free to be able to rate and comment on reports (as well as access 1:25000 mapping).
I could have stayed on the sofa watching a nice movie, pour a nice glass of wine, indulge on another risk-free weekend and simply say to myself “Next weekend I’ll do something different, there’s always next weekend”… or I could simply pack the bags and do something different right then, something out of my comfort zone… something ‘Epic’. Of course, proving my husband that he was wrong when he said I could not do it and that I would not survive on my own had nothing to do with it. Maybe I should have listened to him… or maybe not! It will always be open for debate, but I definitely feel better for it, maybe not physically as now I sit here having my breakfast at Coylumbridge Hotel as I could not drive last night with pure exhaustion; but emotionally, well, that’s a completely different matter… I feel reborn.
DAY 1 – Rothiemurchus to Corrour Bothy
Distance: 22.37 km
Elevation gain: 740 m
Moving time: 5 h 56 minsAfter a long debate on which backpack to take, given I’m only 5ft5in (1.65m) and not used to carry too much weight on my back, I opted for my 55 litre Osprey Ariel with anti-gravity (AG) system. Although slightly bigger and heavier than the one I had first intended to take as I feared the height of the backpack above my head would constantly unbalance me every time I moved, which would be draining me further, it was definitely the right choice. It not just minimised the constant strain on my back caused by the unfamiliar weight, which was probably due to its AG system, it also did not bob every time I moved. It was just perfect where backpacks are concerned, with just the right number of pockets and straps to keep everything in place. Journey into the unknown, here I come… let’s just see how many miles before turning back or having to call the mountain rescue to come and save me from something silly an unexperienced adventurer was bound to do.
I parked on the side of the road at the Reindeer Centre and headed off towards Loch Morlich. It was a crispy morning, with the sun shining and the signs of a frosty night still lingering on the leaves and not a breath of wind. The Loch was in its mirror-like state, reflecting the exact contours of the mountain and clouds… pure perfection. While walking around the loch waters, I had to do a slight detour to my planed path given a few bogs encountered; that should have given me a warning sign of what I was to endure over the next 3 days but, as a rookie, I was just oblivious to all the signs.
In the same way John Muir once said
“The mountains are calling, and I must go” so did Lairig Ghru do to me. Every time I looked at that landscape, I had this feeling I wanted to venture into it and discover what lied beyond those first hills resembling inviting doors. After reading Jaxter’s post
https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/Forum/viewtopic.php?p=375434#p375434 I was inspired and determined to do that route.
The ascent up to the mouth of Lairig Ghru was eventless, with me enjoying the freedom of the outdoors and even being able to take advantage of 4G and make some special people jealous, and still be very girly and faffing with how many layers I had on, or if this layer was better than the next one. Little I knew all that soon was to end…
Met a few people on the way up, casually chatted maintaining the COVID-safety distance of course, and always with a true smile on my face. Most of the people I encountered were coming the Braemar-Aviemore direction and commented on the gorgeous and warm day for November, with all the golden colours of autumn, and how amazing it looked now the sun was setting at the top… ohhhh, another warning sign, the light is fading better move on, but instead I decided to enjoy the remains of the day taking photos. Could not believe a couple of days ago Lairig Ghru was covered with the first snow of the season…
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This photo was taken just after 2 pm and, although I knew days were getting shorter and given the height of the mountains it would be darker a bit earlier than the usual 4.30 pm sunset, I thought the 10 km still remaining would be doable at the same speed if not faster given that after the top of Lairig Ghru I would start my descent to the bothy. Least did I know that my perfectly made path was about to end, and that I would be crawling over boulders forever and ever, not a soul on view, and without the reassurance I was following the right path apart from little man-made cairns to guide me to the other side. Although an experienced walker would probably advise me to just aim at where I want to go and devise a path to get there me, as a wannabe adventurer, got too used to the well-walked path enjoyed so far and thought it would continue all the way to the bothy given Lairig Ghru is such a well-known route.
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Nevertheless, my spanking new Scarpa boots were much more comfortable than I initially thought they would be, and their hard-unforgiving soles, combined with my hands on the ground and all the balance I could muster, were the only weapons I had against that endless boulder field. It was at this moment, that my attention started to get drawn to the rubbing at the back of my right foot… you probably ask why would I go on such adventure wearing new boots? Well, that would be another story on its own, but least to say I got to Aviemore the previous day and realised my fairly used and comfortable walking boots were still in Cruden Bay. Oops, a good excuse to go shopping and get those Scarpa’s I so much wanted. Of course someone with a sensible mind would give up of the walk all together, and head home... but I definitely do not have a sensible mind when it comes to a new challenge, so it was not going to happen, as I was not about to waste the gorgeous weather and the opportunity to do it.
It was dusk by the time I managed to get to the Pools of Dee, and the magic of that moment deserved some more picture taking time, although at a more fast-forward speed than I had indulged-in so far as I was starting to be aware I was running out of ‘light time’. It was then I realised I was silenced to the world, and no more contact with the outside… just stillness and big skies. In a world that is in constant movement, with too much noise and busy lives, where people forgot how to survive without technology, and definitely do not pay attention to what surrounds them anymore, there was only silence, strange welcomed silence… and no movement from the mountains for sure, not even the wind dared to move on that day.
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At a faster pace now, hopped along the path going down towards the bothy, my resting area for the day, to find out the little blue lines on the map representing water lines had a bit more water than I had envisioned, and crossing it required a bit more acrobatic skills than I had planned on for the first day of adventure; specifically when it required the manoeuvring of a big backpack attached to your back… I’m sure a turtle or snail would appear more composed than did at that stage, in particular when I realised the steppingstones under my feet were not the most stable.
It definitely got to a new ‘out of my depth’ level when I saw the path I was supposed to follow at a fast pace. Although there was definitely a visible path this time, it was covered in rocks or/and water. Now I was realising how precious daylight hours are and, whichever I chose to put my feet in, it was not a path that would allow me to move fast, especially with the temperatures dropping fast and ice forming given the clear skies.
At this moment I was moving as fast as I could, scuttling over stones in the dark, with my left ankle telling me I must have twisted it the unnatural way (bent it the way ankles are not supposed to be bent) and it was going to swell and the pain was starting to be felt. And then it simply got even darker… what did I get myself into?
On my mind were thoughts of still having to pitch the new tent I had got a few days earlier given the change in the weather for the worse (luckily I had had time to test it in the back garden) and also filtering some fresh water to have plenty for preparing dinner and for the night. Finally, after a couple of hours, I could see a welcoming light coming from the Corrour bothy telling someone was all cozed up inside enjoying a nice fire; those were not my plans and, although I went in just to say hello, given the restrictions rules I was not going to share the cosiness. Besides, I had gone through the effort of doing my research and picking a nice snug tent and carrying it all the way, preparing for this moment all week, so I was definitely going to test it in the wild. As a final resting place, I managed to find a less uneven bit of ground and pitched the MSR Access 1 tent. All set, let’s go back to the river I had just crossed to get some water… ouch, suddenly all the body pains you’ve been ignoring during the day given the unfamiliar weight on your back, supported by your hips and shoulders, plus your feet walking in unbroken shoes, come crashing down and you have to drag yourself to the water just because of pure necessity and that your life may depend on it for some unfathomed reason. When you plan things at home, you do not envision your fingers getting so cold you cannot even submerge the plastic container of the Sawyer mini water filtration kit in the water… I could not believe I was staring at the water, definitely wanted to drink some, and couldn’t because my hands were so cold that holding the container seemed impossible. It is at this point you tell your brain ‘forget the pain, just do it’!
It is always good to prepare for what you are about to do, the more when it’s something unfamiliar to you and, although I love the outdoors and go camping as a family as much as I can, I don’t have much experience of camping away from everything with the cold being my worse fear. Theoretically, I had done my homework in terms of advice from more experienced people, checked what I should do in case of extreme cold conditions (at least too cold for my comfort zone) even in the case of snow falling as had happened two days ago, so going to bed without a warm meal even if I was not hungry was definitely not going to happen. Pot Noodle was on the menu. As I was cooking, I could see the ice crystals forming on the tent… I was in for a freezing night for sure, although the weather forecast had said it would be around 5 degrees Celsius, so very glad I was prepared for worse and added in my new Sea to Summit fleece liner which suddenly became one of my favourite pieces of kit.
I was now finally at the end of my first day of adventure and could already feel refreshed, with a new inflow of adrenaline pumping through my veins, so much so, I could not fall asleep for a while. Deep down I had that sense of achievement I had finally got out, and even if I had to go back home now, I knew I would be capable of doing it again… but I was definitely not going back just yet.
DAY 2 – Corrour Bothy to Hutchinson Bothy
Distance: 16.89 km
Elevation gain: 461 m
Moving time: 4 h 16 minJohn Lubbock once said,
“Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than we can ever learn from books”. I always felt nature inspired me and although giving me a feeling of peace, it also instilled a sense of adventure and wanting to go in search of the unknown. Despite spending all my holidays as early as I can remember, scrambling up the hills and rolling on mud, I never went wild camping at the back of nowhere, where everything can and many times does go wrong, so I’m definitely happy to learn a few skills by being on the track. Bring it on…
Waking up in a room with a view like this, there are definitely worse things I can think of, even the cold fresh air was welcomed, it would not feel right otherwise. But a day does not start until I get my coffee-fix so MSR stove do your wonders as quick as you can; soon I had a nice cup of coffee warming up my hands and a smile on my face, and could start taking in the views I had missed out last night.
Soon I realised I had pitched up the tent at the bottom of the path that goes to Devil’s Point, one of the predicaments that goes with setting up camp in the dark, so note taken to aim at doing it next time while there was still daylight.
For breakfast I had a nice bowl of porridge with syrup, walnuts and cinnamon to boost my energy for the day, packed the tent and stocked up for water, but this time improving on my skills using the cup to fill in the container to filter the water, and hands not so cold as a result. Also found a burn running above the bothy which involved less travelling and suited the health and safety advice on drinking water around a bothy.
Definitely, could not go away without a nosy around the bothy interior, now that the previous guests had left. Corrour bothy is very idyllic looking in the heart of the glen and definitely small, comprising a platform that would fit 2 people, plus 2 at the bottom and another one on the bench; on a busy day, probably 3 more on the floor. But that was before COVID; now it is simply one household if we follow the guidelines. On the plus side, this bothy had a clean toilet as toilets go in bothies.
All packed and back on the track, I crossed a bridge that did not inspire confidence being bound with a blue piece of string… but at least existed. Feeling every single sore muscle in my body too well, I trodded down the path towards Derry Lodge.
On the way met a couple of nice gentlemen that were heading the opposite way, towards the Corrour bothy looking for something they had left behind; after some chitchat, and looking a bit taken aback I was doing the long way to Hutchinson bothy, we all went our own ways. I was chuffed with myself for finally doing this trip, so tried to take everything in… not even the skies clouding over and starting to spit was going to spoil my mood; I was in my full glory!
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And that is when I started getting in a mood, not a nice one at that. Got to the river, thinking that once again I was just going to be a monkey in a circus, hoping from stone to stone to get to the other side… ahhhhh, so much water. No matter how much I tried to plan my route across, I could not find one that did not involve getting wet; and on the other bank, a dry path waiting for me. I felt lost instantly, with a feeling of failure and that I would have to go back… I was not going to give up! Crawled up the river, over the boggy and slippery terrain, in the hope of finding a better spot to cross; now the rain was getting heavier, which did not help, and I was seriously getting muddy as I had not put the gaiters on. Looked at the map again and could just see another path that did a small detour up the river, but given I was already covered in bog and had already climbed up the bank along the river, I was not about to go back down to climb it again over another path, so just kept going through the slippery mess until I found a nice bridge to cross.
Wet, muddy and seriously grumpy, I stopped very close to where I had intended to cross the river and put my waterproofs on and my gaiters, and a nice cushioned plaster as the rubbing of my boot was getting to me… that is when I saw the same two gentlemen I had met before, now passing me. One could have thought they were travelling at a fast pace, as they were definitely well behind me, but I am a fast walker and they were simply travelling at a leisure pace. That was definitely odd, so off I went in search of the truth… it so happens they were the keepers of some of the bothies around the area and they have travelled that route so many times, they now know exactly where to cross the river and which stones to put your feet in. They shared some of their precious experience, and also some more laughable memories.
Notes taken from my new teachers:
1) These rocks are not as slippery as I think
2) I can put my foot in a couple of inches of water and my feet won’t get wet
3) Although you should avoid it, you will not be the first person to fall in a river with a big backpack on
In the end I was happy again as I had met extraordinary men, that not only shared their vast knowledge with me, but also advised me to follow a different path than I was about to do after Derry Lodge, and probably saved me from definitely falling in the water this time as the Derry Dam bridge was fenced off at the end of my path; it would be easy to get over it if you were travel with a companion or if you had a small backpack, but definitely not in my case.
This part of my journey was a bit more boring as the low cloud had set in, drizzling, making me hide my head inside the hood without much visibility; for a long period, this ends up draining your soul. Of course, you can always find interesting things on the way, and beauty is in the eyes of the beholder… it just depends how you look at it. For me, this tree was beautiful…
“In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful” – Alice Walker
Getting drained with the never-ending flats and the light fading given the low cloud, in concert with the constant challenge of choosing where you place your feet to avoid your face on the ground, you end up getting closer to where you want to be. Here we go, one more bridge, although at this point I was feeling I could just fall in and would not make much difference to my already existing drained mood.
However, for this night, I did not have my mind set on a destination apart from wanting it to be between Hutchinson bothy and the western shores of Loch Avon, preferably the latter. Five kilometres between me and my final destination for the day, still around 3 pm… doable! And then you see the ground changing from considerably flat to simply this climb that, although not horrendously steep, you feel drained of strength and feel your legs just want to rest; but no rest, as I was afraid of running out of daylight hours.
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As you get closer to the mountains, you start to climb, but you also get closer to that immense cloud that has been looming there all day. I was dreading the path ahead and how long it would last for; but suddenly, almost like out of nowhere, there was this so inviting bothy staring back at you. Let’s pick up the pace as I’m closer, just stop now to get some water, and soon I can have a nosy around although I will probably continue my journey to my camping spot nearer to the Loch. Backpack finally off, free to move better while filtering some fresh water, and the filter bag bursts; the more I squished the more it squirted, and the more soaked I got.
Unnecessary to say that I went in the bothy to have a look, got my hand trapped on the heavy lock and could have screamed with the pain of it, hands frozen and jammed between two big bits of metal… however, the bothy was empty and so welcoming… I kept debating with myself if I should put on the extra 2 miles and camp out in my wonderful tent or if I should just take advantage of this offering that was the empty bothy… one look outside and the choice was made. The low cloud that had been there all day, suddenly took over and you would struggle to see 5 meters ahead of you; to make matters worse, the proper rain set in. The decision was made… destiny had made it for me; least did I know it was for the better.
Glad I had that tiny little log in the backpack… never did a freeze-dried packed dinner taste so good: chicken Tikka with rice was on the menu. I was asleep by 6 pm.
DAY 3 – Hutchinson Bothy to Rothiemurchus
Distance: 24.21 km
Elevation gain: 722 m
Moving time: 6 h 41 min“The farther one gets into the wilderness, the greater is the attraction of its lonely freedom” _ Theodore Roosevelt
Hummm, I felt I was pretty well away from everything now, and definitely lonely as I hadn’t even seen any stags roaming the wild…
The morning was mystical, with the fog suddenly clinging to your body and as quick leaving you feeling naked. With the bothy emerging from behind the mist, I could now take photos of its splendour.
I started the climb without seeing that far ahead…
As soon as the fog started lifting, that is when I finally realised what had been in store for me if I had not decided to play safe and stay at the bothy. In front of me there was this never-ending climb, maybe not as big was one might think from what I am describing, but definitely one I would not want to do last night or even today, for that matter.
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Moaning to myself all the way up, once I reached the top I was completely silenced with the views. Glad I had not come the previous night, or I would have missed the magic of that moment. I was speechless! I grabbed the camera, and all I could do was taking photographs but at the same time taking everything in as did not want to waste the moment behind the lenses as many people end up doing, and then some more photos; I simply could not have enough of it. It’s one of those moments you know no matter how many photos you are going to take, you will not capture the emotion of the moment. The clouds were like a constantly moving blanket of fluffiness enfolding the mountains. You could feel it all around you, and then it was gone; one moment you see it, the next you do not. They were moving fast which made the continuous shooting in order to produce a panoramic photo with my bigger camera, look sectioned; I couldn’t believe that what was supposed to be my best photo came looked patchy once you looked up closer, all due to the fast moving clouds.
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And once you finally spot Loch Avon, hiding at the bottom of all depths, and the descent that is involved to get to its shores, it is when you realise you were very lucky not to have ventured out last night… it would have been miserable and pitch black before I would know it, not to speak of all the scampering I would have to do at the top where Loch Etchachan rests and I took all those photos, crossing full burns, without any visibility and all to end in a massive descent to sure death. All the way down was now just on the limit of my ‘leg-step’ abilities, and on many an occasion I had to sit my backside and slide down. Definitely not one to be done in poor visibility or weather conditions.
The photos cannot begin to give an idea of how imposing these giants are, standing there for millennia since the beginning of life as we know it, judging you if you should descend graciously (or as best as you are able) or simply tumble and fall.
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Where every next giant boulder is bigger than the previous one, of course it comes to no surprise, that I was walking around trying to identify the ‘Shelter Stone’ and, while all of them looked too impressive, I didn’t have a clue which one was the culprit and still not reassured I would put my body under any of them without the right type of coercion, like a massive storm for that matter that would threaten my existence otherwise. Later, when I had already given up my search for such a marker, I came across a gentleman, like it was the most normal thing to happen on such a desolate place… I definitely got startled as I hadn’t yet come across anyone at that part of the world, and just did not scream as I’m not the type, given he just popped out from behind this massive stone wearing a Glengarry bonnet. He told me then that it was the ‘Shelter Stone’ and he was intending to spend the night in there, pointing at a deep cavity under the stone. While at a different time of the year I would not have been surprised to find other people roaming these parts of the world, where everything seems so alien, we were now in November when days are shorter and the wind sips up the heat out of your body without asking for permission and not taking ‘NO’ for an answer, on a weekday of a very misty morning. It was definitely not something I was expecting as I had not even noticed any movement on the opposite shore when I was descending into the eerie glen. Once again, when I told where I was heading, he got surprised I was doing such a long distance and going all the way around Loch Avon… was I doing something wrong? Why did everyone seemed so surprised every time I said what I was doing? Did I look that unfit? Or is it weird a woman in her mid 40s, roaming the Scottish wilderness, on her own, with a massive backpack on her back and covered in mud? Didn’t dare to ask as I probably would not like the answer, as all the plausible answers did not endorse me in possession of
compos mentis or, to put it in other words, I was definitely having a middle age crisis. But I’m sure John Muir would have come to my defence with
“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt”. I was very dirty, no doubt about that!
This is the point where everything started going wrong… you know you are on your last day, the days are getting very short and you have to make up for the distance you did not do the previous day, on top of the already crazy distance you had set up for yourself for that day as you thought you could do it at a much faster pace given there was plenty of descents and flats. One more stream to cross… where should I cross it, it seems pretty strong and fast. No matter how much I tried to plan it and avoid over stretching my little legs… splash! Not too bad, could have been much worse had it been not the teachings of the bothy keepers. The boots were very good indeed and withstood more than just a few inches of water, keeping my feet dry, and the rocks were not slippery as promised, otherwise the outcome could have been much worse. I had to make compromises, so chose to let the water go over me rather than completely falling in while attempting too big a jump, definitely landing in the water and with the risk of breaking a leg if not worse; in case things had gone bad, everything was completely well stored in dry bags.
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I was finally on the north side of the Loch, and from now on it should be straightforward, without any delays or crazy river crossings. No crazy river crossing, but definitely not straightforward… it was actually the worst part of the entire journey. When I had looked from the top of Loch Avon, I could see a completely defined path on the shore, which had given me some reassurance on my chosen route; now I wonder if it had been easier to do it from the south side and walk a little further to cross the river on the east side, but given what I experienced for the rest of the day, I don’t think there was any way to avoid the hell it would turn out to be; you would either end up being stuck in bogs, boulders or lots of uncrossable water. My hell was lots of boulders and bogs, and plenty of water, enough to make me climb all the way to Strath Nethy Glen in hope of avoiding all of it, and still with no success. I was literally a dancing monkey, balancing my weight over the boulders, constantly having to lift my weight plus backpack and pushing myself forward; the constant effort was draining all my energy; when not the boulders it were the bogs in which my feet were getting constantly stuck in; no matter how much I was seriously trying, I was getting exhausted and further delayed by one or the other, if not both at the same time. I got to the point of trying to decide if I should cry or laugh, as I made a huge effort to launch my weight over this boulder, with the help of my faithful walking poles without which I could have never survive this day. As I finally sit my cute backside on the boulder to start sliding down, I just feel the weight of my backpack pulling me back and I start falling the opposite direction than that I had intended to; I prefer to think of it as a funny thing, as it just resembled a silly cartoon, and so easily could have ended bad…
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On one of the fords, I finally removed the backpack just to get some more water while trying to find a way to still make use of the damaged water filter. One thing I was improving was my ability to retrieve water without freezing my hands while doing it; this time I had my waterproof gloves on; it not only prevented me from getting wet, but also from getting cold.
I stopped after 4 hours just for a sandwich at the end of Loch Avon and the feeling I had was that, although a beautiful place, it felt desolate and disconcerting, with the wind picking up and me getting deprived of sunbeams, or maybe it was just me getting tired of so many different challenges, one after the other, and all of them unusual to my daily routine.
I just wanted that section of my journey over, so started heading southeast onto the flats, again making the mistake of thinking it was going to be quick and easy. Bogs, more bogs, and then some more… I just needed to keep thinking what amazing legs I was going to have after so much hopping.
Once I reached the Fords of Avon, I finally started moving faster… not sure if the massive bank of clouds chasing me and my fear of getting covered in fog without being able to see my way back to the point where it all started, had anything to do with it. One thing I was sure of, at this stage I was not avoiding smaller pools and I was simply walking through them, because of tiredness and simply because I knew I could.
“Jamie, Jamie, are you there?” ... a name that became so familiar to all Outlander fans, female ones in particular. Although not a stone circle for that matter, ‘The Little Barns of Bynack’ stand on the top of Bynack More as people watching you and is without a doubt an imposing feature.
Although not a racing track, this was definitely a motorway where I’m concerned. I was definitely running, or at least trying…
It was at this point I got reconnected to the world… all the silence ends abruptly when you start getting notified about new series on Netflix… it is also the point when you find out you have over 100 unread messages on WhatsApp and that you have the police in your house at that precise moment, taking notes and notifying the mountain rescue as the possibility of you being lost or dead in the heart of the Cairngorms… The good thing in all this is that even the police said I was very well organised, leaving all the information needed to make it easier to be tracked, and that it seemed I knew exactly what I had set myself to do… I was not about to contradict them telling I definitely had not planned the hell I had gone through today though.
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It was the perfect ending of a journey, the sun shining, not a breath of wind, the descent being on an even, well maintained and unboggy ground… pure paradise! How easily you change your opinion of things once you look at it from a different, not so glamorous perspective. You definitely learn to appreciate the simple pleasures of life… like a straight dry gravel path.
Although with around 5 km to go, and plenty of darkness until I got back to the car, once I crossed the bridge I felt I was back into man’s land, where very easily I would be seeing a family having a picnic with all the commodities of today’s way of life… just maybe not as usual in November.
It is not that I set myself impossible targets or something out of this world, as for most fit people this would have been a stroll in the park, although I still like to think it wasn’t that easy route given the ground conditions and the time of the year, but for me it was something I had never done before and always wanted to. It was that sense of achievement when you experience fear and danger and come triumphant at the end of it all… but I will always bared in mind that the distance between success and failure is just so minute, and it could all have had a complete different outcome; after all, it’s so easy to put a foot on the wrong place or think we are immortal…
Thank you for taking time to read about my ramblings of this little, but definitely unforgettable, adventure.
