TGO Challenge A Walk from Glenuig to Montrose

Day 7 Thursday - Half way

My route plan today had me walking through the Rannoch Forest to Carie, along the south shore of Loch Rannoch to Kinloch Rannoch, and then over Beinn a Chuallaich to camp at Loch Errochty. It didn’t quite work out like that.

I was up at seven, but pottering about the idyllic campsite meant I didn’t get away until nine. A short walk up the track brought me to the entrance of Rannoch Forest. I knew that part of Rannoch Forest was Scots Pines, and I hoped I’d be walking through this remnant of the old Caledonian Forest. A bridge over the river led to the entrance of the forest, and there were a couple of other Challengers here. Les and Irene had been camping higher up the glen having come from the southwest. Ardrishaig was their start point. We chatted as we walked, but I found that as we were in a thick conifer forest rather than the old woodland I had hoped for I was walking fast, and after a while said goodbye and pulled away from them. I was to see them several more times before the east coast.

The forest track was rough hardcore to start with and I bruised my right foot a bit, but after a while it became a smooth even track and I was able to push on at a good speed, covering the seven miles (11km) to Carie on the shore of Loch Rannoch in two and a half hours. At Carie I found myself on a woodland walk and stopped at a viewpoint with picnic table for something to eat.

In my OMM Front Pouch I carried snacks for the day – nuts, raisins, roasted peanuts, yoghurt raisins, flapjack – as well as camera (Ricoh GX100 with viewfinder and wide angle adaptor), GPS if I thought I’d need it that day, notebook, pen etc. I never got the stove out and made tea during the day. I was quite happy with water. The water from the streams was lovely. If you could bottle and sell it………..

From Carie a walk along the lochside road took me to Kinloch Rannoch and the much anticipated Poste Haste community café. On the way into the village I noticed a couple of Challengers sitting on a bench outside the shop. They guessed I was on my way to the café and shouted out directions – “Straight on!”.

Poste Haste was good, but being a bit stupid I wasn’t to make the most of it. Scottish eateries can be a bit like the rural Scottish personality, reserved and disdainful of self promotion. There was little food on display, and no board that I could see proclaiming wonderful dishes of the day. Instead there was a laminated piece of paper on each table with a few snack type meals offered. I saw that somebody else had soup so I ordered that.

A few other tables had Challengers on, and I got chatting to those nearest me, but there was a general air of lethargy such as is found after a long road or forestry walk.

After a while the two tables nearest me started talking about the option of walking down the glen via the south shore of Dunalastair reservoir, and I joined in as I’d seen this option when planning my route, but wasn’t sure of it. But today, feeling a little tired it seemed to me that it might offer a pleasant alternative rather than climbing over Beinn a Chuallaich with a cold easterly blowing and being faced with a ten mile road walk the next day. I was assured that it was quite possible to walk to Tummel Bridge on the south side of the river, although there was a short pathless section. I decided I’d do this route.

Eventually my soup arrived and as I finished it I was surprised to see a couple of others tucking into what seemed like fish and chips. I hadn’t seen that mentioned anywhere. In any case the soup was quite filling and I was keen to get on, so packing my things I got up to pay and noticed that the other side of the menu had more substantial meals listed. My own fault for not looking I suppose, but why not make it a bit easier for idiots like me? [I believe the cafe had closed down in 2010]

Back at the shop I remembered how I’d enjoyed the things I’d bought at Kinlochleven so went in and spent a happy but frustrating twenty minutes choosing some food for a slap up tea (not to be confused with dinner which I would also have). Frustrating? Highland shops have a curious selection of goods on offer.

Outside the two chaps I’d seen earlier were still there, one of them filling his water bottle with beer he’d just bought in the shop. There was some debate as to whether I could get all the food I’d bought into my rucksack, but luckily bread rolls are easily compressed, and a bit of hauling on the rucksack straps soon had all stowed away.

I followed a quiet road to the south of Dunalastair Reservoir, Schiehallion, the mountain which I’d first seen three days ago from above Kinlochleven, rising immediately above me to the right.

At Crossmount I left the road and walked down the drive of a large ramshackle house to the water’s edge. Dunalastair Reservoir was very pleasant, and the ruinous outbuildings and neglected fields running down to the water made a stark contrast to how such a scene would look England, where every last shed has been developed into a holiday home.

The dam is a mile or so below the foot of the reservoir, the last stretch of reservoir being a flooded, wooded gorge. The 1:25000 map shows a bridge here, but only the foundations were showing now.

Beyond a cottage the path wound up into a wood and then traversed the side of the valley to the romantically named McGregor’s Cave. This turned out to be a man made structure at the back of a ledge, the ledge having superb views, including Dunalastair Castle.

No doubt the “cave”, path and bridge had been built for the benefit of visitors to the castle. I certainly enjoyed stopping here, and getting out the rolls, cheese, lettuce and coleslaw I’d bought in Kinloch Rannoch I made a picnic. After days of no real vegetables the two small lettuces looked particularly appealing. Food tastes marvellous in the right setting and after working hard. I certainly wouldn’t have swapped my picnic tea for tea at the Ritz.

From the cave onwards there was no path, but the ground was no worse than other rough ground I’d encountered, and it was quite easy to find a way through the trees and heather. I came to an old fence at the dam, and after negotiating this noticed that there was an open gateway just a few yards along. The dam was interesting, but there was no way across as had been suggested at the café. However, an access track ran along the south side of the head race, and the map showed it crossing the head race a little further on.

I set off down the track and over the bridge and found myself on an odd sort island with the head race to my right and the River Tummel 50’ (15m) or so lower on the left. A sloping island. Doubts started to creep in. What if the track entered a locked compound at the other end of the island and I was unable to get off? Maybe I could camp and wait for some workmen to unlock it. But it might be days or weeks before anybody came.

The head race to my right was in a concrete channel about 15m wide, and I would guess 2m deep. The cold, dark water was tearing down this in an ominous way, and I couldn’t help thinking what would happen to a person if they fell in. There was no way of getting out. Such are the absurd thoughts of the lone walker.

After a mile or so I came across some people cheerily walking up the track and they were able to confirm that I would be able to reach Tummel Bridge if I followed the track. Even as I asked the question I realised how absurd it was. After all, where had these people come from, and wasn’t all Scotland open to wander where you like? They looked a bit worried when I told them how I’d got there, as if I was some sort of lost wandering madman. Unfortunately, later on whilst wandering round looking for a camp spot I ran into them again, and I started to think they might be right.

After a mile or two (2km) I found myself in Tummel Bridge. Tummel Bridge was just a scattering of houses and two bridges over the River Tummel. The older one was part of the original General Wade road network.

I thought I might find a campsite in some trees on the north bank, but it was too near a house and the road wasn’t far away, so I went back over the bridge and back onto the island. Passing the people I’d met earlier I camped in some rough ground between the forest and the south bank of the river. As is often the case, I looked hard for a good spot and was very unhappy with my options, but once the tent was up it seemed an okay place to camp, although overhead power cables and scrub trees made it a contrast to last night's camp in the old forest.

Dinner followed by cake which I’d bought in Kinloch Rannoch made things seem better. This had been another day of brilliant sunshine and a strong east wind, and my log notes that it was my first complete day with dry feet.