It looked like a black ghost flying at me with superhuman-speed, quite terrifying. I lay in my tent, doors open, looking at the nightsky in hypnagogia. It made no sound as it approached me, but yet had me wide awake from slumber. I want to say "whooosh" when I describe how it flew over my tent, but it whoooshed not. Silence. When it circled my tent, as if it was investigating me for the tresspasser in it's territory that I was, before it flew of again, I recognized the owl for what it was and I felt a deep sense of hapiness. As the owl flew out of eyesight, a shooting star shot across the sky, and I knew this holiday wouldn't and couldn't go wrong.

Hours before I had parked my car in Strathan, looked at the sunny sky and thought: "Well, that sun won't last a holiday". While crossing the bealach between Strathan and Glen Kingie I only had questions. Like: "why am I here for the second time in my life, knowing that the route is way harder than the map reveals, and yet being surprised by how hard going it is?" And: "why am I here for the second time in my life, knowing I had some issues navigating last time, and yet having the same issues again?"







The bothy is empty. My tent is stood next to the river Kingie, on a surprisingly flat and dry piece of grass. The deep sense of hapiness brings me back to a state of slumber again, and as I awake next morning in the sun's first attempts to turn morningdew into a field of diamonds, none of the hapiness has subsided. I am in Scotland again! And the initial foul weather that prevented me from undertaking the same trek through Knoydart last year, has not shown it's face since I drove my car of the IJmuiden-Newcastle ferry yesterdaymorning.









Coffee. Breakfast. Skinny-dip. Shiver. Dry. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave no trace. Of to first summit. The bealach between Sgurr Beach and An Eag has some nice little lochans, whose "shores" were my initial first-night-campspot-goal, were it not for me being to tired the day before. Interestingly enough, there was frogspawn in these lochans, which at 650 m somehow seemed bizarre to me, this early in spring. I am no frog-expert though, so this might be quite a normal thing.









Crossing An Eag, there were still some patches of snow here and there, but nothing I couldn't avoid or negotiate. Sgurr nan Coireachan's higher flanks and summit from here looked to be completely snowcovered though. The ridge towards it has great views on either side, and after initially being (disproportionately) tired from the elevationgain from Glen Kingie to An Eag, the going now was quite straight forward. It put a spring in my step, and before I knew it I reached Sgurr nan Coireachan's summit, where I see the first person since I left my car the day before.









From here, I couldn't help looking at Sgurr na Ciche and not be intimidated by it. Well, at least intimidated by the knowledge that I'd have to descend quite a lot and climb a lot as well again. Over quite some distance. However, and I'll not be the first to say this, but wow, Sgurr na Ciche is a very appealing mountain. I cannot just leave it there. Besides, my intended route goes over Sgurr na Ciche, onto the long ridge that connects it with Ben Aden. The descend from Sgurr nan Coireachan is steep, especially with a backpack containing all you need for a week. I am happy to arrive at the bealach between Coireachan and Ciche, where it's time for a snack and a breather. Red from sunburn by now and sweating more than can be evaporated by a coalition of bodyheat, sunshine and wind, I must have looked awfully tired, as a fellow hiker asked me if I was allright in quite a concerned manner. I don't know if my humorously meant answer took all his worries away, but at least he understood I was not dying.











From the summit of Sgurr na Ciche the "road" to Ben Aden looks long but easy. Exactly as easy as anything looks from above and far away. So tired but full of positive energy I set off in north-easterly direction, towards Meall nan Clag Eiteag. Big surprise: the terrain is not quite as smooth as it seemed from a distance. I tried to stay close to the drystone wall that has been built along this ridge, with the logic that those who once built this wall must have been looking for the easiest way down as well. Well, I don't know them, I can't speak for them, but it seemed they were not. In retroperspective I don't think the terrain was that bad at all. But with quite some ascend and descend behind me it was energy draining. And as the way forward seemed quite long, I decided to bend to the right and descend into Coire nan Gall, where I try to find a proper campingspot along the Allt coire nan Gall.







Everydays has it's next day. No owls and shooting stars this night, but a beautiful starlit night nonetheless and again a pretty good sleep. Why is it that I sleep so much better in a tent on a sleepingpad than at home in a bed? Descending the Coire towards Loch Quioch had me stumble upon a vague 4x4 track (?) or at least a stalker's quad track, which made the going towards the Loch easy. Easy enough to make me turn right once I reached Loch Quioch, instead of the planned left. Just to get views of the Loch and the mountains I "bagged" the day before. A pleasant detour with great views.











Detour done. Great. Now of to Locham nam Breac and endgoal Barrisdale Bay. Locham nam Breac seemed beautiful to me, but I was slightly apprehensive for the "CWT crowds" I'd meet once my planned route meets de CWT track. Don't get ahead of things now Jacob: you're not there yet, you planned part of your route along the CWt yourself, there won't be thousands of hikers, and you're free to go wherever. Enjoy you silly worrier. The original plan had been to summit Ben Aden from Sgurr na Ciche. Plan B was to summit Ben Aden from Lochan nam Breac. I didn't. I felt to tired from the day before and headed for Barrisdale Bay.

















When I arrived in Barrisdale Bay I thought I knew two things for a fact: it was only 2 PM and the next day would be tipping day weatherwise. This made me decide to drop all excess weight from my bag in the "bothy" at Barrisdale: tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, food and cooking utensils, and make my way up Ladhar Bheinn, hoping to at least bag that bad boy this holiday. An almost empty backpack felt great on the horizontal path along the bay. It felt like heavier than empty though, from the moment I had to ascend to get to the summit. Determined to see the summit of a mountain that appeared somewhat magic to me, I plodded on to reach Coire Dhorrcail. I wasn't too tired, but enough to be confused with the map versus reality check, not being able to distinguish a path across the Allt Coire Dhorrcail, and I sat down to just enjoy the views. I accepted not bagging this summit and felt strangely satisfied with this decision. When the sun retreated behind the mountain's walls, I retraced my steps towards the "bothy" and set up my tent on the campsite's fields. Some 10 CWT walkers passed by, none of them but one stayed for longer than a chat. I spent the night all alone in the campsite, as the CWT hiker spent his night in the "bothy", not counting in the pet-stag that made this campsite it's home.











Another perfect night had me wake up to another perfect morning. Was this weather-tipping day? De pet-stag was peacefully grazing, the sun was out and the mountains had a fresh dusting of snow. I couldn't believe it, and the day that followed proved me right. Not a drop of rain, no ominous clouds and no weather-pandemonium. I set off to walk the CWT in the opposite direction towards Sourlies. This would mean partly retracing my steps until Carn Mor and heading towards Loch Nevis, following river Carnach. At the foot of Carn Mor I saw another great opportunity for a quick, cold skinny-dip. A very refreshed lunch gave me the energy to move on. This river passes some real gems, lovely spring forests, views on Sgurr na Ciche and waterfalls. I can understand why it's part of the CWT. When almost at Sourlies a young Scottish man working in the Glen started chatting to me and offered me to give me a lift on his quad across the river to avoid the detour the original path takes. Although I didn't need it and didn't know what the terrain on the other side would be like, I accepted his offer: I had never been on a quadbike, and crossing the river on one of them seemed like an adventure. The several hundreds metres that I needed to negotiate to get to Sourlies were indeed boggy and I confused some hikers that were intending to follow the original path. A quick chat with one of them, a Belgium man whom I could speak Dutch to, explained my behaviour and choice and set on the right path again.











After having reached Sourlies I set up my tent and enjoyed the excellent company, two of whom I'd partly spend the next day with. They were two men in their early seventies I believe, who had spent two nights in the bothy, not knowing how crowded it could be due to the CWT and unpleasantly surprised by it. Their superb cooking with fresh ingredients, 5 different cheeses and fresh found mussels filled the bothy's air with smells that made the rest of us stare down their pouch of freezedried meals in shame. Not one course, it's three courses they made. Incredible the ingredients that came from their backpacks. One of them lives in Dunvegan and he wrote me down the name of the blog he writes. "Can you read that?", he asked. "Yes I can", I lied, thinking that google would help me enough with the words I thought I could make out: "chapels, Satures or Saturnus". No such luck. Apparantly it is a blog aiming to increase the interest of the youth in the outdoors. So if anyone of you knows which blog I mean, please write it down in the comments.
The next day I returned to my car. After 4 days of sun and only some nightly precipitation, rain and hail came down on me on this fifth day a few minutes before I reached my car. I still had some days of holilday left, that I spent buying the obligatory souvenirs for loved ones, making short walks through woodland along a river from a campsite, wildcamping a single night and finishing of in a hostel to at least have a shower before taking the ferry again.



I can't wait to get back to Scotland again. I hope the link to the map below works. Please don't take the exact gpx serious: the map was drawn to get an idea of my route, not to guide you through foul weather and low visibility.

https://explore.osmaps.com/route/21427231/knoydart-24?lat=57.033827&lon=-5.509688&zoom=10.7694&style=Standard&type=2d