Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

You would think that a trail passing through the countryside of Harris with its wondrous hills, glens and lochs would be well publicised. However, that does not appear to be the case for the Harris Walkway and I came across it while following tracks marked on my OS map during my explorations of Harris last month. Even finding a description of it on the web is not as easy as it should be. I did manage to locate an article written by Cameron McNeish for The Sunday Herald shortly after he officially opened the trail in 2001 when he was president of the Rambler’s Association in Scotland. Here’s an excerpt that gives you a good flavour of the route followed:

Start: A859 road just E of bridge over the Scaladale River. Grid Reference: NB186096.

Finish: A859 road near Seilebost. Grid Reference: NG090971.

Route: From the cairn by the side of the road follow the green track S past Caisteal Ard and Gormul Maaruig. The track rejoins the main road for a short distance before following a minor road to the bridge over the Abhainn Maruig. From here a track runs S over the Braigh an Ruisg and down to Urgha Beag from where it’s only a short distance to Tarbert. From there a combination of roads and paths run through Cadha, Diraclett, Kendibig, Meavag and Drinishader. From the head of Loch Plocrapool another track and minor road combination runs to Grosebay from where a green road runs over the hills behind Cluer and Stockinish. Follow the line of the Sgurran Ruadha dyke N until you meet the road again on the zigzags of the Uamh Ard. Follow the road down to the junction of the Stockinish road, turn right up the sign-posted track and follow it through the bealach to the A859 near Seilebost.

All in all, it’s a good twenty mile trek so splitting it over two days sounds eminently sensible. The trouble with trying something like this in one day is that you are rushing along and that Harris deserves much better than that. Leaving some time to take it all in is very much in the spirit of the island. Not having hoards following you or ahead of you like the West Highland Way in summer makes it easy to slow down and relax a little. From my experience, I reckon that the countryside through which you’ll be passing demands nothing else.

Ferry travel and island hopping are often synonymous. During previous Scottish outings, I have been known to explore Mull, Iona and Arran with Caledonian Macbrayne (Calmac to one and all) getting me to and from the islands in question. An Easter excursion to Arran involved an overnight stay but Mull and Iona have only ever seen me on day trips. Kerrera has been the same with its little passenger ferry getting me there and away.

The main way onto Skye these days is by going over its well known bridge but there ferry options for getting there too. One that I have used is that running between Armadale and Mallaig but there is another going between Glenelg and Kylerhea. That is a small community-run affair but it is summer-only like the much larger Calmac ferry. Unlike others that I have frequented, Skye has seen me on multi-day trips a few times although there have been shorter ones with me spending spending just a single night on the island too.

My Hebridean explorations last month had me spending just the one night on Skye with a few hours spent around Ben Tianavaig as well. I have shared that here already so I’ll move things along to that ferry ride to Harris. The sailing itself lasts an hour and forty minutes and the crossing of the Little Minch does take you sufficiently far away from land that they need registration cards for the crossing along with your ticket. That’s not to say that any sights on the crossing are devoid of land. Just stand at the right side of the boat and there’ll plenty to see.

I made my way to the cafeteria at the start of the crossing so we were well out of Loch Snizort by the time that I returned to the deck. An Easter Monday return from Arran taught me that getting fed before things got too busy was sound practice. It also started to rain as we left Uig so being under cover was no bad idea either and I had a dry few hours there before the ferry came.

Though we were out on more open water when I ventured outside again, Skye was far from being gone from view. In fact, the full length of the Trotternish was still visible even as it became an ever thinner line on the horizon. Some islands north of Skye came into view too. Visibility was very good with some sunshine about and the crossing remained a smooth one throughout.

Any lack of land was soon remedied as we pass into Loch an Tairbeart (Loch Tarbert West) with its myriad of islands. Scalpay was a major sight and, of course, there was Harris itself with its best hill country remaining steadfastly in shadow while other parts caught the sun. After all this wonder, Tarbert still seemed a pleasant spot even if it was far from huge. A visit to its tourist information centre resulted in my picking up a bus timetable for all of Harris and Lewis. Aird Asaig (Ardhasaig in English) was where I was staying the night so a bus ride was in order to save myself an hour’s walking with a full load on my back.

Once esconsced at my lodgings, I took to a spot of ambling. An Cliseam (or Clisham, Gaelic is the mainstay for the place names in these parts) and its client hills remained under cloud and some of the summits were shrouded too. I had no rain which was a blessing given the portents from the weather forecasts that I had been seeing. My wanderings took me around Loch Bun Abhainn Eaddara and along the shores of Loch a’ Siar. The journeying was short but glimpsed steep slopes that were stony and craggy, reminders that I was among proper hills regardless of what their heights might be. These were hills of which I was to see more but I had already seen enough to retire for the night. By then, the weather had taken on a damper aspect but the following day was when the real exploration was to commence.

Now that the leaves on the trees and well into the throes of changing colour and a chill has returned to the air, thoughts turn towards the shorter days that lie ahead of us. It is all too easy after the climax of a summer break like that which I enjoyed on Scotland’s islands (the next installment of that trip report is in the works so it should appear here soon) to hibernate, especially when the weather offers us only discouragement. So, some ideas erupted into my mind while perusing an outdoors magazine on the bus to work this morning. Local hill country always beckons when the days are shorter but there are other options too. For one thing, I haven’t been over the border in Derbyshire for a while and reaching the likes of Shropshire, Staffordshire or South Yorkshire is a possibility too; it often amazes me where the mind roves when the mood takes it. Even this loosely compiled catalog of options could come in useful should an opportunity take me by surprise. The next stage would be to add more flesh to the bones of this skeleton so that I simply could take an idea off some metaphorical shelf at a moment’s notice. It might be the difference between my getting out there and staying put at home.

My recent excursion to Edinburgh revealed a huge flaw in DfT thinking: three-carriage trains running on the Manchester-Edinburgh route and the Edinburgh Festival ongoing. The 15:34 departure from Manchester was packed and I was wise to have garnered myself a seat reservation beforehand. Engineering works in the Chorley area only made the situation worse. Nevertheless, the train was very busy all of the way up to Carlisle after which things thankfully eased down a bit.

That was nothing compared to what happened with the 15:52 from Edinburgh. A breakdown meant that only half of the planned six carriages appeared and ticket reservations couldn’t be honoured; this was the last day of the Edinburgh Fringe so it wasn’t at all brilliant. I counted myself lucky to have got a seat, even if my main luggage was in another carriage. From past experience, I know the problems that were experienced on bank holidays when Virgin Crosscountry could only proffer a four carriage train so I had braced myself for the worst; I even considered stumping up the fare for a journey around by York and trying to get a refund from Transpennine Express. As it happened, the train left Edinburgh with people standing and it wouldn’t have been fun trying to get on it at subsequent stations. In fact, staying on the platform and awaiting another service would have been prudent.

Considering the overcrowding, I didn’t get on too badly with both journeys and I did reach my destinations in one piece. Also, I am a regular train user so I know that there’s better than what I encountered. However, an infrequent traveller could be forgiven for being put off the railways by this experience and choose to travel by other means or not at all. I have sent some feedback to Transpennine Express but a reply has yet to appear and may never do so.  In any case, it sounds as if they need to sort out longer trains for their Anglo-Scottish workings and on a more permanent basis. It’s a shame that the Manchester-Scotland piece was removed from the Crosscountry franchise and even its addition to the West Coast one would have been better than this.

When I first moved to Edinburgh, I had a good view of the Pentland Hills from my bedroom window but somehow never got the notion of visiting them. It is true that Scotland has many distractions and the city of Edinburgh itself can be listed among them but I suppose that the idea of visiting lesser hills was never about to happen when the country is rightly famous for its highland areas of Lochaber, Skye, Argyll and so much more. In fact, that’s where my attention took me when I decided to see some of its countryside before I left Scotland to work south of the border.

Ironically, it was that relocation to the north of England that spurred the development of the hill wandering habit rather than the empty wonders of which Scotland has so many. Thus, I have since discovered areas accessible from Edinburgh such as the hill country near Peebles and the Southern Uplands proper. Countryside immediately north of Glasgow like that surrounding Loch Lomond was a worthy proposition for more visits than I paid to the area and it wouldn’t have been that far away either.

You might try explaining away the fact that I didn’t travel so widely in Scotland when I lived there by saying that I was a student in those days. The proximity of the Pentlands makes that only a partially successful excuse. As it happened, the world of computing commanded my interest while outdoor activities for me then mainly involved cycling around Edinburgh itself and frequenting its public parks. In other words, I simply hadn’t developed the interest in hill country that I have today. That is not to say that I didn’t have a soft spot for fine countryside but I was wont to go after the exceptional rather than enjoy the wonders of what is less so. A consequence of this thinking was that faraway hills seemed more wondrous that what was nearby. That still can stop me exploring what is local to me and head further away but I have been heading away from the obvious honeypots for a few years now. The great thing about going to places off the beaten track is that they are good for the opportunities they offer for the clearing of my head of the stresses and strains of modern life. They also can be on your own doorstep which is even better.

It is perhaps odd that the journey from exploring the famous and wonderful hill country to quieter and equally enjoyable spots brought me to spending a few hours exploring those hills that I was accustomed to seeing out my window all those years ago. It so happened that it was last weekend that allowed that chance on what was otherwise a social visit to Scotland’s capital.

As if to accentuate the curiosity of my never have set foot on them, the Pentland Hills are well served with frequent bus services. That accessibility allows a number of possible starting points for a walk and the one that I used was dictated by the appearance in St. Andrew’s Square of the number 15 going by Hillend on its way to Penicuik. That might seem a little haphazard but I could be a little more easygoing when I wasn’t going that far from civilisation anyway. Otherwise, I treated the outing like a local walk among hills near to Macclesfield so I wasn’t carrying that much but still brought plenty of water, waterprooofs and a good map among other things.

Thus, Hillend was where my walk began and I was soon heading uphill in the direction of Caerketton Hill. The heights that I was to reach weren’t heady but even low sized hill can present a good workout for the legs and this one is very much of that calibre. Allermuir Hill, where I went next, is of the same ilk but it was largely downhill from there on. There might have been a spot of uphill action on the meandering path taking me to Bonaly Country Park but it was nothing compared to the higher points of the hike. I may have been rankled by the route taken by that path but I was soon on the track taking me to the route of the number 10 bus back to base; that track didn’t take long to become a road.

The contrast between my previous disinterest in hill country and my interest today wasn’t the only one that pervaded my mind while there since the hills over which I went offered many very different and varied views, more contrasts if you like. I may never have exceeded 500 metres in height but the relative flatness of the Midlothian countryside round the Pentlands meant that I was able to see far and wide. To the north, I looked down on Edinburgh and picked out its castle, the Commonwealth Swimming Pool, Arthur’s Seat, Salisbury Crags and many other landmarks. Further north lay higher hills brooding under cloud-filled skies while Fife and the Firth of Forth with its islands like Bass Rock were sun drenched in comparison. To the south, heather-covered hills so dominated the vistas that it seemed that they were doing their best to make you forget where you really were.

All in all, I had spent a few hours packed chock full of contrasts: between past and present, in the mind and round about me, the appearance of the land in sun and in shadow and so on. Here’s another one as if all of the others weren’t enough: if I was in Princes Street, I would have been surrounded by hoards processing around on the last weekend of Edinburgh’s Fringe but I was up on hills with plenty of space around me. In previous times, I might have been among the crowds but I now seek peace and quiet to complement and provide relief from the noise of our modern existence. I suppose that we can change over time but I am certain too that there are parts of us too that don’t change so much. It’s amazing how a few hours spent among hills on the edge of a city can reveal so many contrasts, changes and differences.

Up to a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been to Skye for a few years so a visit was long overdue, even if it turned out to be a short one while on a journey that took islands that I had until then not visited at all. There might have been showers floating about but Skye didn’t disappoint whenever the sun made its way from behind the clouds. The day before couldn’t have been more wet in Macclesfield (the Sutton Sheepdog Trials could have done with better weather…) so anyone who knew what I was planning could have been forgiven for thinking that I was mad. However, things didn’t look too bad in Glasgow and the sun lit up parts of the city as the coach on which I was travelling made its way to Fort William. Between the upper reaches of Loch Lomond and Loch Linnhe though, the aspect shown by the weather was well wet. I still found Fort William wet underfoot but dry overhead during a short stop there to change coach before continuing to Skye. That drier theme was set to continue all of the way to Kyle of Lochalsh where Skye was displaying a damper appearance. Further north on the island, conditions were very different with a good deal of sun on offer in Portree.

Once I had dropped off some of my things at where I was staying for the night, I decided to head for Ben Tianavaig for a spot of hiking. To get there, I had to brave the busy A87 before making my way onto the B883 that serves Braes, a place that is noted for a famous clash between crofters and police who had come to enforce the execution of eviction notices. The result of that battle was the enactment of legislation guaranteeing crofters’ rights that sounds not that dissimilar to the demands of the Irish Land League. Different histories sometimes exhibit certain common threads.

Braes was five miles away from the A87 so that was never going to be my object for the day; more than ten miles of road walking is not my idea of fun so a bicycle would offer a better way of getting there. As it happened, my initial target was Camastianavaig on the shores of Loch Tianavaig. There, I met some people who said that there were porpoises playing off shore and I got to see what they were enjoying with my own eyes. I left them to savour the sights and soon found a rough path taking me out into open country to start on my way up the steep sides of Ben Tianavaig. I chose a route away from any really steep drops, particularly those looking a little bit too close to the sea. After braving the leg busting ascent and any showers that cam the way, I found myself on top of the hill with marvellous panoramic views to be enjoyed. The sights included Raasay, the Trotternish ridge to the north, the Red Hills and Cuillin to the south along with Skye’s indented coastline. I had it all to myself for those moments before thoughts of getting back down again came to the fore.

The route down was to be different to the way up and Scotland’s access laws were well used as I negotiated the rough country between Ben Tianavaig and Penifiler. It wasn’t all downhill with there a small bit of uphill action before I got onto less testing ground. Conditions underfoot weren’t too wet considering the rain that was about and the vegetation wasn’t too bothersome either. There was a tricky thicket of scrub that through which I forced my way across a stream but heather, bracken and marsh grasses were the less challenging mainstay. I don’t recall seeing much wildlife and I don’t remember any interest from midges so they can’t have been too bad.

Even with my return to tarmac, there was still the matter of rounding Loch Portree as the sky grew darker. If there was a bridge across the loch, then I wouldn’t have needed to take as long to return to my lodgings for the night. That darkness soon turned to dampness and I needed waterproofs again by the time that I reached the A87 again. The rain was to persist for a few hours but I was after a good walk with its moments of sun and so had no complaints.

An easier day followed and I couldn’t really get up to much with a 14:00 ferry to Harris to be caught. I spent some time mooching around Portree and trying not to buy so much as to be overloading myself with it; the weight on my back was already enough for me. I left Portree at 11:35 on the bus to Uig where conditions were drier with no showers happening on me while I waited there. I may have ended up with some hours to spare but buying a ticket took up some of that time and the sun came out while I was waiting. That ferry came soon enough but that’s a story for the next post in the series.