So, it was with a higher than normal sense of anticipation that this year’s trip approached. The knee has steadily improved with a bit of physio, and I was up for giving it a go. The forecast, though, wasn’t brilliant but that seems to have been a them all winter, so Nige and I headed north to Fife to meet Steve anyway.
As so often before, we started off our week with a few days in Gerry’s. Simon, Gerry’s son, was welcoming and the fire warm, though the rest of the place was flipping freezing as he’d had very few people in this year. Over a few beers and a dram or two, we tried to fit in some hill plans with the very mixed forecast.
Loch Clair and Loch Coulin
Sunday’s forecast pretty much summed up the week. A constant strong wind driving belts of showers, sleety low down, blizzards higher up, but with enough possible clear spells to get us out of the door. To keep our options open, we headed round to Loch Clair, with the plan of heading up on to Sgurr Dubh if it cleared. As we pulled in, the views were less than impressive.
We lurked in the car for twenty minutes, until we could at least see the bottom of the hills, before gearing up. Its not often that we actually start the day in full waterproofs, but this was one of those days. It was going to be a case of just seeing how far we got, and the track down to Loch Clair is a simple and quick way to leave the road behind.
Southwest of Coulin Lodge, which sits between Loch Clair and Coulin, the glen of the An Leth-allt climbs gently through delightful woodlands. We took the small but good path, and headed steadily uphill. Though it was still damp, the pines and the tumbling stream were delightful.
Ahead, there was no sign of a clearance, but we didn’t really care. I think we’d all realised it wasn’t going to be a hill day unless we were really determined to fight the weather, and we’re too old to bother with that these days; we’ve had our share of such days in the past. Instead, we dropped down to the stream and enjoyed a lunch break by the sound of the cascading waters, before heading back downhill.
Of course, it immediately cleared a little….
Nonetheless, our decision was made, and we diverted round the back of Loch Coulin to make a day of it. Yep, it continued to stay clearer, but the photos only show the brief clear spells funnily enough! The walk round the loch is lovely anyway, and the views it provides of the hills are fabulous, atmospheric when the clouds withdrew.
So, we’d salvaged something from a pretty poor day and I’d really enjoyed just being out.
Monday was grim. Properly wet all day, always driven by that wind. We wandered up the track opposite Gerry’s for a couple of hours, but that was it. Still it was good to get out for a while.
A few days living on the edge
When the hills are wild, increasingly over the years our thoughts have turned to the coasts. We also like a bothy trip, so combining the two has become a regular thing. In fact, quite a few of my reports on here have been about those; Camasunary and Uags for example. So with the forecast looking no better, we pored over the maps and plumped on Craig, the former SYHA hostel on the coast beyond Torridon.
The little road to Diabaig twists and turns as it climbs over the rough foothills of Liathach and Beinn Alligin. A little wet snow was lying on its highest reaches, but as we dropped towards the sea, the chaotic landscape of scoured rock and heather above sheltered coves, that is unique to Diabaig, lay free of the white stuff. We geared up at the end of the track, piling our bags with winter gear, food, whisky and fuel for the stove. We don’t travel light.
The track that leaves the road for Craig is pretty good, crossing moorland and a few small streams with relative ease, and follows a fairly level contouring route. Mind you, with heavy packs there were still enough false summits to start to wonder if we were ever going to get there. In the end, though, it was a relatively simple walk until we were stood on the lip of the valley of the Craig River looking down on our new home.
Craig was a small settlement, nestled behind the beach in this relatively sheltered valley. A few ruins behind the beach tell their story of abandonment, when the living became too difficult as recently as the 1930s. The bothy was the home of a shepherd and his family, before the SYHA took it on in 1935, eventually closing it in 2003. The MBA took it on 3 years later, and it remains an open bothy with one large communal room with multi-fuel stove and a kitchen area, as well as 1 downstairs and 3 upstairs rooms for sleeping. It even has a loo, round the back, albeit one you flush with a bucket of water from the drainpipe water butt. We settled ourselves in and had a brew.
A little later, we wandered down a boggy path to the beach, and explored the clear waters of the Craig River.
As we returned to the bothy, the sun was lowering quickly behind the Isle of Skye, backlighting the layers of cloud and snow that made Trotternish and the Storr almost glacial.
Slightly obscurely, a massive shape was doing manoeuvres out on the Sound; HMS Prince of Wales on sea trials.
Closing the bothy door against the chill, we were soon enjoying a pleasant evening in front of the stove, enjoying Steve’s traditional curry, a dram or two and some folky music.
Morning brought a brighter day, one which would probably have allowed a summit, but having made our decision to come to Craig, we were a fair way from any! We were happy, though, just to enjoy the outdoors. We spent the morning down by the beach across the tumbling river, once I’d tempted the lads out of bed by bringing them a brew.
I really enjoy these days spent just pottering about, exploring the nooks and crannies of a wonderful wild spot, spending time immersing myself in such places, not just passing through. After returning to the bothy for lunch, we headed up the valley above, where a hidden waterfall lurked beneath the moors. Exploring the hillsides above, we were treated to sudden views of the magnificent but lesser known rear side of Beinn Alligin.
We trudged back over squelchy land on the rim of the glen, treated to a little soft warmth, and to views towards Red Point.
After another night relaxing in front of the fire, not even managing to finish our coal supplies, so much had we brought, it was time to leave our bothy home. The walk out the next morning was with lighter loads, through intermittent squally, sleety showers, and by lunchtime we were having warm soup and coffee in the Torridon stores café.
(Continued shortly)
looks like you earned that final day 
