Scotnatrail 20-23. Pitlochry to Kinguissie. Preparation then three days of utter remotness & midges

Day 20. Pitlochry to Blair Atholl. Overcast

I take the morning slowly on purpose, sitting in the kitchen a long while. Last night I backwashed my water filter and was shocked by how much brown came out with the first squirt, as I hadn’t really thought I needed to wash it yet.

. In town I visit the John muir trust visitor centre which is a lovely space with great local artwork and books on the outdoors.

I have gluten free pancakes for lunch - was going to get a Jacket because I want something savoury but a shame to miss out on pancakes! Huge pile of toffee sauce and cream

What I thought to be a pile of stones was 30 ducks snoozing on a jetty.

The walk - feeling like morning but really after 1 pm- begins with a long lovely stretch of the Tummel river and woodland path. Dogs paddle in the still water and sounds seem to be absorbed by the quiet air. Despite a few less welcome steep ups and downs of the path on the river bank, it is a gentle walk. And I take it gently, stoping often on benches both for respite from my heavy bag, and to be gentle of thoughts.

Today is a day for calm, a day to be still while the world moves past slowly., and breath deep within its cool and quiet air.

It passes the grandest power station I’ve seen - a 20s/30s grand block of stone and glass, the start of a snake of pylons heading up the hill. I wonder if the generator was / is hydro powered by the river.

Below the high Garry road bridge I hear music, and suspended below a sort of carriage with ropes hangs, what are they doing? Maintenance? But there are people watching on the other bank - some sort of activity? I watch for a bit then realise - bungy jumping! Feet stand at the edge of the platform then a woman spreads her arms…. and falls down to the river…Her tie is to her feet so drops head first to the water before bouncing back.

Across the ravine zip wires are also strung, and the calls of people flying over the river spread through the woods. The wires lead one to the next in a sort of course.

I chant slowly to myself as I walk, Robert Frost’s poem,

Who’s woods these are I think I know

His house is in the village though

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow

….

It is a simple poem, without grand ideas or language. Just a late traveller, alone but for the company of his cart horse, passing through empty woods. Yet it is very meaningful to me, perhaps the first I learnt by heart from my book Stressed Unstressed, and one I always turn to for grounding.

I have in the past set the poem to a tune, but today feels like a day just for chanting. In rhythm alone there is beauty, melody would perhaps be too much for the needs of the day. In simplicity is gentleness, in gentleness is strength.

Reading a sign about charcoal production in the woods, a dog Walker stops by to tell me about it, and her ranger friends who work on it. Though her anger at the building of the zip wires and their desecration of the view, leaves a sour note to her shared story.

The path runs on the same, beside the river in its steep cut gorge. Two roads and a railway too share the gorge, and sometimes the dominant sound is of busy vehicles unseen above, sometime of the busy waters below.

I stop at the national trust visitor centre for some crisps and apple juice- and enjoy the information walls on geology.

For the second half of the walk, the river gorge flattens out and here and there fishermen are seen in the shalllows. I am a little weary so put in my headphones and listen to SilmFilm. The clouds have been low all day and seem as if it should be raining, however it is 5:30 by the time light drizzle begins.

I reach Blair Atoll at 6. Stop at the small convenience store for dinner and hear highland music playing from a hall. I decide to camp at the castle caravan park, set up, shower, and heat the tin of beef and veg soup. As I cook a little girl comes over and goes ‘what you eating’ and we chat for a tad - where does that bravery go?- I suppose with suspicious looks that arise as you age. And I didn’t realise I missed the innocent friendliness of campsites (where evryone says wow I’ve never seen a tent so small - i always think mine rather spacious). Then little disaster: I nock over my stew! I manage to salvage the majority back into the pot and boil again but cleaning the mess is a. struggle. It’s really good stew as well :(. My bag of crisps has far more calories though - I’m sort of shocked by the difference as the stew seems like a proper meal yet there is a LOT of energy in the crisps. Also finish off the salsa I’ve been using for lunch - literally just eating salsa straight, what style. A tent nearby plays The Weatherman - I’ll never get it out my head now! The lady had offered me somewhere quieter but I like the different drifts of music from tent and from the highland concert and chatter

Day 21. Blair Atholl to nr Bynack Lodge

I wash my hair. In the morning- now only 5 nights wild camping and four days without a shower- longest stretch yet but quite doable. Breakfast is leftover wheel crisps, leftover chocolate chip cookies and caramel latte made from the hot water tap - slightly warm and properly dissolved :)

I stupidly didn’t realise there was a drying room here, my stuff is wetter in the morning and there’s little hope of much drying today in this drizzle.

Stop at the spar - no gf so chocolate and a banana - and chat to the lady who checked me in.

It is quarter to ten when I leave Blair Atholl ( Blair, from flat: the only flat place in the Grampians) heading up the river Tilt. The path is clear and broad, above the river. I watch the changing patterns in the rock as the cleavage curls in eroded shapes. It passes through a lovely little grotto arching over the path.

Having tried all three of the Dairy Milk Inventor chocolate bars I can confidently say that Fizzy Cherry is the one to vote for.

Up river. At the houses at Auchgobhal, the kennel dogs leap in the air.

It is a beautiful walk, dramatic. As I reach further into the valley it becomes more ‘Glen’ like and glacial. Clouds seem to come out of the very hillside, as if they were smoking.

13km covered by lunch- okay. I’m very weary though. The river passes powerfully: I see an interesting contact on rock units that I can’t quite figure:

Streams whiter than snow tumble down the hillside and a spider makes her web between trees - her abdomen seems almost to glitter gold.

I find it very tough mentally. Though thankful for the excellent track, it is dreary, the constant slow plod in and in and into the Glen.

It starts to rain heavily at 4. I thought rain and midges were exclusive but apparently i was very wrong, it brings them out in swarms. The track - often flooded by rain and stream- disappears.

The Falls of Tarf are impressive. But midges. A couple of cyclists struggle past pushing their bikes - at least it gets easier in their direction! The path often crosses narrow but powerful streams that cut the glens side with waterfalls. I think of us in Arran, hand in hand in a happy chain helping each other across the rivers, not really caring to be splashed in the hot sun.

A bilberry adds cheer

In Pitlochry I caught some news. I was saying to dad, out here I feel keenly my unbelievable luck, the magical privilege, that, against all that besets this beautiful world, I can be here, free, unconstrained, breathing these airs. It is a knowledge often forgotten ion the everyday struggles. How utterly utterly lucky all of us are, free to reject the paths we’re on, free to live, in peace.

Then I rech a crossing that really scares me. I’m concerned too. The guide doesn’t even mention it. How bad then are the ones it does!?? I spend a long time considering it, seriously thinking about camping here, but I know tommorrow will be harder terrain. Two poles out I do get across, determinedly. The midges bighting my legs trying to throw me off. Only scoop a little water into my boots.

A second crossing later isn’t as bad. The land widens and I continue on up. Feet squishy -

It feels so remote

I said I’d stop at 6:30 but plough on determined to rech the lodge. A track is rejoined. So many midges.

Wet. now and again I let out a huge sigh

Someone’s at bynack lodge so I go on a bit

Ahhhh I can’t express how many midges exist in this universe. And how thanks a million gods I did not forget my head net. The water I collect is disturbingly brown. Their swarm above my boiling pasta is so dense you can hardly see through it. Everything is coated in them. I finally get into my tent, sealed in against them. Everything is covered in black spots. And everything about me is wet :(:(:(. How will I ever dry out. Even the clothes I washed this morning so that’s two sets of clothes wet. This is actually madly horrible. It’s been a hard day though im not too depressed by it, the hardest thing is knowing that my boots and socks are wet and there looks like little chance of a let up in the rain, and so I feel on the edge of it. My tent is coated in them. And midges peppering my pasta isn’t the treat I need. Thank goodness it’s not really cold.

Kiwi lady apparently went swimming in the Falls of Tarf!!! I couldn’t imagine anything more undesirable, the only swimming that might have happened today would be if I slipped on those scary crossings. I am scared for tommorrow too- three serious driver crossings , that can be impassable - what will all this rain feed?

Also my phone decides it’s a good time to fill up its storage .

I thought it was safe to go out. Oh how wrong I was. Outside seemed such a dense cloud of midges the sky could have been two shades darker. And I feel itchy all over. I cannot do five night of this. I am unhappy with anticipation of awfulness. How will I cross those rivers? I am scared.

Day 22. Bynack lodge to Glen Feshie bothy (Ruigh Aiteachain) ie nicest bothy imaginable

In the morning I feel gross and anxious. Very sweet coffee and packing. My tent door is nearly half black with midge bodies. I am very seriously thinking about the rest of the trip and considering ending at Fort Augustus. I just can’t with these midges and this rain. but that is a desision for later. I have no choice but to get through this day.

I do have a bit of a cry. Wishing I didn’t as it won’t make me feel better. Just don’t want to leave my tent but know that if I don’t reach the bothy tonight everything will be much more miserable.

I put on wet socks. Little smells worse than wet socks sat for two nights. But I want to preserve a pair dry, just for the reassurance. And no point putting dry socks in wet boots!

Positives: today looks mostly flat. Today might be my first ever bothy experience. Today ought to be very dramatic.

I keep thinking of the Julian Of Norwich quote.

“ he said not, you shall not be tempested, you shall not be dis-eased, you shall not be travealed, he said, You shall not be Overcome “ : )

I robe up - short trousers, waterproofs, boots(sticking my feet out though a small gap in the tents midge net, tighten wrists, hat, head net. Then there are no more excuses. Out into the cloud of midges and the rush to pack.

First river crossing ticked off - presumably not the hardest. Proud, I give the hills a ‘wooo hooo ‘. And then, because I crossed earlier than the trail says, to avoid two crossings, some boggy trail blazing. Tiring but I feel soo much better on the move- singing , At the end of the day, all will be well …. When paths are obvious (rarely) it is so cheery - you feel so much less alone, connected to those who thrashed this way before. I see a small cairn ahead and head to it. The track. Next up, the crossing of the river Geldie.

I clean my teeth as I walk up and down the bank looking for the best crossing. To refresh my mind. It is not as I dreaded - the guide book said ‘quite impassable in spate’ which made me picture wading up to your waist. The deepest I would have to Wade if i slipped is my mid shin. I decide on the wide but shallow crossing the route recommends. I prepare as I have done; waterproofs rolled up over my knees, poles to 115cm, waste straps undone shoulder straps tightened. Singing ‘ stable and shore footed Lucy.

I reach the central island in 34 steps. No water scooped into my shoes yet though plenty over my toes. I spend time on the islet deciding on the rocky part, even throwing stones to see if I can make it more passable but realise it’s too dangerous. Boots off then! Foam sliders on and across the Ford! It was the right choice; the water isn’t particularly cold and the fording is easy up to mid calves at most. And the foam & gaffa tape slippers are suppriskngly grippy. Im really proud of myself as I’ve been dreading this so bad. Also ,,, no midges. Whooo Hooo!

My feet are actual a bit dryer now, having had the chance to wring out my socks and their boot juice

It may be that today is a short day, but with low food supplies and just feeling exhausted, the long flat tracks stretching into the distance over moor seem impossible to traverse. I wish to play podcast but want to be precious with power just in case I can’t charge in Kinguissie.

Black pitch pools sit still between the heather, reflecting a tiny break of blue in the cloud. Bubbles sit on the thick water. The Geldie however is silver white, flowing in a pebbly bed.

So tired. Stop for another iced coffee - two this morning and another one for later, I may not have been able to get enough food but I have a LOT of sweet coffee sachets.

At one crossing I slip and my boots go straight through into stinking mud. Don’t be rash. Don’t be hasty. Yuck.

As I finally reach a bridge over waterfalls for lunch the sun decides to come out. Midges are instantly swapped for flying ants. Lunch Is not enough to fill me up. I am thankful for the chance to dry my feet a bit though don’t trust my luck the sun will hold.

I wave to a couple cyclists having lunch under a small tin hut below. First people I’ve seen all day. Although might see more from now on as I’m half way to Kinguissie and cyclists could probably do it in a long day. Hard work though. It’s weird though, knowing I’m sharing the Glen with other people- I’ve felt so alone, not in an unhappy or scary way, i find it generally a good feeling, just as a fact. It’s not being alone at all that bothers me, just the lack of a dry bed and a route out. And the uncertainty of what is to come. I think I would be much less uncertain to decide whether to give up or keep going if I had a clue how I will do resupply for the cape wrath trail - there are so few towns near it, and I’ve already seen how messing it up is NOT good.

I sing over and over those words of Julian of Norwich; also ‘ all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well’

The animal of the day is the frog, so many I’ve seen hoping out of the path.

Midge are a powerful motivator not to stop so they’ve got that going for them - on a steam crossing they swarm my face

Another iced coffee quickly glugged before moving on from midges (they’re not comparable to last night but still annoying)

The afternoon, having passed the watershed of Glen Geldie and Glen Freshie before lunch, is a rough gradual descent. The valley narrows, like it was yesterday until around 5, but more jagged, becoming lined with heather and some trees and loud waterfalls.

The path climbs into a rather lovely pine wood, with very steep sections. This section seems strangely American to me - what I imagined to find on the pacific crest trail. It really is a delightful place, pine scent in this humid air, full of butterflies and distant water noises. If only I weren’t so terribly tired.

I am wondering weather to walk on and make more distace or stay at the bothy

I reach Ruigh Aiteachain bothy at 4:46. Nervously enter. And inside it is magnificent - the loveliest people ever, a group - they make me tea!!!!! How after last night do I receive so much?

And they gave me their freeze dried hiking food! And the water here up some steps is crystal clear - no more brown water. Two girls two guys, two American one Canadian one English, were Southampton uni grad students together.

The bothy is nothing like I expected (I’d seen pictures of a smal crowded room lined with bunks. I would be so happy to have this as a house- two rooms downstairs, chairs tables stoves, upstairs wood lined like a Nordic sauna. The monarch of the Glen painting framed huge on the walls. I take a side upstairs and spread out my tent. I never thought I’d be able to get it dry.

THIS - I cannot express how much - this is why you hike. Having endured, the sweetness is far greater.

I then go to find the river to wash. Don’t reach the river but in a small pool of the stream I wash my self and my clothes. It is glorious - little like sparkling cold water to make you feel clean. The midges are about a bit but endurable for this. Oh - delight - sitting in a pool letting the grime wash away.

I prayed simply for cessation of the rain and midges, and yet the world always seems to answer my desperate pleas with almost a laugh of delight. Sprinkling utter joy. As I walk back (gravel track a bit tough under my foam slippers but I can take that) I see and smell the smoke rising from the bothy chimney

A family have arrived, with little kids, but the group from before -they’re junior doctors and a teacher - invite me to sit with them, i listen to their conversation, I am so lucky.

Fresh potatoes dug up outside the window boiled and coated in chives. Food shared, kindness, warmth from the glowing stove. Crossword puzzles. Word games into the night

I head upstairs. My neighbours in the other half of the upstairs room, the big family tell bed time stories: a frog expedition, Leonora and Leonardo and Leopold and the toad queen trying to supplant frog land to toad land. I am so happy to be here, so cozy, so warm, so content. How could there be anywhere I could rather be. Perhaps the only improvement would be if I didn’t have to move on tommorrow morning, but could stay here with my book, utterly content.

Day 23 - Glen Freshie to Loch after Kinguissie

I sleep poorly on the hard floor and heat but happily, though I feel bad that my rustling and snoring will disturb the family in the other half. I also don’t hear my alarm and embarrassingly the dad wakes me up to stop it- must have been annoying. Try to pack quiet but impossible. Then I go down to rejoin my friends from last night slowly pack and have coffee and biscuits. Listening to their conversation, what increadible people. The midges outside are absolute madness just a swarming cloud in this cool weather. When you open the door outside is a turning cloud of midges

I say farewell and set off just after nine. Midge net on. I am a bit unhappy that the walk is actually far longer than I thought so keep thinking it would have been better to have gone on yesterday afternoon but there could have been no better way to enjoy my halfway point than that beautiful beautiful bothy. If I don’t manage the distance I can always get the bus from Fort Augustus instead of Invergarry which is fine just slightly less satisfying.

The start of the day is like the lovely end of yesterday, wide pebbley river, pine woods, and low growth. Mushrooms in the woods and fair paths.

Everyone about Is so wonderful. I cross multiple times with a nice couple, as the paths split and rejoin. The paths and tracks are well walked and broad , but in the distance cloud sits just over a valley, hinting at the remote wild lands just behind. Just a hint of the forbidding lands - not quite menace but almost, - behind this Glen of civilised outdoors.

The couple I’ve been crossing stop at the river to swim

I think of the lovely little stream where I washed. I am debating whether to shortcut the scotnatrail or not.

The route becomes a tarmaced road through woods. Snacking on giant bilberries.

I pass by the route of the short cut. I can do this.

It’s so nice to have my legs out of waterproofs , though they’re blotchy with bites

Now in very public forestry, passing groups out for a ‘hike’ - family groups, Americans, lads on holiday. A quick Coffee sachet on the bench by UAth lochan. Last 11km in 3 hours pretty good going. My route is taking a big detour and again I consider shortcutting but decide against , let’s see what scotnatrail thinks so worthwhile. The bench’with views over a Lochan’ remind me, like Coinnington tunnel, of the time between the guide’s writing- those views are long shrouded by growing pines.

A steep climb reminds me how fit I am growing. The path - surrounded by pine and moss and mushroom and bilberry- runs along a steep cliff, with wonderful views of the three black lochs below surrounded by forestry, and across Glen Feshie. Scotnatrail was right to come this way. The lochs make me think of the pools on CS Lewis’ Narnia books. I ask a lady to take my photograph - a shame to not record this most wonderful place. B

I stop on a rock for lunc ( benches wit view taken). I’ve been eating cheese strings and on the packaging they have challenges of what you can peel. A few days ago I had one with a five pointed star, with ends at every point, and was really confused by it because it’s hardness as rated 1/3. Been thinking about it every day and successfully managed to make it at lunch today, but the requirement of thought in advance makes me very confused of the rating - am I really slow (the one I ha rated three stars was not very hard though!) or the challenge makers really confused about kids ability to mentally map?

I have to stop to remove my first tick that seems to have latched instantly to my wrist. I find it really hard to remove, and it was a big one as well

On an open section it is incredibly hot. Untrustworthy so - thick clouds gather on the sky’s edge. I am thankful for a cool bench returning to pines. Not for the midges and mosquitos though.

I turn off airplane mode and realise I have signal for the first time since Blair Atholl- it’s nice to phone home but in a way slightly sad, it was a nice experience not to have it, and know I really cannot be reached - to only be able to experience what is in person. I finally make a small change to the route, sticking to the wide Spreyside cycle way rather than scotnatrail’s probably prettier path by the marshes. Feeling tired and don’t want hard walking

I have to remove another tick fffrom the back of my knee. I know I should be wearing long trousers but the paths have generally been broad, and I always wear them short when wearing waterproofs as I have been.. I can’t with this.

Ideas pop into my head - maybe I could quit Scotnatrail, hire a bike, buy my book, and return to Ruigh Aiteachen ‘bothy’

There is a long stretch of road walking to reach Kinguissie , but it does pass the interesting Ruthven barrack ruins.

I reach Kingussie. Big and surprisingly successful shop in the small coop (ie get gf porridge, and get a fancy pad Thai make your own meal which will work well, and it will be guacamole on pita for lunch) Evryrhing else in the town is closed but thankfully the bar at a rather tired hotel is open. They serve food from 5:30 so half an hour for tea

This is just what I needed - a solid resupply to be confident on the next few days, charge going into my battery packs, a nice straight meal, and the ladies to freshen up.

I leave the hotel at seven. The evening is clouded but not cold. The steep climb does not work well wrapped in waterproofs against bittty things.

A bench with great views over Loch Gynack, pale gold in the evening light. a huge bar of chocolate (do you think I can get sponsorship from Cadbury’s?!- cheap chocolate for uni but hiking requires Dairy Milk) And midges.

So thankful I ‘have to’ walk on: the joy of evening walking has been the greatest discovery I think of scotnatrail. As i walk west the whole Loch fills with the light of the sky so that the hill that borders it becomes suspended in the airs. Rose gold. Still light. The heather itself acknowledges the light, paling it’s brightness in awe.

Soo many mushrooms today - in 20m I’ll see ten different kinds.

I keep catching my breath- I hadn’t expected an evening so magical, not at the end of that expedition. The day was in my head Very much a ‘getting out’ day. gold light; open moor, geese flying above. Hills fading one by one. Birds calling from their unknown nests.

Walk west as the sun sets

I find a little Sandy spot of the track clear of heather - I was concerned of ticks. In the still weather I am satisfied it is okay (probably not secure enough for my tent pegs in wind). Midges are out but not comparably bad to night 21- or 22 for that matter. I spend the set up talking to my phone recording my progress. Though I’ve cleaned my teeth I’m hungry so eat a peparami - could do with a few more. Only walked 4km on from dinner. I seem very good at doing exactly 27km’s in a day.