However recently, due to changes at work, I found myself high and dry as far as outdoor work was concerned and had to turn down numerous very attractive offers to take to the hills because my remit had changed. Whereas in my previous youth work role I could literally disappear for days on end hiking up some remote mountain pass or spend a couple of days risk-assessing a route for a Duke of Edinburgh's Award expedition.
And do you know what? It got to the stage where I took this amazing freedom for granted.
However I was now finding the old saying to be true - you don't know what you've got till it's gone. And it was well and truly gone. Now it was definitely time to reclaim the mountains. It was time to start extending myself again.
Now, if your idea of an attractive offer is a night in front of the telly, a meal at a fancy restaurant, or a walk in the park with the dog, I salute you- each to their own. But not for me my friend. 'The mountains are calling, and I must go' John Muir. And so I found myself dreaming about taking advantage of this meteorological magic and taking my daughter Rachel on an overnight trip to the West Highlands?
Here's what the plan consisted of: getting away from the stresses and strains of everyday life for a couple of days. A two day expedition into some of the finest mountain country (Jeremy Clarkson impression required at this point) ...in the world!
There's nothing like a trip to the hills to refresh mind, body and soul. So the cunning plan took shape and a visit to Loch Chiarain Bothy seemed to be the best option. Situated in a remote glen 4 hours west of Kinlochleven on the edge of wild Rannoch Moor, this spacious shelter would provide us with suitable overnight accommodation and the walk-in and back out again would be suitably sensational.
What a fantastic, untamed wilderness Rannoch Moor is, with the potential to provide a true backcountry experience amidst some of the most breathtaking scenery in Scotland. It was an idea I couldn't get out of my head and the more I thought about it the more appealing it became. We just had to go! After all, Rach had just signed up to the Duke of Edinburgh's Award and would need some practice ahead of going on expedition, wouldn't she?
Striking out into the wild country of the Mamore mountain range, heading over to Blackwater and carrying just enough food and equipment to stop overnight at a remote and tranquil spot was just what I...I mean Rach, needed. It would do her the world of good. Oh yes it would!
For me, you just can't beat the challenge of being able to survive for a couple of days out yonder, shorn of all modern conveniences, roughing it amid the stunning scenery and rutting stags of Rannoch. The conveniences of life will still be there when you get back to civilisation, and you'll appreciate them more because you'll be different. This changes you- for the better. You find things out about yourself- good things. How to dig deep, rising to meet challenges head on and how to get stuck in. Bring it on!
Planned properly, a back country trip can be a hugely rewarding and stimulating experience, where nature in the raw is encountered first-hand, and getting back to basics becomes a necessity. And it's not as if this is in any way cumbersome. In fact, it is an experience to aspire to and the 'travel fast and light' philosophy is an ideal that's very much to be sought after. It's also an approach that proves to be a clever analogy when applied to life: fast and light, minimal baggage, simplicity is best.
Not for us the luxury of a hotel or B&B to relax in at the end of a hard day's hillwalking. No central heating (roaring fire) no comfy beds or soft armchairs (inflatable Thermarest mattresses packed), no indoor toilets or bathroom facilities (spade provided in bothy) and no running water! Just as well a cracking wee burn full of the purest, cleanest water imaginable, runs past the bothy and into lovely Loch Chiarain. What's not to like!
So off we headed, north on the A82, up through Tyndrum and Bridge of Orchy and across resplendent Rannoch Moor, through glorious Glencoe in all it's Autumnal blaze of colour, turning right at Glencoe village and following the high and winding road to Kinlochleven.
Kinlochleven is a long-forgotten wee village that there's no need to drive through anymore because of the Ballachulish bridge. It's a bit of a chore to drive to, which is why most of its passing trade these days comes from those on foot following the West Highland Way, which cuts down from the Devil's Staircase and past the old Aluminium works, now an indoor ice climbing centre.
Parking at the far end of Kinlochleven (locals refer to it as the Sunny Side, as it's south-facing: keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side, keep on the sunny side of life) next to a lovely wee church, we followed a steep and stony path up through the trees to gain a Landrover track on open hillside, with great views of Am Bodach, Na Gruagaichean, Sgor Eilde Beag and Sgurr Eilde Mor - the southern end of the Mamores.
The views back up Loch Leven were also picture postcard perfect and we stopped regularly to drink in the stunning vistas, as well as regularly re-hydrating. Rach was just beginning to find out what it was like to carry a large expedition rucksack and many adjustments were required, not least stopping to don extra layers when it got blustery.
Once Loch Eilde Mor is gained, a footpath leaves the larger track and heads south, skirting the western end of the loch, past a small dam and then south-east, threading between two hills, over the top of Meall na Cruaidhe and then around the southern flank of Glas Bheinn. It was on this rather mucky and boggy path we struck out heading for remote Rannoch Moor.
We'd only left Kinlochleven at 3.30pm and with sunset just after 6.00pm we were chasing shadows from then onwards. Dad hadn't been to this particular bothy before and navigating in the dark ain't very pleasant, so it had better be where it was supposed to be, as indicated on the map. A wee prayer for a safe journey was uttered and thankfully The Lord illuminated the darkness ahead.
As we consulted the map by torchlight, the bellowing of rutting stags could be heard echoing eerily all around us, and at one point we caught sight of a herd on a rocky ridge ahead, silhouetted in the red light of a blazing sunset. These are truly magnificent beasts and it's pity the camera just couldn't capture this amazing scene. In fact, Rach's iPhone produced a better result than my camera. New technology-one, Dad- nil.
Finally, we arrived hungry and weary at Loch Chiarain bothy in pitch darkness, four tough hours after we'd left Kinlochleven, and we didn't catch sight of the old two-story shepherd's shelter until we were literally right on top of it. Dad's old fashioned map and compass-one, new technology-nil (although GPS would've come in useful, I must admit).
Mountain bothies are remote, unlocked mountain shelters, maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association. There are a large number dotted around the country and they are a most welcome sight at the end of an arduous day out in the hills. And it's a case of first come, first served. We had absolutely no idea the nick the place would be in, or indeed, whether or not it would be full of big hairy mountain men. It was therefore with some trepidation I pressed the door latch and we edged into the bothy.
Our anxiety proved to be unfounded however and it was a relief to find the place in great shape and with no other occupants, although it could easily have coped with big numbers in its four spacious rooms. Mid-week jaunts have often proven to be free of the kind of crowds you find out and about at weekends, so we had scheduled our trip perfectly for solitude.
Our choice of room was easy- upstairs on the left, with a wee fireplace, a large worktop area for cooking on, a clean floor and a couple of chairs- everything you could possibly want. Well, apart from Domino's home delivery and shower facilities. Ah, well! However, it wasn't long before we had the wee Micro-Rocket stove boiling water for Rach's pasta and Dad's chicken curry.
And what a welcome feast it was that night - food tastes so much better when you're camping and you've worked hard for it! Even the most basic warm meal becomes a most nutritious and nourishing feast when fresh air and hunger combine to produce a healthy appetite. Then, after a satisfying dinner, we found that some kind soul had left a little kindling and a small bag of coal next to the fireplace.
Outside the clear sky testified to the wonder of creation as we could almost hear all the stars singing together to the maker of Heaven and Earth (check out Louie Giglio on this subject on You Tube). However, clear skies outside meant a frosty chill to the air inside our but 'n' ben, so we got to work building a fire to warm us up. There's nothing like a roaring fire to boost morale, and we whiled away a couple of hours telling funny fireside tales and making plans for the following day. Then, our bellies still full and a warm glow in the room as the fire died down, we settled down for the night, mattresses and sleeping bags on the floor while the deer continued their serenade outside.
However, as the night wore on and the cacophony continued, I was starting to wonder what venison would taste like and whether or not there were sufficient embers left in the fire for a midnight cooking session. Note to self - pack a set of ear plugs next time!
The chilly dawn roused us, bright and early, around 6.00am, so Dad got a brew on to make tea for the flask and got the rucksacks packed again and ready to go. It's always good to get an early start, especially when the weather's good. You never know what the day will hold and it's advantageous to be ahead of the game, so off we headed down towards Blackwater reservoir, leaving well before 7.00am.
The Blackwater Dam wall can be seen from quite a distance, although it takes an age to reach, and it reminded me of the famous 617 Dambusters Squadron's daring wartime raid on the Mohne Dam and Barnes Wallis' ingenious bouncing bomb. Tally ho chaps, bombs away Ginger! We then crossed underneath the dam to gain the tarmac track at the far side, a routine descent to civilisation and luxury ahead.
Blackwater Dam was the last major engineering project of it's kind anywhere in the world. Build started in 1905, before industrial earth-moving machinery was developed, and therefore this 27 metre high structure was built by hand, with many casualties. Built by navvies, in one of the most exposed areas of the highlands, these hard men worked in unbearably hot, midge-ridden weather and during wild and wet conditions, blasting and carving out huge areas of rocky mountainside. Slogging it out by day on the dam and fighting it out at night in the rambling shantytown erected in the dam's growing shadow.
By the time the dam wall was finally finished in 1909, a number of these men had tragically lost their lives and were buried at the site in what has been described as 'Britain's loneliest and most atmospheric graveyard'. As we trod reverently around this wee burial place on a small hillock (like you'd visualise Boot Hill, in the Wild West, to be like) shrouded in concrete headstones, it wasn't difficult to imagine what life (and gruesome death) must've been like for those hardy souls in these rugged and dangerous surroundings- very sad. However, on the upside, the best views from any cemetery I've ever seen!
The rest of the journey following the concrete aquaduct downhill to the old British Alcan works in Kinlochleven was an absolute knee cruncher! Taxi for Dad! Further down, the West Highland Way joins the track from the Devil's staircase, and it was here we caught sight of the first human beings other than ourselves for two days. Rach agreed that there's definitely something special about this sort of isolation and as we trudged ever onward to our downward destination we looked forward to two exceedingly comfy car seats.
All in all a very worthwhile two-day wild country trip, in excellent weather, to a truly wild and remote location- a great intro to expeditioning for Rachel and a very welcome escape from the pressures of the modern world for yours truly. Roll on the next one!
Rachel says, 'This was the first proper hill walking adventure I had been on. I was apprehensive on what this trip would be like but decided I may as well give it a go since I would need some experience for my Duke of Edinburgh expedition. The whole journey was a great experience and much better than I was expecting. It felt good knowing that we technically had to live off of nature and survive ourselves for two days. The feeling when, after our hard walk through mud and downhill terrain, we saw Kinlochleven was amazing. It felt like we had finally reached civilisation and I was looking forward to clean clothes and a warm shower when we arrived home.'
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