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At the beginning of March, 2 old Portsmouth Poly friends, Nige and Steve, and I, headed north for our annual winter walking trip. We’ve been doing this since the early ‘90s, only missing a couple of years. This year, though, the trip was to be slightly different for a couple of reasons; one, the sad demise of Gerry at Achnashellach Hostel meant we couldn’t use it for our usual first couple of nights, and secondly, that the weather, and most specifically the strong winds and high avalanche risk, meant that we needed to change our plans. So, instead of hitting the high hills, we decided to stay low. For years, I’d wanted to visit Camasunary, and with the bothy closing this year, to be replaced by a smaller, fire-free, new one, it seemed like a good time to go.
After a couple of nights in the Kintail Lodge bunkhouse, and a wet and windy Sunday just driving about, we headed to Skye and the Elgol road. On the way over, close to a cottage we stayed at in 1991, there is a simply stunning view of the craggy outline of Bla Bheinn and Clach Glas.
The knife edge of Clach Glas gave Nigel and I one of our best ever mountain days that long-ago September, and it remains one of the most challenging summits in Britain.
We nipped down to Elgol to get a view towards our home for the next few days, and to avoid a spell of heavy, sleety rain. Err...not much of a view today!
This was typical of the constantly changing weather for the next few days. Brief interludes of high cloud and even sunshine, interspersed with sharp, squally, wintery showers. And always the wind.
Back up the road, we parked opposite the track to Camasunary. Amazingly, the weather broke for a while.
We loaded up. Nigel, being lankiest, was offered the bags of coal. For some reason, I suddenly decided that carrying the guitar in was a good idea, as well as overnight gear for 3 days, plus winter walking gear including ice axe and crampons. And both cameras.
The walk in is about 3 miles to the bothy, but fortunately the high point is at only 200m. And the weather relented for the whole distance. Apart from the wind, which used the guitar as a sail and threw me this way and that on the exposed summit of the pass.
But boy, was it worth it. As we came over the top, the bay of Camasunary opened up before it, nestled beneath the immense walls of the hills behind. At the far side of the swathe of grass, beyond the unoccupied lodge, lay our bothy, a tiny dot below the slopes of Sgurr na Stri.
To the left, the Small Isles of Rum and Eigg lay amongst shimmering patches of silver.
We dropped down the track, where my guitar constantly tried to overtake me, and crossed over to our home for the next few days.
There's a new bothy being built, as the old one is being taken back by the owner to live in. This was one of the reasons I was keen to get here before its gone. The new bothy is a utilitarian looking new hut, with great views to Rum, but sitting in a bog and without a fire!
Our own home awaited us across the bay, an older building with two main rooms, each with a fireplace. The location is, frankly, unsurpassed by anywhere else I've ever stayed the night.
We installed ourselves in the bothy, and then went for a wander on the beach, and to gather driftwood.
Our neighbours watched on.
Back at the bothy, we had a brew, and Nigel picked his moment to try out the toilet facilities. As Steve and I laughed in the bothy, we watched him run back with the "bothy spade" having endured a somewhat chilly expedition
From now on, every time one of us needed to venture outside, inevitably we'd hear the sound of the wind strengthening, like an oncoming train, and a wintery squall would begin. Inside though, we were dry and, if not warm, then warmer. The fire took a long time to get going, thanks in part to a lack of grate, but when it did, it was a welcome spot of heat and light.
The evening passed in quiet companionship, with our rationed supply of whisky tots marking out the hours, a great curry from Steve (we always carry proper fresh food if possible), and a few folky songs on the guitar, which seemed appropriate to the wild location.
In the morning, the weather looked a little heavier, and the showers more regular, so we decided to stay low again...the theme for the week as it turned out! With lighter packs, we crossed the river a few hundred metres inland at a shallow ford.
The plan was to follow the wild coastline around to Loch Scavaig, one of the most spectacular sea lochs in Scotland, and possibly past the "Bad Step" and into Coruisk. The path is small and in places ill defined, but the views and the position between sea and mountain are utterly amazing.
At times, the wind was knocking us about a lot, and there were a few comedy moments on some scrambly bits where we were staggering around.
Between Rubha Buide and the "Bad Step" the weather turned and we dropped down to the coast to shelter under a rock for some lunch as the weather worsened again. Here we sat and watched the wind, wave and cloud move across the loch and mountain.
This is a truly awe-inspiring spot. The rough rock of the Cuillin seems to flow straight into the sea, as if it had only just cooled and hardened after emitting from the vents of the volcanoes that these hills once were.
Hidden behind the head of Loch Scavaig lies Coruisk, probably the most spectacular mountain basin in these isles. Occasionally we were offered glimpses into this vast cauldron of rock and snow.
We continued on towards the Bad Step, a rocky slab that must be crossed by a thin line of footholds, but turned back before we got there as it seemed highly unlikely that we'd want to cross it in the current conditions.
As soon as we turned, of course, the weather relented a little, and it was a breezy but enjoyable walk back to our bay.
As we approached Camasunary, a pair of deer crossed the river in front of us. We, however, went upstream to where it was a little shallower.
Surprisingly, we'd once again hit the weather window perfectly, as almost the second the bothy door slammed shut, the howling wind came once again, and brought with it hail and snow.
Another evening of food, a few wee drams and songs in front of the fire passed, as the wind screamed and roared outside. However, as morning came, the weather broke, at least at sea level, and though the gusts remained, the cloud disappeared and with it the showers. Today we were due to walk back out, as Steve had to return to work in Edinburgh the next day. Of all the days that week, this could have been a hill day, but we'd already made our choice and this place was too good to leave in a hurry.
I don't know if its an age thing, but as the years pass, I have become so much more happy just to enjoy being in a place, as opposed to feeling an urge to climb or walk. We spent a few hours pottering about on the beach, just revelling in the surroundings.
We enjoyed a last breakfast and a cuppa on the beach.
At last, we tore ourselves away and loaded our packs once again. Climbing out of the bay we were rewarded with yet more incredible views.
The fantastical spires of Sgurr nan Gillean appeared at last, the conditions were amazing.
At the top of the pass, we turned one last time to look back to where we had been for the last few days. What a simply stunning place.
The last mile was downhill, and we were soon back at the cars and heading to Broadford for a late pizza lunch. Then, as Steve headed for home, Nigel and I checked the latest forecast...and decided to get the hell away from the west coast, as it sounded grim! We headed instead, for the Cairngorms, the story of which will be told another time.
