A Cape Wrath Tale: The travelling stone - Part 2

With the morning mist lingering about and the mountain shadows still lying long across the valley, the day came to an early start. A good day. A sunny day. A day closer to where last time my carrier lady was swept off her feet by a raging river (read about that he r e). While hiking along, I could hear her say that she was a little stressed about crossing the mountain pass the next day. She knew it was irrational, but that isn’t how fear works. They walked on, reminiscing and laughing about how last time they had been soaked to their underwear by this stage. The walking was easy and the river crossings were smooth. Steadily they made their way to Sourlies bothy at the shores of Loch Nevis. By 2pm they had reached their destination. Being so early, an idea started to brew. Should they continue for another 15 kilometres? Get the mountain pass over with where everything went wrong last time? While eating a cheese string and a sausage, an important decision was made. I was picked back up and one foot started to be placed in front of the other. Along the shore, up the hills, across the marshes towards the bridge, along the rocky track, across a few streams and into the wildernesses of Knoydart. A steady pace. Sunshine above. Positive energy within and a long way ahead. The pathless climb surely couldn’t be as bad as they remembered it from last time? Right? Well, from what I heard them say it definitely wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t good either. First a path that made us wonder how many had dangerously fallen towards the river by one humble misstep. Then an endless climb. 200 metres straight up to find the path indicated on the map! Nope. Another 200 metres clambering across long grass and rocks. Still no path. And so the journey upwards continued, draining all the energy they had left after walking for 10 hours. When they started to feel completely lost, the path suddenly appeared in front of them. A little further upwards and then it was straight down to Barrisdale bothy. Ahhh, that would have been too easy! Heavy rain started pouring down. Together with the downpour, the light in the eyes of my happy carrier lady was replaced by fear with hints of panic. Not much further was the river that swept her away last time. In the blink of an eye everything was covered by a layer of water. For the sake of honesty I need to tell you that, by now, I was safely tucked away in a tiny plastic bag to keep me dry. At least that was my interpretation. Maybe she had put me there to keep me from running off down the slopes. The rain stopped as abruptly as it had started and made way for darkening skies. My two hiking friends had started to make their way downhill, soon reaching the river that last time caused so much havoc. Now it was reduced to a mere wide burn that could be crossed without taking off their hiking boots. She couldn’t fathom that this little river, peacefully clattering downhill, was the same river that last time had tried to consume her. However, there was no time to give this much thought. Night was making its entrance and they were eager to reach the bothy before the sky turned pitch-black. An empty hope. Soon they had to take out their headlights to walk the last few kilometres to Barrisdale bothy. Exhaustion and desperation took hold of my carrier lady’s partner. His legs were shaking. Tired and weary, every step was a fight against his own body. He followed in my carrier lady’s footsteps while she tried to guide him along. ‘Be careful of that sharp rock’; ‘Keep left, that part is less slippery’; ‘You can do it, we are nearly there!’. Carefully they persevered until the bothy came into sight. At 9:30pm, nearly 13 hours after they had left in the morning, they arrived. Exhausted, I was thrown to the floor together with her backpack. She took care of her shattered companion and wanted to start cooking. Sadly, also this became a challenge when she discovered that their stove for the methylated spirit no longer wanted to open. She whipped up some cold chocolate mousse and sat her companion down to eat. Asking around in the bothy if someone else could manage to open the stove, it soon became clear that this wasn’t something to be solved that evening.

As luck would have it, they could use the stove from other people staying at the bothy. While sharing the cold chocolate mousse, water was brought to a boil, serving them a hot meal and a soothing cup of tea. Too tired to check for ticks, they went straight to bed. Little did she know what an awful night of sleep was awaiting her.

The morning came early. It was clear that she was in pain. Her legs had been aching and burning all night. If you ask me, she slightly overdid it the previous day. But hey, that’s just my opinion. Distraught, she told her companion how she felt and how scared she was that this might be the end of the hike. Fortunately, things got better once she started to move about in the bothy. A tribute to her companion. He knew exactly what she needed. A cup of steaming hot tea to soothe her worries and pain away. With some help from the people maintaining the area around the bothy, the stove for the methylated spirit was forced to open using a bench vice. The hike could start anew.

Leaving Barrisdale bothy rather late, they started to walk towards Kinloch Hourn. Carrying me along they walked up and down along the loch. Rambling around in the side pocket of her backpack, I tried to catch as much of the view as possible. It was a good day. A sunny day. I would say an easy day, but walking along a loch is never easy. It’s up and down. It’s boggy. It’s endless.

In the early afternoon, reaching the end of the loch, they were invited for a drink and a bite by a Belgian couple travelling around in a little campervan. It became clear from their happiness that never before a beer, a cup of tea and a snickers bar had tasted so good! Ohh, and all that while sitting on a chair! I still lay on the ground, but it remained an upgrade from where she picked me up in Cona glen.

Saying goodbye, they continued their journey. Leaving Kinloch Hourn behind, the path went up. Well, calling it a path might give the wrong impression. Rather, it was an uphill boulder field. I was praying that she would not drop me during this section! If that happened I would be pulverised to dust between the larger stones, never to be found again. After a few breathers and one hell of a climb, we reached the top. Now just a few more kilometres of 4×4 track till the Alt A’Coire river. Up and down. Nowhere, yet surrounded by everything. The water in the river was low so they took me across before pitching their tent for the night. The tent was hardly upright when the wind dropped and the midges came out. Not a few, not a few hundreds, but thousands at a time. Those tiny little bastards can’t bother me, but my carrier lady and her companion went into a covering up frenzy. Trousers in socks, head nets, smidge on hands, pullovers in trousers, jackets above as an extra layer of protection. What a battle! Ahh, never before did I realise the luxuries of being a little white stone!

Leaving me outside, my carrier lady dove into the tent to make up the beds for the nights while her companion boiled water to prepare dinner. His hate towards the tiny beasts (~midges) was obvious from his annoyed movements and sudden cursing. Luckily, it didn’t take long before dinner was ready to be taken into the tent for consumption. They had barely started eating when faint raindrops started falling onto my head. Little could I do to warn them, but after a short while they realised that one of them had to come out to place everything in the tents’ front porch before the rain got too bad. She popped her feet out, put her sandals on and started her battle with the midges. Their shoes had caught some rain, but it wasn’t too bad yet. In a hurry she put everything together, managed to place me with all the rest of the stuff in the front porch of the tent and dove back into safety.

Following an incredibly windy and rainy night, it was time to take the last few steps towards civilisation. Well, civilisation. More like a sea loch with some houses around, a few B&B’s, a tiny store and most importantly: a pub! Oh yes, you read that correctly. A pub to have a proper meal and a drink. Oh, and a proper bed. Yes! Then again, I’m running ahead of myself. First a little more hiking. Or, for me, hitching a ride in the side pocket of my young lady’s backpack.