, 24 May 2010 19:28:00 +0100

Over the last couple of years, I’ve done my best to gather together much of the information...

The last post (almost) “After gazing at the sky for some...

Mon, 24 May 2010 19:23:00 +0100

The last post (almost)

“After gazing at the sky for some time, I came to the conclusion that such beauty had been reserved for remote and dangerous places, and that nature has good reasons for demanding special sacrifices from those who dare to contemplate it.”
Richard E. Byrd, Alone, (1938)

One of the things that attracted me to the Cape Wrath Trail was the reaction it inspired in others, particularly when I mentioned I was doing it in midwinter. Their incredulous responses instilled in me the belief that this was an undertaking quite out of the ordinary.

Some scoff that the Cape Wrath Trail has become “too popular” as if popularity was itself a bad thing. Others believe that to stick to a route that misses the majestic heights of the mountains it passes is sacrilegious. But I take great heart in this trail as a walk that draws people out of their everyday lives and into the wild and remote places. There is something in the challenge of traversing this huge tract of land that uniquely captures the imagination.

And part of why I chose to take it on in winter was to show that with a good degree of care and preparation, this is a route that need not be tackled in the fairer months alone. Summer, after all, holds no guarantee of fine weather in this part of the world.

When I started to write this blog two years ago, I intended to use it as a place to jot down a few thoughts as a place to bring together information about a route that I hope will never become “official”. Its beauty is its freedom. There are many possible variations, and the route I took was only one of many. You’ll find no way marks or posts painted with yellow acorns around here. This one’s down to you.

One of the true joys of the trail was the re-discovery of long forgotten parts of Scotland and the resolve it has given me to visit these far removed corners of our stunning island more frequently. I hope if you take on the route, you will find it is just the beginning of an exploration of new areas. And if you see a figure with a big red rucksack emerging from the mizzle with an ear to ear grin, it might just be me. See you out there. Iain

Photos from Cape Wrath trips and other mountain jaunts can be found on Flickr.

If you’re interested in what I’ve been up to since the Cape Wrath Trail you can find out at www.asheepasleep.tumblr.com

Day 14 - Srathchailleach bothy - Cape Wrath (11Km, 200m...

Mon, 24 May 2010 18:58:00 +0100

Day 14 - Srathchailleach bothy - Cape Wrath (11Km, 200m ascent)

Day 15 - Cape Wrath - Strahchailleach bothy

Day 16 - Strahchailleach bothy - Kinlochbervie

Christmas Day dawned much as Christmas Eve. Cold, bright, with a heavy frost on the ground. At least that meant one thing - the deep bogs for which this stretch is infamous were frozen solid. We still had to tread carefully and could have done with crampons, but I’ll take frozen heather over bogs any day.

As a result we made pretty quick progress and were soon at the relatively new boundary fence that delineates the Cape Wrath range. As it was Christmas Day we passed through with no problems, the only interruption being me managing to rip a good sized hole in the seat of my trousers on the barbed wire fence!

The day to the Cape doesn’t really offer too many navigational challenges other than the rough going, so we revelled in the bleakness of the landscape and the sensation of being utterly alone. This is wild, desolate country of the finest order and something we both loved.

Eventually we reached the 4x4 track that leads up and round the final hill to find that too was frozen solid. We inched forward along the sides, skating along the ice in places and trying not to break our necks so close to the final prize. One of the final teases of the Cape Wrath Trail is that although the lighthouse is visible from Sandwood Bay, you don’t then see it again until you’re almost upon it.

So it was with a mixture of relief, happiness and excitement that I finally turned the bend in the track that let me glimpse the lighthouse just a couple of kilometres away. As we approached we could hear dogs barking. In Kinlochbervie, the locals had told us about a cafe at the Cape which we had assumed was a joke at the expense of visitors. But after we had done the obligatory picture stop and decided to head back to find a nicer camp site, we encountered a lone man and a pack of springer spaniels.

This was a slightly surreal sight at such a remote point, but it turned out he did indeed run a cafe at the lighthouse. He was waiting for his wife who had been cut off by the ice we had encountered on the track (we didn’t know it at the time but this was a story that subsequently made the national papers - complete with a cameo from ourselves as intrepid walkers).

Feeling slightly ill at ease with company, we said farewell and headed back to a spot a few miles back that had looked perfect for camping. And so it was, we pitched the Akto’s in the weak winter sunshine and sat brewing tea and contemplating what we had just achieved. The Cape itself had been the ultimate goal, but it had been all about what we were now doing - sitting, nestled in one of the country’s most far off wildernesses watching the sun dip into the North Atlantic, stretching far off towards Iceland.

And so, our journey was almost complete. We’d made the Cape, but being winter, we had no option other than to re-trace our steps via Strathchailleach to Kinlochbervie. With the conditions underfoot this was far from straightforward and at Sandwood we even resorted to lashing old rope to our boots to try and get some more purchase on the ice. It was therefore with considerable relief that we returned to the road at Blairmore and plodded slowly back to Kinlochbervie.

The next day, almost defying belief, the postbus arrived out of the frigid dark to pick us up and wound its way precariously to Lairg. Here the conditions were even colder and we endured an agonisingly cold half hour wait for the train to Inverness where we spent a snowy afternoon browsing the shops before boarding the sleeper south.

Day 12 - Rest Day Kinlochbervie Day 13 - Kinlochbervie -...

Mon, 24 May 2010 18:26:00 +0100

Day 12 - Rest Day Kinlochbervie

Day 13 - Kinlochbervie - Strathchailleach bothy (14K, 200m ascent)

After a long, cold week I was feeling pretty exhausted, both mentally and physically, so a rest day was well needed. The Kinlochbervie Hotel, although pretty much the only show in town, was comfortable and accommodating. They kindly washed our reeking kit and proper food was more than welcome.

There’s not a great deal to do in Kinlochbervie once you’ve visited the Spar (my wife thought I meant “spa” on the phone and had images of me bobbing in a nice whirlpool of warm water - if only). Determined not to be cold, we picked up a 20kg bag of coal and split about half of it between us, donating the rest to the fire in the cosy bar.

As we set out the next day along the undulating coast road that stretches North from the town, the packs weighed as heavily on us as at any other time on the trek. I tried to keep focused on the fact that we’d be guaranteed a roaring fire when the day was out. As we passed through Oldshoremore, the views of the coastline were simply beautiful, and offered a tantalising foretaste of Sandwood Bay.

It was very cold but bright, with little wind. Perfect conditions we thought until we reached the track at Blairmore. What is normally a great 4x4 track that hurries you towards Sandwood Bay had been turned into a skating rink by successive freeze-thaw cycles. It was now that I started to really regret sending my crampons home from Ullapool.

We made careful progress along the ice, diverting onto the frozen heather when possible, but soon enough we crested the ridge that overlooks Sandwood Bay. In the winter sunshine we were privileged to see Sandwood Loch and the magnificent arc of sand at its finest. Frozen paths made the descent hairy and when we got to the beach itself, we found the sand frozen solid to the wavelike - a definite first for me.

From the bay we could see the Cape Wrath lighthouse in the distance, a tantalising reminder of how close we were now getting. And then came the first mishap of the day. Whilst trying to take an “arty” shot close to the beach, I slipped on the ice and came a real cropper, with the camera taking most of the force of the fall. The faithful Canon had taken its last shot of the trip.

On the map, the few kilometres from Sandwood Bay to Strathchailleach bothy looks very straightforward, but it is deceptive. The outlfow of the loch was crossed relatively easily, but scaling the next steep frozen climb was quite challenging. The bothy itself is a low slung building that sits down in the glen and is hard to see until you’re upon it. The best advice is to find the end of lochan nan sac and then walk a bearing to the bothy. In mist or darkness it can be easily missed and is guarded by a foreboding moat of bogs.

Perhaps fittingly it was inhabited for many years by a hermit called Sandy and when I eventually arrived, some minutes ahead of Bob, I immediately felt the place had more of a soul than other bothies. When Bob came through the door I was shocked to see him bleeding from the mouth - he had slipped on the frozen ground and hit his face - a reminder that even straightforward ground can cause you to come unstuck.

The bothy sits next to one of Scotland’s finest peat beds and, having lugged our coal for many miles, we discovered that we could have happily burned peat for many days to come thanks to the sterling efforts of the local bothy caretaker in keeping supplies up. So once I’d cleaned out the fire grate we got a roaring fire going and warmed our toes. An old copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was also a welcome find. We were warm and the next day was Christmas Day. And we’d finally be at the Cape. Not a bad way to spend Christmas Eve all in all.

Day 11: Achfary - Kinlochbervie (21Km, 200m ascent) Reading the...

Mon, 17 May 2010 18:16:26 +0100

Day 11: Achfary - Kinlochbervie (21Km, 200m ascent)

Reading the last few posts, you could be forgiven for thinking that I wasn’t really enjoying too much of the trip. But I’m not sure enjoyment was ever really the aim. I always knew walking to Cape Wrath in midwinter was going to test me to the very limits and indeed that was one of the main reasons for doing it.

Bob and I had many discussions about the strange rhythms of the long distance trekker. The desire to seek out wilderness and by traversing it, living in it, surviving the worst that nature can dish out, somehow find out something deeper about yourself.

Out there camped on the shoulder of a remote Sutherland hill, the tents buried in four feet of overnight snow, I certainly felt that otherworldliness that I had been searching for. We were walking through the coldest winter in 30 years and surviving. And that felt good.

I somehow managed to force down a couple of flapjacks and pull on my gear and succeeded in pulling down the tent without losing a peg, nearly miraculous with frozen hands in the dark. Choosing the path junction as an overnight stop had been a good call as the deep overnight snow had obscured just about any landmarks apart from the shape of the hills themselves.

We set off into the dark, hacking up hill in knee deep snow on a bearing. This was tough going, but we were rewarded with a stunning sunrise from the shilling at the top of the hill. Undoubtedly one of the most arresting moments of the entire journey. As we wound down hill, Achfary forest looked like Narnia, complete with deer scampering across the path and strange mountain cat like paw prints in the snow.

At Achfary we saw our first fellow human beings for five days and prized open a frozen wheelie bin to deposit a week’s worth of trail trash. As we headed up the main road past Loch Stack, on whose shores we had originally intended to camp, I was already conscious of the time and the rough country we had ahead of us.

By the time we reached Lochstack Lodge, we had to make a decision. In our hearts we both wanted to take the “mountain route” but in our heads I think we both recognised the amount the last few days had taken out of us. Moving through deep, virgin snow with heavy packs is hugely energy sapping and time wasn’t with us.

It was therefore with reluctance that we chose to follow the main road via Laxford Bridge to Rhiconich. A longer route in terms of distance, but a straightforward plod for tired legs. Looking back I do regret not taking the off road route, but it was absolutely the right decision.

That didn’t make the road bound slog to Rhiconich any easier though, the only way to deal with it was to zone out and daydream about tropical beaches and the warm shower that awaited in Kinlochbervie. Although we were inching closer, I was struggling to imagine us ever reaching it. When we eventually reached Rhiconich, the hotel was open, but I think we both felt if we ventured into it’s warm confines, we’d never leave. So we took a bit of food on board and struck off again on the small B Road to Kinlochbervie that hugs the shores of Loch Inchard. The roads were almost fully iced over, not that that seemed to influence the driving style of the locals too much.

About the loch there were a series of straight buoyed lines. I pointed them out to Bob and suggested they were probably swimming lanes. The last few kilometres passed in a bit of a haze as darkness fell and temperatures plummeted. I know we stopped at the legendary London Stores in Inshegra, which must hold the world record for the amount of products packed into one tiny room.

And eventually we came into Kinlochbervie, and found our way to the hotel. Thus ended one of the most challenging week’s walking I’ve had in my life. We were now within striking distance of the Cape and had a rest day to look forward to…

Journal entry, Tuesday 22nd December - “I tried to read the paper today and found I couldn’t care less about all the petty politics that seem so important normally. Here is a much more primal existence. Keep warm. Stay dry.Get to the next place.”

Day 10 Glencoul to Achfary (21K, 600m ascent) I woke after...

Thu, 22 Apr 2010 09:29:00 +0100

Day 10 Glencoul to Achfary (21K, 600m ascent)

I woke after probably the best night’s sleep of the trek so far feeling refreshed, but stiff after yesterday’s exertions. We dallied over breakfast and set off into first light, climbing steeply along the side of Loch Glencoul with majestic views back towards the stunningly located bothy.

The promontory of Aird Da Loch reminded me of the stepped prow of an old battleship, jutting out aggressively into the confluence of Lochs Glencoul and Glendhu. As we contoured round, we lost the track in snow and endured a rough cross country hack until we picked the path up again, winding along icy rock past huge granite boulders to the end of the loch.

Even though it was early, we were both feeling the effects of the previous day and decided to stop for lunch at Glendhu bothy. My thoughts turned again to summer evenings lounging on the grassy shores of the loch watching the sun set over Kylesku. At least our wintry surroundings meant no midges.

It took a supreme effort to raise our aching limbs after lunch and progress was slow, even on a good lochside track. By the time we turned towards Loch an Lauthian Bhuain, I was starting to think that our overnight goal of Achfary was beyond us.

Ascent through knee deep snow alongside the loch was draining and when Bob caught me up it was clear he was thinking the same. We decided to try and push on as far as we could, but by the time I reached the junction with the main path over the top to Achfary, light was fading fast so we decided to pitch next to the track and a small stream.

At least we wouldn’t have any difficulties finding the track in the morning. As I climbed into my poorly snow-pitched tent (looking enviously at Bob’s orange snow pegs) I was already starting to think about the epic day we faced tomorrow. We would have a hot shower at the end of it though.

Journal entry Monday 21st December - “A strange and difficult day. We set off in good spirits after a very sound night’s sleep but I think we were both so focused on the previous day that we underestimated the length and difficulty of today.

As I write another blizzard is hitting the tent. We may have to dig ourselves out in the morning. So, one more big day until hot showers and food. Life goes by in the blink of an eye, but never has 24 hours seemed further away.”

More photos from the trek

Day 9 - Wild camp past Loch Carn nan Chonbhairean to Glencoul...

Mon, 19 Apr 2010 18:27:53 +0100

Pausing for breath

Loch an Eircill

Day 9 - Wild camp past Loch Carn nan Chonbhairean to Glencoul bothy (21K, 600m ascent)

As we’d been pitching the tents the night before, another weather front had started to blow in, so I’d pretty much chucked the tent up and thrown most of my gear into the porch, trying to flatten the snow down as much as possible. Fortunately all of the condensation that had soaked the fly from the previous night had turned to ice and was easily shaken off.

After a warming meal of spaghetti and meatballs, I tried to deny the call of nature for as long as possible, not relishing a squat in a snow drift, but it became inevitable. Looking up, there was one small, clear patch of sky left unclouded through which a huge number of tiny stars glittered onto the snow fields. The wind was buffeting me so I yanked up my Paramo salopettes and dived back into my tent, pulling off my boots and leaving them in the porch.

I was awake at 6am having had a pretty fitful night’s sleep. It had been cold and the tent had been buffeted all night by strong winds. I never doubted the resilience of the Hilleberg Akto, but it does keep you in a constant state of half sleep. The process of getting ready seemed even slower this morning and I had barely any appetite despite the exertions of yesterday. I forced down a couple of cereal bars and went to get my boots on.

Opening the door to the porch, all I could see was a big pile of snow that had drifted under the fly in the night and covered all my kit including my boots which were now frozen rigid. I shouted across to Bob who had his leather boots atop his MSR, not something I fancied trying with technical fabric and a Jetboil! I really couldn’t see a way I was going to get the boots on. I got my feet half into them and started to slop around hoping the exertion of taking the tent down would thaw them - it didn’t. In the end it took a super human struggle with Bob standing on the end of them to wrench my feet into the boots. Big lesson learned and at least we were warm as we struck of into a growing blizzard.

The path ahead was mostly obscured by snow. We’d pick it up in places and then lose it again. Mostly we walked on a series of bearings, our only reference in the otherwise completely featureless surroundings of Ben More. Going was slow and tiring in deep snow drifts and by the time we reached the frozen shore of Gorm Loch Mor we were both already tired.

At this point we lost whatever ghost of a path we’d had to date and skirted the shores of the loch, looking for a suitable crossing point. It was tempting to try and head across the ice and save ourselves the rough lochside hack. By this stage my Platypus had frozen again and I was starting to get pretty dehydrated. I clipped my mug to the front strap of my rucksack and resorted to drinking from whatever water source I came across.

A steepish climb straight up through waist deep snow to the col below Cnoc an Fhuarain Bhain and a fun lollop down the other side brought us to the track at the end of Loch an Eircill. It was only here that I began to relax. The area we had just crossed was about as remote as the trail gets and we had done it in challenging conditions. Wind chill had been extreme at times and navigation tricky. If one of us had injured ourselves, it would have been a serious situation.

But we were both now exhausted by our exertions in the deep snow and it was a case of putting one foot in front of the other as we wound down the glen towards the sea. I put on a bit of a spurt, reasoning that I could look for some driftwood and try and get a fire going at the bothy. As darkness fell on the glen I stared up at the ice encrusted cliffs and felt awed by their age and majesty. A thunderstorm hovered in the distance, bathing the glen occasionally in a strange purplish lightning.

It was a relief to reach the bothy, sited in a magnificent location at the head of Loch Glencoul. And to my immense excitement I noticed a big pile of coal and firewood in the corner. By the time Bob arrived, I had a fire crackling in the grate and my boots were releasing a steady dribble of ice water onto the hearth. As we ate, we both reflected on what we agreed had been one of the most challenging days either of us had experienced in the mountains. This was why we had decided to do the trail in winter. To test ourselves against the conditions that we were now starting to experience. But we still had a long way to go and the forecast was for more snow. Lots more snow.

Journal entry for Sunday 20 December - “Best mountain day ever? We were on the edge with no margin for error whatsoever, but it was fantastic, one of the most challenging mountain days ever. Tired and warm now, a good combination. Just two days now until we reach Kinlochbervie.”

Day 8 - Oykel Bridge to Loch Carn nan Chonbhairean (18k, 400m...

Sun, 11 Apr 2010 17:22:00 +0100

Track by Loch Ailsh

Ascending from Benmore Lodge

Day 8 - Oykel Bridge to Loch Carn nan Chonbhairean (18k, 400m ascent)

Although I knew this was the day that worsening weather was forecast to start sweping in, I was still in a slight state of denial. That stopped when I woke to the sound of rain lashing the tent. I hurried down my usual breakfast of a few nutri grain bars, some nuts and a coffee, before the rigmarole of pulling my kit on and readying myself for the day ahead. By this stage I was pretty much sleeping and walking in the same gear, so it didn’t take too long before I was out in driving sleet throwing the tent down.

I usually try and take a bit of care when packing up the tent, so when it’s next needed it isn’t a tangled nightmare, but it was just too cold with a stiffening Northerly wind. We must have been packed and away from our campsite in under half an hour - a record. The sleet intensified as we headed up the track that followed the River Oykel and when we reached the ruin at Salachy (easy to miss) it had turned into thick, wet snow.

The path up from Salachy was rough and steep and evidently not well trodden. OS maps show a more circuitous loch side path which may well be a better option. I was drenched inside and out by the time I reached the main track that would take us up through the woods towards Glenmore Lodge. At least the woods offered us a degree of protection from the wind, but as we left them to join the loch side track by Loch Ailsh, it really bit into us, the wind chill was quite severe.

Eventually we reached the dwellings around Glenmore lodge and were greeted by enthusiastic dogs, evidently undeterred by the cold. We continued up to the lodge itself (shut up tight for winter), hoping to find some shelter for a short break. But there seemed to be nowhere to escape from the wind and in the end we dumped our packs on a bench and stared longingly into the conservatory. I visualised balmy summer evenings with groups of friends sat drinking wine and staring at a sunset over the loch. Back in the present I had the more pressing concern that my Platypus water bladder had frozen solid along with my energy bars. I sucked on an energy gel hoping it would give me a bit of sustenance and hydration. It was so cold we were only able to stop for a matter of minutes.

As we struck off from the lodge I was having a real mental battle. The conditions were pretty severe and I knew we had three days across the remote expanses of Assynt to get through. But as we left the Glen Oykel forest and would up onto the outer aprons of Glen More, the storm lifted and the sun even came out, casting it’s rays over the now completely snowbound landscape. This lifted my spirits hugely, and somehow taking on the Cape Wrath Trail in midwinter didn’t seem such a daft idea after all. We were alone to enjoy and survive in this utterly majestic landscape.

Our spirits were so high in fact that we pushed on several extra kilometres from our planned camping point, reasoning that with the weather set to worsen, it made sense to try and reduce the distance of the following day. In the end we found a small plateau by a babbling ghyll to pitch the Akto’s side by side, like two bulbous green cucumbers nestled in the virgin snow.

Day 7 - Knockdamph Bothy - Glen Oykel (20k) Another day when if...

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 09:55:02 +0100

Day 7 - Knockdamph Bothy - Glen Oykel (20k)

Another day when if you had the inclination you could run it. After an extremely cold night in the bothy, we were sluggish to start, but with good tracks all the way, we soon started to make good progress along well defined forest tracks.

After the wilds leading to Shenavall, this wasn’t the most inspiring walking, but we revelled in the peaceful weather, making the most of the benign conditions. A weak, milky sun bathed us as we wound down into Oykel Bridge. I think we were both hoping that the remote hotel there might be open and welcome us with a warm cup of tea, but as with so many places in this part of the world in winter it was shut up tight.

We were left to wind our way up Glen Oykel, looking for somewhere to camp for the night, the first time we’d used our tents in anger. When I’d planned the route I’d tried to factor in as many bothies as possible as insurance against terrible rain and windy conditions which it is reasonable to expect at any time of year in NW Scotland. However, it was becoming apparent that unless you can get a fire going, in very cold weather you’re better off in a tent.

I certainly felt more comfortable that night as we pitched in an idyllic spot right on the banks of the river Oykel. It felt like the cocoon of the tent trapped more warmth and I probably had the best night’s sleep of the trek so far. In retrospect, I was going to need it.

Day 6 - Ullapool - Knockdamph Bothy (19k, 300m ascent) Someone...

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 09:37:00 +0100

Knockdamph Bothy

Map 1

Map 2

Day 6 - Ullapool - Knockdamph Bothy (19k, 300m ascent)

Someone recently asked me on Twitter whether it would be possible to run the Cape Wrath Trail. My answer was that you could probably run some of it if you were so inclined, and this would be a day when that was possible. The route starts out from the back of the Ullapool conurbation and continues past an ugly quarry (another reason for missing out Ullapool unless you absolutely need to re-supply there).

It is only after an hour or so of walking that you start to leave the worst of civilisation behind, but this is a day when reminders of humanity are always close at hand. View are superb as the 4x4 track that stays with you most of the day winds down and past Loch Achall, taking you past several gloriously sited houses. The little house at Cadubh, in particular is close to my idea of a perfect place to live.

There are no challenges with route finding today, and in foul whether this route would doubtless seem a bit of a miserable slog. But we were lucky with bright cold weather and as we approached Knockdamph Bothy found we had made excellent progress and were there for about 2.30pm.

It was clear we were in for another very cold night, so Bob was keen to try to forage some firewood. After our experience at Leckie bothy in Kinlochewe where we had almost kippered ourselves trying to burn damp wood, I wasn’t so keen. Bob, however, was undeterred and taking his life in his hands scaling the sides of a gully came back with a reasonable bundle which we supplemented with some heather.

In the end we managed to get a small fire going, which as the darkness fell and the temperatures plummeted lifted our spirits. We were in our sleeping bags not long after six, the only way to stay warm. As I listened to a Radio 4 podcast on my iPhone, my mind kept flicking forward to our stretch across Assynt and the blizzards we knew were coming.