I had a week in between jobs in late April, and this coincided with my wife and her mam taking the kids on holiday, and the sun shining. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, I arranged with the Glenfinnan Hotel to leave my car in thier car park for a few days ( £5 per night, and they ask you to fill out a route card ), got packed up and jumped in the car.
Every stretch of water that I passed on the journey north was like a mirror, Bassentwaite Lake, Derwentwater, Loch Lomond, Loch Leven, Loch Linnhe, and finally Loch Eil:
When I arrived at the Glenfinnan Hotel I spoke briefly to the friendly staff and took my stuff to the loch side. I carried my stuff down by the lawns, but it would be much easier to drive around to the jetty, unload there, take the car back to the hotel carpark and walk back to the jetty along the short lochside path.
It was half eight by the time that I got on the water, so I wanted to find somewhere for the hammock as soon as possible, or at least a beach to bivvy on. Just as the light was failing I found a shingle beach just to the west of Rubha Dubh and got sorted out for my first night.
As there were no suitable trees for my hammock, I put the canoe on it’s side, spread a tarp over it and bedded down there. I was carrying a Karrimat for such an eventuality, and although this kept me off the cold stones, it didn’t provide that much comfort.
I was woken during the night by a rumbling sound, and over the loch I could see two sets of lights moving along in parallel, sometimes separating and then moving back together. I was wondering what this strange apparition was when some brake lights suddenly appeared at the back of both sets of lights, and I realised it was the lights of a forestry truck and it’s reflection in the mirror calm surface.
I woke very early for me at half five, and sat around camp eating and packing while the glen lightened and woke up.
The loch remained very calm, so I set off at 08.30 while the going was good. I hadn’t paddled for a long time, so this was a perfect reintroduction.
Conditions were perfect as I continued southwest along the north shore, and I stopped occasionally to check out potential campsites for the return journey. I discounted the south shore because the forestry trucks ran along there at all hours.
The best place that I found for my hammock was at Camas Crom, on the western side of the western branch of the Glenaladale River, and I noted it for the way back. It was around here that there were two little birds ( Common Sandpipers I think ) chasing each other very quickly, and very close to the mirrored surface which gave me some entertainment for a while, although my little compact camera couldn’t get a very good pic. There was still little or no wind, and the only people that I saw were two people in a red canoe towing a green inflatable behind them, far out on the southern side of the loch.
As I paddled on, a headwind blew up as I passed Gaskan.
As it was lunchtime, I headed across the bay of Camas Grianach and pulled up onto it’s sheltered western edge near the sheepfold.
After some Super Noodles, oatcakes and chilli olives and a Kit Kat, followed by a lie down in the sun I was ready to face the headwind again.
This remained relentless all the way down past Fasadh an Fhamhair, and I considered stopping at the campsite recommended in a SOTP Trip Tale at Rubha na h-Airde, rather than continuing through the narrows as I’d planned.
A minor disaster occurred as I rounded the point to Fasadh an Fhamhair. I’d been kneeling forward to give a neutral trim in the headwind, and as I turned broadside to the wind I sat back onto the seat. As my weight ( concentrated on one buttock ) met the seat, a wave bumped the canoe up towards me and the seat broke. This made up my mind, and I found a place to land ( coincidentally at the exact same excellent campsite mentioned on the SOTP trip tale ). After carrying everything up to the trees, setting up the hammock and tarp and collecting firewood, I had a well earned drink.
I tried to make bannock, but having never made it before and having forgotten the recipe, it turned out to be a bit of a disaster. The tastiest bits were the pieces that looked burnt, and I ate these with a pan of chilli. In the future I think that I’ll just take pitta bread like I’ve done for years.
It remained windy all night, and into the next morning. I had planned to paddle on through the narrows and explore the southern end of the loch, but I didn’t want to get windbound miles away from my car either. I decided to phone a friend who’s into hot air ballooning, and who’s as obsessed with the weather as me. He specialises in the wind though, and after a look on his favourite wind related website he told me that the wind would ease around lunchtime. He also said that the next day ( Thursday ) would be calm, but the wind would be very strong again on Friday. That made my mind up; I would remain in camp until lunchtime, then I would paddle through the narrows to visit the burial isle of Eilean Fhianain before starting the journey back to Glenfinnan with a camp on the way at Camas Crom. I dossed around camp for a while, cut some firewood to take with me for that night and had an early lunch while the wind was blowing.
At this point I found a tick on my trousers, so I took some pics of it. After that it accidentally fell into the fire. I thought that I’d escaped the midges and ticks, but I found another tick the next time that I took my trousers off. The less said about that the better though.
I struck camp with a full stomach and paddled over to Eilean Fhianain in a lessening wind.
I had a good look around the island for half an hour or so, and had a look west to see what I’d be missing.
I then set off back the way that I’d came. With the wind gone, paddling was a pleasure again, as I headed back northwest to Camas Crom.
I stopped off at my campsite and picked up the wood that I'd cut, and continued on my way.
After a pleasant afternoon paddle, I had to put a bit of effort into the last half mile or so, as a large party of paddlers appeared around the headland, approaching Camas Crom from the opposite direction. My time spent in reconnaissance two days earlier was not wasted as I knew exactly where I wanted to go, and I got to my preferred campsite first. I quickly got set up and was soon sat by the fire with my pasta in sauce cooking on the fire and a cup of wine in my hand.
It rained overnight, and the morning dawned very dull but very still.
As I packed up the overcast and mist brightened but didn’t clear, and it gave a very strange paddling experience when I set off. I chatted briefly to the paddlers that I’d seen the previous night, telling them about the forecast that I’d heard for strong winds the next day.
It took quite a long time for the mist to clear, and it gave a very memorable paddle as I continued back to Glenfinnan. Often I was in the thick of it, and suddenly it would clear for a few moments before closing back in. A couple of times I seemed to be in a bubble of clear air about a hundred metres in diameter, which quickly closed in again. This was quite spooky, as there was no wind to drive the mist.
Eventually though, the mist started to burn off, and I stopped for a snack at Coille Bhrodainn, a mile or so to the southwest of my first night’s camp.
After that, it was a very pleasant paddle back to my starting point at the Glenfinnan Hotel.
I packed the car up, went to see the hotel staff and told them that I’d returned, before heading back to Cumbria.
Every stretch of water that I passed on the journey north was like a mirror, Bassentwaite Lake, Derwentwater, Loch Lomond, Loch Leven, Loch Linnhe, and finally Loch Eil:
When I arrived at the Glenfinnan Hotel I spoke briefly to the friendly staff and took my stuff to the loch side. I carried my stuff down by the lawns, but it would be much easier to drive around to the jetty, unload there, take the car back to the hotel carpark and walk back to the jetty along the short lochside path.
It was half eight by the time that I got on the water, so I wanted to find somewhere for the hammock as soon as possible, or at least a beach to bivvy on. Just as the light was failing I found a shingle beach just to the west of Rubha Dubh and got sorted out for my first night.
As there were no suitable trees for my hammock, I put the canoe on it’s side, spread a tarp over it and bedded down there. I was carrying a Karrimat for such an eventuality, and although this kept me off the cold stones, it didn’t provide that much comfort.
I was woken during the night by a rumbling sound, and over the loch I could see two sets of lights moving along in parallel, sometimes separating and then moving back together. I was wondering what this strange apparition was when some brake lights suddenly appeared at the back of both sets of lights, and I realised it was the lights of a forestry truck and it’s reflection in the mirror calm surface.
I woke very early for me at half five, and sat around camp eating and packing while the glen lightened and woke up.
The loch remained very calm, so I set off at 08.30 while the going was good. I hadn’t paddled for a long time, so this was a perfect reintroduction.
Conditions were perfect as I continued southwest along the north shore, and I stopped occasionally to check out potential campsites for the return journey. I discounted the south shore because the forestry trucks ran along there at all hours.
The best place that I found for my hammock was at Camas Crom, on the western side of the western branch of the Glenaladale River, and I noted it for the way back. It was around here that there were two little birds ( Common Sandpipers I think ) chasing each other very quickly, and very close to the mirrored surface which gave me some entertainment for a while, although my little compact camera couldn’t get a very good pic. There was still little or no wind, and the only people that I saw were two people in a red canoe towing a green inflatable behind them, far out on the southern side of the loch.
As I paddled on, a headwind blew up as I passed Gaskan.
As it was lunchtime, I headed across the bay of Camas Grianach and pulled up onto it’s sheltered western edge near the sheepfold.
After some Super Noodles, oatcakes and chilli olives and a Kit Kat, followed by a lie down in the sun I was ready to face the headwind again.
This remained relentless all the way down past Fasadh an Fhamhair, and I considered stopping at the campsite recommended in a SOTP Trip Tale at Rubha na h-Airde, rather than continuing through the narrows as I’d planned.
A minor disaster occurred as I rounded the point to Fasadh an Fhamhair. I’d been kneeling forward to give a neutral trim in the headwind, and as I turned broadside to the wind I sat back onto the seat. As my weight ( concentrated on one buttock ) met the seat, a wave bumped the canoe up towards me and the seat broke. This made up my mind, and I found a place to land ( coincidentally at the exact same excellent campsite mentioned on the SOTP trip tale ). After carrying everything up to the trees, setting up the hammock and tarp and collecting firewood, I had a well earned drink.
I tried to make bannock, but having never made it before and having forgotten the recipe, it turned out to be a bit of a disaster. The tastiest bits were the pieces that looked burnt, and I ate these with a pan of chilli. In the future I think that I’ll just take pitta bread like I’ve done for years.
It remained windy all night, and into the next morning. I had planned to paddle on through the narrows and explore the southern end of the loch, but I didn’t want to get windbound miles away from my car either. I decided to phone a friend who’s into hot air ballooning, and who’s as obsessed with the weather as me. He specialises in the wind though, and after a look on his favourite wind related website he told me that the wind would ease around lunchtime. He also said that the next day ( Thursday ) would be calm, but the wind would be very strong again on Friday. That made my mind up; I would remain in camp until lunchtime, then I would paddle through the narrows to visit the burial isle of Eilean Fhianain before starting the journey back to Glenfinnan with a camp on the way at Camas Crom. I dossed around camp for a while, cut some firewood to take with me for that night and had an early lunch while the wind was blowing.
At this point I found a tick on my trousers, so I took some pics of it. After that it accidentally fell into the fire. I thought that I’d escaped the midges and ticks, but I found another tick the next time that I took my trousers off. The less said about that the better though.
I struck camp with a full stomach and paddled over to Eilean Fhianain in a lessening wind.
I had a good look around the island for half an hour or so, and had a look west to see what I’d be missing.
I then set off back the way that I’d came. With the wind gone, paddling was a pleasure again, as I headed back northwest to Camas Crom.
I stopped off at my campsite and picked up the wood that I'd cut, and continued on my way.
After a pleasant afternoon paddle, I had to put a bit of effort into the last half mile or so, as a large party of paddlers appeared around the headland, approaching Camas Crom from the opposite direction. My time spent in reconnaissance two days earlier was not wasted as I knew exactly where I wanted to go, and I got to my preferred campsite first. I quickly got set up and was soon sat by the fire with my pasta in sauce cooking on the fire and a cup of wine in my hand.
It rained overnight, and the morning dawned very dull but very still.
As I packed up the overcast and mist brightened but didn’t clear, and it gave a very strange paddling experience when I set off. I chatted briefly to the paddlers that I’d seen the previous night, telling them about the forecast that I’d heard for strong winds the next day.
It took quite a long time for the mist to clear, and it gave a very memorable paddle as I continued back to Glenfinnan. Often I was in the thick of it, and suddenly it would clear for a few moments before closing back in. A couple of times I seemed to be in a bubble of clear air about a hundred metres in diameter, which quickly closed in again. This was quite spooky, as there was no wind to drive the mist.
Eventually though, the mist started to burn off, and I stopped for a snack at Coille Bhrodainn, a mile or so to the southwest of my first night’s camp.
After that, it was a very pleasant paddle back to my starting point at the Glenfinnan Hotel.
I packed the car up, went to see the hotel staff and told them that I’d returned, before heading back to Cumbria.
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