Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

At the end of every good trip, there’s the bittersweet experience of the journey home, especially you like the wilder places as much as I do. Nevertheless, this was a journey that had its good points with the surroundings becoming ever more familiar as it continued. The first part of the journey involved a lengthy ferry crossing from Lochboisdale to Oban and I readily admit that I was looking forward to it because places that I have never visited before were to be passed along the way. After breaking my journey in Oban for the night, it was time for travelling on land again, a journey that I had undertaken many times before.

Saturday, August 16th:

Of course, good weather can make any enticing sea journey even more memorable but I wasn’t to be blessed with perfect weather. When I arose on the Saturday of my onward passage, the day was taking a more autumnal aspect with damp greyness being the recurring theme. There was a certain end of season feel too, not at all that inappropriate given that another of Scotland’s school years was to begin on the following Monday.

Drier interludes allowed me out and about for one final stroll in the stillness before the afternoon sailing. However, the dampness was to win over the dryness and cars assembled for the ferry with rain falling. I had by now ensconced myself in the ferry terminal’s waiting room and remained there until the Lord of the Isles made its appearance at the appointed time. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for foot passengers like me to get on board and I went to the cafeteria for a midday meal. A sailing taking around five hours meant that it was never to get overly busy but getting some food was good use of the time taken for all cars to be loaded onto the boat and the rain meant that being outside on the ship’s deck at this stage in the day wouldn’t have been the pleasure that it otherwise might have been.

Thankfully, heading due east meant that the rain was going to be left after us at some point. However, we were in the vicinity of Rum before you could reside on the top deck without your sanity being questioned; it was good timing. In fact, there were flashes of blue sky and Rum was allowed to catch some sun and tease any onlookers. Eigg and Much were gathered about the tantaliser while Skye’s Cuillin loomed in the distance beyond it. I did spy some indentations on the eastern horizon from South Uist and wondered if they belonged to skye or to Rum; I am now inclined to think that it was the former that I had been seeing. Speaking of sightings on a horizon, Colonsay and Tiree may have lain to the south but there was little sign of them.

It was nearly the half way point of the crossing before the mainland made its appearance after my being away from it for the most of a week. Ardnamurchan’s lighthouse was approached and passed as we changed to a more southerly direction to enter the Sound of Mull. The appearance of Mull allowed for some spotting of familiar locations like Tobermory and Craignure while we left Ardnamurchan behind on reaching Morvern. This continuous sight of land did make time go by a lot faster than the earlier expanse of open sea. The sun remained hidden away so my camera was never going to be that useful and so I contented myself with savouring what was on offer. In any event, there’s more to life than being concerned with photographic opportunities every single second when merely taking in the sights is often sufficient.

South of Craignure, I was well into territory frequented on my crossings from Oban to Mull. Landmarks like Torosay Castle, Duart Castle, the island of Lismore, Loch Linnhe, Ben Cruachan and so on all served to remind me that landfall was not far away. Nevertheless, I think that it might have when we passed Kerrera that I went downstairs to collect my belongings. I was well organised by the time that we were to dock, even if remembering where I put the copy of my boarding card took some thinking (you start to wonder what will happen if you can’t can find it…). For sailings into (more) open water, Calmac need you to fill out a boarding card in addition to purchasing your ticket. For the crossing from Skye to Harris, one copy sufficed but two were needed for the South Uist-Argyll sailing; I suppose that it’s an extra check that no one has fallen overboard, not at all a great thought.

After my island hopping and all of the new places that I had explored, you could say that reaching Oban was like a partial homecoming, to what is familiar to me at least. The town caught the sun and a memorable sunset was gifted to those who were out and about. Before all this, I needed to get to the SYHA hostel where I would spend the night. Duly booked in and organised, I then popped out to take in the last of the evening, a perfect end to a good day.

Sunday, August 17th:

The next morning was glorious too and I had some time to enjoy it before catching the midday Citylink coach to Glasgow; familiarity was to reign supreme for the remainder of my travels. The sun did duck and dive behind the clouds but the countryside retained its inviting feel as the bus passed Kilchurn Castle and Loch Awe. A short sunny stop in Inverary allowed for a quick piece of camera action; I don’t believe that I have seen the town and its surroundings catching the sun before. The sun stayed out as we passed Arrochar and Loch Lomond on the way to Glasgow. A flying visit to George Square preceded my onward journey by train, an uneventful journey that is more typical of my experiences of railway travel, that landed me at home at not too unreasonable hour. It was a good end to a wonderful trip to places where I had not gone before and the best bit is that I am left with reasons to return, should the opportunity ever arise.

Thursday, August 14th:

Thursday morning began with sunny spells like the preceding days and I would have been forgiven for embarking on further explorations of Harris. After all, I had concentrated my efforts on that piece between Tarbert, Àird a’ Mhulaidh (English: Ardvourlie) and Miabhaig (English: Meavaig) and that’s only part of what’s there. However, the planned itinerary for my week of island hopping dictated that I was to leave for South Uist. Reaching my destination of Lochboisdale was to involve a ferry crossing and three coach rides and wonderful weather remained with me all day.

It was also good weather for those following the circular CalMac tour from Uig. If I recall correctly, they would have been treating themselves to ferry crossing to Tarbert, a bus connection to Leverburgh, another ferry crossing over the Sound of Harris, another bus connection to Lochmaddy followed by a return ferry crossing to Uig. Those bus connections weren’t coaches that were specially laid on but normal service buses which would have been running anyway. Even so, the coach conveying the folk on the tour from Tarbert to Leverburgh allowed stops near Harris’ famous beaches.

As it happened, the route of that tour overlapped with mine from Tarbert to Lochmaddy. I was especially appreciative of the stops made in South Harris because I got to capture views over beaches like Tràigh Losgaintir, Tràigh Seilebost and Tràigh Scarasta with my camera that I otherwise wouldn’t. The former looked especially enticing with the hills of Frith Losgaintir and beyond as a powerful backdrop to the obvious elements of sunlit sand, sky and sea. As if all of that wasn’t sufficient, there was the island of Taransay too. The countryside was flatter around Scarasta but Ceapabhal did break up the flat relief of Toe Head, adding a useful focal point.

If I stayed with the coach all of the way to Leverburgh’s pier, I would been round by Rodel and glimpsed it’s notable church. However, I felt the need to for a longer break before catching the ferry and disembarked in Leverburgh to walk the rest of the way in place of the indirect bus journey. In Gaelic, Leverburgh is An tOb or the bay. The Anglicised name comes from the time when Lord Leverhulme owned this part of Harris and tried to set up a fishing port. Like so many big schemes in Scotland’s highlands and islands, the plans came to nought (a lesson for Alladale, perhaps?). Deterioration in Leverhulme’s financial affairs cannot have helped but tidal conditions at Leverburgh didn’t make things any easier either.

That tidal disruption continues today and, when planning my escapade, I notice that the Sound of Harris ferry suffered cancellations as a result. With that potential for disruption in mind, I decide to check on things before I left Tarbert and get my ferry ticket there too; otherwise, I would have needed to buy it on the ferry because there are no ticket sales facilities at Leverburgh (I think that it’s the same at Berneray). Luckily, tidal behaviour can be predicted these days so my impression is any such disruption can be highlighted up to a week in advance, a very reassuring realisation. It wasn’t to play havoc with my travel plans though and the small vessel that was to convey me soon came into view while I was waiting at the slipway.

The Sound of Harris is dotted with islands and that may be pleasant for the island wanderer but it makes life more difficult for ship navigation, even if there is a good number of markers in place. The result was that the ferry follows a course that weaves its way through the various channels and takes an hour when straight line travel would be quicker. The crossing was a smooth one though there was enough movement in the waters to set off a car alarm periodically; CalMac recommend that you disable your car alarm because of this.

After a short wait at Berneray, it was onto another coach. This portion of land travel to Lochmaddy on North Uist was devoid of stops for the tour, a potential source disappointment given that it went a little way around Berneray. My journey was broken for an hour in Lochmaddy before I continued south with the those on the tour having gone their way on a delayed ferry to Uig. The thirty minute delay had been caused by a car accident on the mainland, on the A87 near Shiel Bridge. The ferry waited as long as it could for travellers but had to leave before the coach from Fort William could make it, a major source of disruption to anyone on that coach wanting to travel on the ferry. I suppose that it’s a lesson in the perils of travelling too far in the same day. Thankfully, my ferry crossing of the day had passed without any sort of incident and all that remained was trouble-free "land" travel from Lochmaddy to Lochboisdale.

I was a world away from the disruption of the A87 and I began to sense the striking peace and quiet that seemed to typify the Uists for me. Even Harris seemed to possess more bustle and Skye having more again. Lochmaddy did nothing that changed that opinion of these islands’ atmosphere while I was there. It wouldn’t make a great place for a shopping trip but the vistas over the island-packed Loch nam Madadh and over towards humps like those of Lì a Tuath and Lì a Deas were well enlivened by the sunshine. Hills are lower and less common hereabouts so there is a more open feel with big skies dominating the flatter landscape.

Soon enough, it was back to continuing my "land" travelling. There is a reason for my use of inverted commas here: this was inter-island travel by coach, courtesy of the maintenance of a host of causeways. By the time that I reached Lochmaddy, I had already encountered one of them: that linking Berneray and North Uist. More were to follow as my journey took me to Grimsay, Benbecula and South Uist. Each was as undramatic as if they were built on the bed of a freshwater loch rather than that of the Atlantic.

A perhaps alternative reason for using those inverted commas might be that a glance at an OS map might lead one to conclude that water trumped over land in these parts. The near constant sight of land as my coach plied its way south from Lochmaddy contradicted such a perception. Though the landscape was flat in the main, hummocks like Eaval’s 347m summit lay proud.

After the remote feel of North Uist, Benbecula looked more populous but it is also completely flat, so much so that it is devoid of good harbours and that necessitated the causeway connection to South Uist. It plays host to the Uists’ airport as well as an RAF base, something that help on the population front. Baile a’ Mhanaich (English: Balivanich) with its proximity to both of these and its hospital would seem to be a major hub in the Uists, particularly for shopping.

After Benbecula, it was on to South Uist. Like the other islands, it too features a landscape strewn with lochs and that was what typified my first sight of the island. However, hill country soon started to come into view and that is what draws the likes of me. After a change of coach in Tobha Mor (English: Howmore), I continued my journey to Lochboisdale. In contrast to the relative bustle of Harris, a more laid-back ambiance prevailed and bus drivers taking a few minutes to share the latest news did nothing to perturb it. When I reached it, Lochboisdale was as quiet as the coastal communities through which I had been journeying. After settling into my accommodation, I got something to eat and pottered out for a short evening stroll before retiring for the night. Further explorations of the island lay ahead of me but following day was to be the time for that; the amount of travelling that I had done from Harris was enough for one day.

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.

Sometimes, it’s just very hard to get oneself home from a very beautiful location and, if the weather’s being very exceptional, then it’s so much harder. That’s how it felt on leaving Oban to head south again on the bank holiday Monday. Add to that the feeling that I had I had not made the most of what had been granted to me and a certain heaviness of heart results. I did have some good walking in that tramp from Inverarnan to Dalmally and the views that I encountered on my Sunday ambling were superb but it’s amazing what perfect weather does to you.

That maelstrom going on in my mind caused me to leave Oban early to allow a stop in Taynuilt to savour a bit more of the area before I completely left it. I planned a two hour stopover and a stroll in the general direction of Glen Noe on the shore of Loch Etive got me as far as Inverawe Country Park. If I had alloted more time, then I might have reached Glen Noe and made the journey to Glasgow smoother than was the case.

My plan was to go to Glasgow via Tyndrum and that’s what I did. A change of coach was needed in Tyndrum and it’s here where things started to unravel; the onward connection was full and couldn’t carry me. It’s being the 11:00 from Fort William on a sunny bank holiday easily explained what happened and I suppose that I should have thought of that. That left me with next to two hours to spend and I didn’t waste a minute by wandering over and back along the West Highland Way. The Crianlarich hills appeared so beguiling that they thwarted any notions of catching the 14:00 train to Glasgow Queen Street.

Like a cat with nine lives, I was left with other options. Chief among these was the 14:20 Citylink service but that didn’t arrive because of a problem with the vehicle. It was cutting things a bit fine but the 15:20 would have conveyed me to Glasgow with plenty of time left to catch the first train on a southbound railway relay that would have got me to Macclesfield at a not insensible time. However, the bank holiday jinx struck again with heavy traffic on the A82 north of the Balloch roundabout putting paid to that idea. It is little wonder that a campaign to upgrade the said road is under way.

Nevertheless, I discovered a late evening service that would get me all of the way to Manchester. There was a wait before it departed so I enjoyed the evening sunshine in George Square before setting off. Once in Manchester, I made my way to its airport and picked up a reasonably priced taxi home from there. My arrival time was much later than intended but I was home anyway and enjoyed some snatched opportunities to savour more of Scotland’s wilder country at its best. I had left wanting more, never a bad thing.

All in all, this was a return journey that was anything but smooth. It was almost as if Scotland was using everything in its power to hang onto me: fantastic weather, wonderful countryside and a busy transport system. I have been left wondering if a better plan for any bank holiday excursion to Scotland would be to add a day off to the break and use that to return home. The traffic should be lighter and I might even enjoy an extra day’s walking in brilliant sunshine while everyone else is stuck in the traffic.

For various reasons and a variety of journeys, I have happened on Oban on a good number of my trips to Scotland. Unlike either Fort William or Kinlochleven, it is not immediately surrounded by hill country and so might seem a surprising destination for a hill wanderer. However, its plentiful supply of accommodation and decent transport connections very much work in its favour as a base for exploring Lorn and any nearby islands.

Casting my mind back over the numerous trips that had me frequenting the place, the thing that strikes me is how I made something of the opportunities that basing myself there given that they aren’t exactly on its doorstep. Of course, the internet helps with planning but it is hardly a substitute for going somewhere in person and just skimming the surface to get a feel for what might be there. After all, I have often found that ideas for future visits come from trips that I have been making. For example, my most recent outing to the Lake District bore that out when I came home with more walking ideas than I would have had if I never went walking from Borrowdale into Great Langdale. It’s great that you can hardly ever run out of places to see and explore, even on an island the size of Great Britain.

When I first wandered into Oban on a day trip from Edinburgh in June of 1999, I was very much in skimming the surface mode. That day, I was heading off on a day excursion to Mull of my own making and saw enough that I liked to nearly make visits to Lorn and Mull an annual occurrence since then. There been years where my attention lay elsewhere (2000, 2006 & 2007) but I always seem to be able to make a return to sample more of what the area has to offer.

There were actually two trips in ’99 with the second one being made with my brother. In both cases and also for a trip in ’01, Oban acted as a staging post for Mull and Iona, something that it does very well. An inclement weekend in November ’02 saw me walking on the island of Kerrera and by Loch Etive with friends from Edinburgh. In July ’03, I managed to avoid the rain and even catch some sun on walks that took from Oban to Taynuilt via Glen Lonan and then from Taynuilt up the shore of Loch Etive to Glen Kinglass and back again. I snatched a drier interlude in July of ’04 to hike from Oban to Taynuilt (again via Glen Lonan) and then up the shore of Loch Etive in showery weather that allowed the hills to show their dramatic side. Deeper incursions into hill country occupied me on a wonderful weekend in June of ’05 with Mull and Loch Etive behaving as muses yet again. The quality of the walking was such that, if I did it now, there might have been two trip reports on this blog afterwards. Summing up the trekking in a few lines just doesn’t seem to do a great amount of justice so a retrospective posting might be the way to go. As it happens, it surprises me that my hillwalking attention drifted to other parts after that but it did and it was May of this year before I found myself back in Oban again. You may already have seen my telling of the first part of that adventure and the second part has spawned this piece, delaying its appearance in the process.

In that quick potted history, Mull turns up more than once. My initial visit to the island saw me perambulating along roads and tracks on its eastern side. I ended up walking from Craignure to Duart Point and back. Along the way, I crossed both Duart Castle and Torosay Castle. the day started off cloudy and, like so many Scottish days, got better and better as it wore on. The result was memorable views up Loch Linnhe from Duart Point and the castle looked splendid too. In August of the same year, I returned with my brother on an organised day excursion to Iona. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came away with a wrong impression of the islands because neither Mull nor Iona were looking far from their best in the murk and rain. Two years later, I had better luck with the weather when I dropped in on Tobermory. Cloud may have rolled in as the day went on, but I got enough sun on the ferry ride and when I first reached the said town to satisfy me. I did a spot of road ambling that day rather than proper hill wandering. That was left until a trip nearly four years later when I crossed the island from Salen and picked up a hill track that took me past Loch Ba and into Glen Camel. The right of way continued on for Glen More but I had a ferry to catch and so retraced my steps.

Loch Etive is another name that crops up a fair bit when I think of my explorations of north Argyll. That first visit under grumpy skies in November ’02 exposed me to the sight of the hills lining both its shores and Glen Etive. In fact, you could say that you are seeing all the way up towards Glen Coe. That first stroll took us from Taynuilt to Glen Noe by way of Bonawe Furnace and Inverawe Country Park with a scary bridge crossing over the River Awe that I have made a number of times since. The outing was enough to whet my appetite and I returned the next summer and got up beyond Glen Kinglass before turning back, catching another side of the Ben Cruachan massif along the away. The route that I had taken was identical to that followed in November; I just continued on further and without any navigational blunders. Speaking of blunders, I did make one: I left Oban thinking that I had more camera film than I did only to end up rationing it later. My next encounter with the sea loch was on a lengthy tramp from Loch Awe station to Taynuilt. My route took me up Glen Strae, over Lairig Dhoireann, down Glen Kinglass and along Loch Etive again. I started it later than I should have done so a taxi was needed to get me back to Oban afterwards. Nevertheless, what started out showery in Glen Strae, turned glorious in Glen Kinglass and memorable along Loch Etive. Speaking of memorable exploits, a two day hike from Taynuilt to Kingshouse at the head of Glen Coe beckons. For now, that’s for the future and will need me to abandon my usual overnighting habits to use a bothy at the end of Glen Etive. I could what seems on paper to be an epic walk from Oban if I wanted, following the quiet road through Glen Lonan that I have done on a number of occasions. It’s good to have possibilities in mind.

Even with all my visits, North Argyll still has more to offer my love of hill wandering and Oban may even see me again. Now that I have got the history shared between us out of the way, it’s about time that part two of that report on my most recent stay in the area made its appearance here. I’ll need to get on with it, then…