Knoydart. The Whitsun Meet 1965

by P. C. Swindells

The club held its 1965 Whitsun Meet at the head of Loch Nevis in Knoydart, a remote part of Scotland which is ex­tremely difficult to reach. Access can only be gained, from the East by inferior road as far as Loch Quoich,, from the West by boat. H. Stirling has already written about his approach from the East {Y.R.CJ. Vol. IX, No. 31, page 151), and what follows here is by way of an extended meet report covering the seaward entry from the West.

We met at 1 p.m. on Saturday at Mallaig, ready for the sail up Loch Nevis which must surely rank as one of the finest sea lochs in Scotland. Apart from Inverie, half way up on the north shore, and a house or two at Tarbet which lies slightly further up on the opposite shore, there are no signs of habita­tion and the scenery grows steadily more impressive. In com­mon with other West Coast sea lochs, Loch Nevis has a wide seaward end which is almost cut off from the head waters by a shallow, narrow channel, at which point the loch bears away to the north so that it was not until we had chugged through a considerable race formed by the ebbing tide surging through the narrows that we were able to see our camp site at Camus-rory.

The actual manner of getting to the camp site was excep­tional. Often on previous Whitsun meets, the Club has used launches hired at Mallaig but there has always been some form of jetty at the other end; this time, because of the shallowness of the head of the loch and the ebbing tide, it was necessary to stand off from shore about 200 yards and to ferry everything ashore by dinghy. The owner of the launch had towed a boat along for this purpose and, by great good fortune we had a second rowing boat, hired for the week by Geoff Bates. With these two we were able to unload with relative ease and before long camp had been pitched on a suitable piece of ground adjacent to the water’s edge.

Knoydart is the district bounded on the west by the Sound of Sleat, on the north by Loch Hourn, on the south by Loch Nevis and on the east by, approximately, Loch Quoich. The whole area is jealously guarded as deer forest and we were very fortunate to obtain permission to camp. The very fact that it is so difficult to get into the district added considerably to its attraction from our point of view. The mountains split themselves into three groups; first those round the head of Loch Nevis, secondly the Ladhar Bheinn area and thirdly those lying north and east of Loch Quoich that were visited by Carr and Stirling.

The head of Loch Nevis is fed by two rivers; one, the Car-nach, meanders through a level plain for two or three miles and then twists round to provide the pass over to Loch Hourn or Loch Quoich; the other, which is unnamed, falls sharply from a couple of lochans called Lochan a Mhaim, having risen at the watershed of the fine pass, Mam na Cloich Airde, leading over to Glen Dessarry.

On the south, Loch Nevis is separated from Loch Morar by a relatively low range of hills; on the north of the loch is the massif formed by Meall Buidhe and Luinne Bheinn, while in the centre, between the two rivers, standing sentinel over the whole of upper Loch Nevis, rises the shapely peak of Sgurr na Ciche with its outlier, Ben Aden, as a backdrop to the level Carnach valley. About 200 yards off-shore, on the edge of deep water, is a small island, Eilean Maol, which is the nesting ground for innumerable gulls, terns and oyster catchers. The shallows stretch out to this island and at low water it is possible to cross over dry shod, a fact that the birds aggressively and vociferously resented.

The area has little to offer the rock climber. In the im­mediate vicinity of Loch Nevis there is nothing except isolated crags and although Ladhar Bheinn has some fine precipices on its north east face, the rock is of poor repute; it is a form of mica schist and the lie of the strata is adverse, hence causing much vegetation. To the best of my knowledge, during the whole week that we were there, nobody uncoiled a rope and everybody spent their time exploring the country around Camusrory; two parties went off for three days in order to climb Ladhar Bheinn. The nearby peaks offered three full days’ climbing.

Starting on the west, Meall Buidhe and Luinne Bheinn combined together made up one day. I think most people started by climbing direct from camp to Mam Meadail by means of a well engineered stalkers’ track going from Carnach to Inverie and then striking up a rather wet slope to Meall Buidhe. From there the way was clear along a not very in­teresting ridge to Luinne Bheinn from which it was possible to drop at will to the Carnach and so home. No doubt the same thing in the reverse direction would have been equally attractive. I do not recall anything very striking about either of these two mountains but then Meall Buidhe was in cloud and I was somewhat distracted by a thunderstorm when on Luinne Bheinn. I remember being impressed by the north west corrie which contains fine examples of glaciated rock but I was most attracted by the hanging valley, lie Coire, which termin­ated in some very pleasing waterfalls.

The next alternative from camp was to go up Sgurr na Ciche and then swing left, on to Ben Aden and down to the Carnach. I did not go up Ben Aden but I gather it is an in­teresting ridge with a prominent vein of mica about two thirds of the way up.

The third expedition was perhaps the best of the lot and comprised Sgurr na Ciche, Garbh Chioch Mhor, Garbh Chioch Bheag and Sgurr nan Coireachan, all of them over 3,000 ft. We climbed them in that order but if I were to do it again I would reverse the proceedings as both the scenery and the elevation culminate in Sgurr na Ciche. Coireachan is dull, the two Garbh Chiochs make a fine ridge and there is a sharp pull up to Sgurr na Ciche where care would be needed in mist. The disadvantage of any ascent of Sgurr na Ciche from camp was the crossing of the Carnach; unless a considerable detour upstream had been made this meant crossing the saltings and wading two or, if navigation was at fault, three channels.

On the first day of the meet George Spenceley and I did the third of these three routes and by the time we reached Sourlies I was both weary and footsore. We then had two alternatives: to reascend the western shoulder of Sgurr na Ciche and drop down to the Carnach where we knew that we could ford it, or to carry on along the sands and hope for the best when we came to the saltings. I think that George, who was still fighting fit, would have preferred to climb over but he gave in and we proceeded barefoot along the sands. George, in­trepid man that he is with his boots on, was obviously not enjoying walking barefoot whereas I was finding the paddling most refreshing. However, after a while we came across fresh footsteps going our way, obviously some other rambler going home, and this cheered us up a lot particularly when we saw him on the far side of the river and realised that he had crossed with ease. But what we had not appreciated was that the tide had turned and was now flowing fast, the channels were inches, feet even, deeper than when our guide had crossed. However all was well that ended well; we got across with nothing worse than an enforced wash and that saved time with soap and towel later on; supper never tasted better.

We were told that Ladhar Bheinn was the finest mountain in Knoydart and that the best approach was from Barrisdale on Loch Hourn via Coire Dhorrcail. Two parties therefore decided to leave the main camp and to set up advance camps at Barrisdale, going out one day, climbing Ladhar Bheinn the next and returning on the third. The first party, consisting of Sidney Waterfall, Anderson and their two friends, left on the Tuesday, to be followed the next day by George, Alan Brown, his friend and myself. When seen from the south or from the top of Meall Buidhe in the east Ladhar Bheinn looks relatively innocuous, but its north east face contains a number of corries separated by sharp-backed ridges and the main corrie, Coire Dhorrcail, can surely be classed as one of the finest in Scot­land.

The way from Barrisdale leads over the river and along the level for about half a mile to a ruined bothy, at which point a track goes left over a spur to drop into the neck of the corrie where the stream falls sharply through woods of larch and rhododendron. When we left Barrisdale a thick haze covered the low-lying ground and there was every indication that the day was going to be a scorcher. As the sun grew stronger the mist thinned and at about 500 feet above the bothy we broke through into brilliant sunshine. For the next half hour the views were magnificent; to start with Loch Hourn and the glens remained shrouded and only the tops were visible, range upon range of them to the north and east, over the Saddle as far as Kintail, but gradually the foreground appeared and soon the whole length of Loch Hourn lay stretched out below us.

From the floor of the corrie we struck up a fine airy ridge, Druim a’ Choire Odhaire, which led directly to the highest point of the two mile long summit ridge. Turning east, our way for the first mile was along the tops of the precipices falling sheer for a thousand feet to the foot of the corrie; so steep were they that, seen from above, the rock appeared in places to be overhanging. We followed the ridge almost to its end where we descended into a rather boggy depression which drained into a burn containing several deep pools, in one of which we bathed and then lingered on the bank, drying our­selves in the warm rays of the setting sun and watching the shadows lengthen on Luinne Bheinn. Actually I think a better and more sporting way off the mountain would be by the prominent spur which forms the eastern side of the corrie.

A curious thing happened on the top of Ladhar Bheinn. We had filled two polythene bags with snow that we had found on the north face, and had carried them to the summit, intending to slake our thirst when eating our sandwiches, but no sooner had we sat down than a swarm of minute black flies descended upon us and upon our food and, what was more surprising, soon found their way through the necks of the polythene bags so that in a minute the snow had changed colour to the dirty grey that one associates with Bradford in midwinter. Now where did those flies come from? We found them nowhere else that day and there was no evidence of deer droppings or special vegetation that would explain their presence on the top of the highest mountain in that part of Knoydart.

To me this trip to Ladhar Bheinn was the highlight of the meet. We climbed a fine mountain but quite apart from that the journey was full of interest. Wednesday, the day we left base camp, was hot and sultry and we, heavily laden, plodded up the Carnach until, just at lunchtime, we found the pool we had been seeking; long enough and deep enough to swim in and with a sandy shore, but cold under a large overhanging rock that kept it always in the shade. After a leisurely lunch and a snooze on the springy turf we toiled up to Mam Unn-dalain, the bealach between Loch Hourn and Loch Quoich where we dumped our kit and struck off up an easy shoulder to Luinne Bheinn. For some time there had been thunder growling around and from the top we could see that the country to the east of Sgurr na Ciche was in heavy rain and it was obvious that before long it would be our turn. We made what speed we could on the way down and reached our sacks just as the first heavy drops began to fall; from then on until we reached Barrisdale, we walked in a deluge and at the end it was doubtful who were the wetter, those who had put on water­proof clothing or those who had taken off all they could. The first party that had set out the day before us had taken tents and there they were, snug and dry, when we four drowned rats arrived. We had not taken tents; instead we had relied on local knowledge which had said we would find a bothy; local knowledge was wrong, the only buildings at Barrisdale were two farms and the laird’s house and all were occupied but, thanks to the persuasive tongues of George and Alan the shep­herd, who was also head gillie, gave us permission to use his barn for the night.

The barn turned out to be a modern corrugated iron and concrete affair and at that particular moment was being used for shearing. Hung at the far end were the newly shorn fleeces of half a flock of sheep, rich in smell and, judging by the spots from which we later suffered, rich in other things as well. The other half of the flock was waiting in a pen attached to the barn and when its members were not bleating, sniffling or whistling, they took a fiendish delight in running along the side of the building, smoothing their horns against the corru­gated iron.

The head gillie could only let us have one night’s lodging and told us that if we wanted to prolong our stay we would have to see the landowner. Accordingly, later that evening, George and Alan, suitably cleaned up, sought and received permission and also an invitation to have a bath after their day on Ladhar Bheinn. This idea of a bath was discussed at intervals the next day, it was attractive but we finally decided against, on the grounds that it was not quite in keeping with the spirit of a Whit meet.

It must be a very lonely life for those who live the year round at Barrisdale. There is a rough track up the loch to Kinlochourn but the only real contact with the outside world is by boat and the only time they see more than the occasional stranger is during the short stalking season. They were de­lighted to see us and, having, like so many West Coast High­landers, a ready turn of phrase, they beguiled us with stories of life in the Highlands. During the wintertime they feed the deer’ and even as late as Whit five fine stags answered their call and came down to the farm to feed. They were all in velvet and we were able to get within 15 yards to take photographs.

The day of our return to Barrisdale was another scorcher and we took it gently, over Mam Barrisdale to Loch an Dubh Lochain where we had our first bathe, round the shoulder to the burn in Gleann Meadail where we had our second bathe and lunch, then a gentle plod up to the bealach, promising ourselves our third bathe in either the Carnach or the sea. Just before we reached the bealach the peace of the afternoon was shattered by a veritable cacophony of sound that burst upon us, reverberating from rock to rock so that it was hard to tell whence it came, At last we traced the source and saw our worthy President, white hatted against the sun, and an equally worthy ex-President, perched high on the mountain­side and guarding, like the clansmen of old, the pass leading to the camp.

Before leaving the subject of Ladhar Bheinn it must be re­corded that Arthur Leese was far more energetic than either of the parties that went to Barrisdale. He did a two-day solo trip that took in Meall Buidhe, Luinne Bheinn and Ladhar Bheinn, bivouacking on Aonach Sgoilte where surprisingly, he was short or water; aiming to travel as light as possible he was also short or food.

The terrain of Knoydart is largely glaciated slab with no scree and little soil, which means that there are few trees and shrubs and nobody reported any out of the ordinary flowers. All parties put up ptarmigan and young, one ‘probable’ eagle was reported and there were three nests about one hundred yards from camp where a merganser, a mallard and a sand­piper were all sitting in a stretch of twelve yards. Douglas Mahoney stalked a herd of deer and enticed, allegedly with a piece of Kendal Mint Cake, a young hind from its mother so that he could take a close-up with his cine camera. Ian Carr, exploring the shore of Loch Nevis, was lucky enough to get close to a wild cat. More trout than usual featured on the menu thanks to a large extent to Geoff Bates’ boat, because, by rowing round to Sourlies, it was an easy matter to reach the lochans on Mam na Cloich’Airdre.

It is worth noting that the bothy at Sourlies is no longer standing although the one marked ‘Finiskaig’ in the same estuary is in good condition; the one in the Carnach valley is in poor shape but at the moment still offers some shelter. The camp site rivalled Loch Clair for beauty and its remoteness could scarcely be equalled anywhere in the United Kingdom. I hope I shall be forgiven if I comment (with my tongue in my cheek and after this, my first Whitsun Meet) on the amount of kit. I had heard that the Y.R.C. liked to expand itself on Whit meets and indeed I had myself acquired a tea chest, but I had hardly expected the amount of equipment that spread over the jetty at Mallaig. Cookers large and small, boxes of all shapes and sizes, ex-officers’ valises and even a tent with poles, the biggest surprise of all^[1] .

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