Ladhar Bheinn, Luinne Bheinn & Meall Buidhe

Date: 8-11 August 2020

What is it about Knoydart? Perhaps the roughest, wettest, midgiest and most tick-infested areas of Scotland… and perhaps the most desirable. After lockdown, I was so keen to get there and start the last stretch of our joint Munro round, that at the first forecast of half-decent weather we headed north. Mistake. Knoydart needs – certainly deserves – better than half-decent. In any event, the forecast was optimistic. The weather was indecent. By the time we had walked two miles along…

…Loch Hourn we were drenched. Hadn't been this wet since The Walk to Hinapouri Tarn.

It wasn't so much the rain as the foliage, which has been enjoying spreading itself over the path during lockdown. So, in the style of Brave Sir Robin –

When danger reared it's ugly head,
He bravely turned his tail and fled.
Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about
And gallantly he chickened out.

– we called it off. Fast forward another three weeks and…

…we were back on the same track, this time with a double-decent (and accurate) forecast. An early evening start.

Now, we're told that Loch Hourn translates as ‘Loch of Hell'. If that's true then at least when the weather is like this…

…I'm all for a life of sin! That's Sgurr na Sgine over on the left, and the des res of Skiary on the right.

There's more than one way…

…to enjoy the beauties of Loch Hourn. Life under sail always looks effortless from a distance – but then again, that's probably what they say about walkers apparently ambling along the shore – when in reality we're grinding away under our burdens.

Late in the evening we reached Barrisdale. It was Saturday, and the car park at Kinloch Hourn had been rammed, so rather than go to the campsite by the bothy, we pitched on the shoreline…

…at the northern end of the bay. Perfection! And here's Shinty…

…surveying her new terrain. The following morning we were away betimes…

…and over the…

… river at Barrisdale (with Beinn Sgritheall in the background) to head up the…

… James Watt track, to pitch the tent just above the…

…Mam Barrisdale. I'd thought that there would be some kind of track up to Ladhar Bheinn from here, but no. And the way is not easy, with lots of frustrating…

…ups and downs even before you get to the big...

…up onto Stob a' Chearcaill. Not an obvious or easy slope to get started on. One of those nasty convex ones that drops off towards the corrie floor. Ugh.

From the top of it, at least the summit of Ladhar Bheinn is visible…

…even if it is some distance away. Is Shinty having second thoughts? Actually no – she just loves being pulled on her back as soon as she finds some shiny grass. Honest!

There are about half a dozen significant knobbles on this…

…ridge. Beautiful, yes, but I suspect it turns Ladhar Bheinn into a 1400m ascent.

We kept leap-frogging two other walkers on the ridge above…

…Coire Dhorrcail, and eventually we reached the summit of…

…Ladhar Bheinn. This would have been hard-won even without Caroline tweaking her arthritic hip on one of the scrambly bits. I can only imagine (although I'd prefer not to) what this ascent must have felt like. Still, there was the distraction of a view…

…out over southern Skye to the Cuilin. Memories!

Back at the tent we could look over to…

…Meall Buidhe and the prospect (hip pain permitting) for tomorrow. And a last look down south towards the…

…Dubh Lochain before the midges came out to play.

We're always tweaking our strategy for these trips, and this time the most important development was in our reading material. We'd been reading a John Updike novella on the last few trips, but eventually got sick of his semi-autobiographical, misogynistic tale of philandering in 60s America. Can anyone think of a more overated, quickly-dated ‘great' author? This time we went for the work of a real literary great – Tove Jansson. Finn Family Moomintroll was perfect entertainment. And thought provoking. In particular, for someone approaching the end of her Munro round, there was something salutary for Caroline about the Hemulen's grief when he realizes that his stamp collection is complete. Be careful what you wish for!

To avoid the heat, we were off by about 6 the following morning, again looking down on the…

Dubh Lochain, Sgurr Coire Choinnichean and out to a distant Rum.

From near the top of Luine Bheinn, here is…

…Choire Odhair. I think God forgot to iron this corrie.

We were on top of…

…Luinne Bheinn by about 7.30. Caroline's finger is pointing at Ladhar Bheinn. I can't tell whether it's in accusation or disbelief. Or both. Down below lay…

…Barrisdale.

I had reassured Caroline that today's two hills were probably easier than yesterday's one. And with the weekend over, we had these hills to ourselves. From the continuation of the ridge, here is the view down to lovely…

…Lochan nan Breac, and Ben Aden above it. The real jewel of this ridge, though, is…

…the un-named lochan on a spur leading down to the Carnach. What is the Gaelic is for spa pool, anyone? And there is always the view over to…

…Ben Aden and Sgurr na Ciche.

You might be able to make out, beyond the cairn of…

…Meall Buidhe, Ben Nevis and the Bidean. Throughout these two days the horizon stretched from Ben More on Mull, over Skye to the Outer Hebrides, up to Torridon, Ben Wyvis, and round to Ben Alder and the Argyll hills. But (for me at least) the really great thing about Knoydart is that in these conditions, the views close-by always leave the horizon as just an added extra.

Rather than retrace our steps along the ridge, I had the idea of heading down from the first bealach, and across the top of Corrie Odhair. Those two high lochains looked well worth exploring. They were. Here is…

…Lochan an Talamh Dheirg, with Meall Buidhe behind. Magical. As we trotted round the edge of the lochan, Caroline wondered whether anyone had ever come this way before. At which point what should we see but a single fresh boot print! Worse, when I got home and looked in the SMC guide, it recommended this as a return route. So much for my nose for exploration!

Only a few metres away lies the second of the lochans. I'm not sure that…

…this one has a name. Actually, what's more surprising is that the first one does have a name. I can't imagine why any crofter would have ever happened this way. It's not exactly ideal grazing.

We tried to have a rest back at the tent, but the heat made it difficult. So, in the middle of the afternoon we packed up, and with one lingering look back at…

…Corrie Odhair, we packed up and waddled off down to Barrisdale. Again we opted for the camp spot out by the…

…pier. After tea we wandered out to the old burial ground on…

…Eilean Coinneach, and looked back over to Ladhar Bheinn. A perfect, perfect evening. Warm enough for t-shirt and shorts, and with enough breeze to keep the beasties at bay. Heaven. Oyster catchers slimming over the water, and an occasional scurry of porpoises out in the bay. Eventually the breeze dropped and the midges drove us in before sunset. We could feel it, though. Beauty is a sense, not a thing.

We were up at dawn the following morning to walk out. The weather was changing, though looking back…

…Ladhar Bheinn was still clear. Up at the…

…head of Loch Hourn, though, those little clouds told a tale. Even though the breeze was still from the east, it was carrying rain with it. To start with, nothing much. But it gradually increased, and with about a mile to go from the car, the heavens opened. As we brushed past, the ferns generously offered us all the water they had collected. And then the rhododendrons gave us a dousing final rinse. So, by the time we arrived back at the car, after three sunny, unforgettable days, we were yet again completely soaked. There is a word for this paradox, and all the wonders that we experienced. Knoydart.