Micklem Brothers Sample the Scottish Skye

Friday 30th July

11:00am, I boarded my train in Southampton, Sam got into the car from work in Dublin. The race was on. My journey started with a bike ride to the station with my rucksack packed to the hilt with stoves, sleeping bag, camping mat, helmet, harness, wet suit, hiking gear, and about 5 different kinds of shoes for all our planned activities. Sam, with the car overflowing with a weeks’ worth of food for two hungry lads (including the entire SuperValu supply of tinned tuna), along with all the gear and bits I couldn’t bring, drove to the ferry at Larne for the two-hour sailing to Cairnryan in Scotland. At this stage I had made it to London, taken two connecting trains, and was on my train to Glasgow. While on the train I confirmed with Harry (my long-time friend from Perth, Scotland) that we’d meet at the station in Glasgow at 18:00 as that was when both our trains were due to arrive. It was only on arrival that we realised we arrived at two different stations. By the time we managed to find each other, Sam had arrived, and we all piled in and set off north.

Driving through Loch Lomond National Park we stopped at ‘The Real Food Café’ for dinner- vegan haggis and chips (don’t ask me what makes it vegan). Unbeknownst to Sam, Harry had pre-ordered the food and given them our car details, so when we pulled in and got out of the car, one of the servers walked up to Sam and handed him three boxes of food. The confusion on Sam’s face even made the server begin to doubt herself. With no explanation given, Sam thought Scotland had the most amazing customer service he’d ever experienced.

We’d all had long days, so we only drove a little further, turning off the main road at Orchy and down a single-track road. We passed several campers along the way until we reached the end, packed our bags for the night and had a short walk-in to find a camping spot. Walking along the river we saw more than a dozen stags who stood there watching us, otherwise unbothered by our presence. We cut in from the river to camp on a small mound with a nice breeze, hoping to be relatively midge free. As it was Harry’s birthday a week earlier Sam had purchased a cake for us to celebrate. I tried to cut into the cake with the handle of my spoon, expecting it to cut relatively easily into the sponge, only to feel extreme resistance and realise it was in-fact a biscuit cake. According to the label it was also a Christmas Birthday Cake. Either way, a lovely way to end the day.

Saturday 31st July

When Sam and I woke we thought we heard the faint patter of rain on our tent. When we opened our eyes, we discovered it was just the sheer volume of midges- there was not a breath of wind. We were safe in our tent, but all our bags (including long clothes and midge nets) were outside the tent. We decided to make a break for it, bursting out of the tent, flinging the bags away, and trying to grab our protection. The dense swarm of midges around us seemed like something from the apocalypse. We resorted to walking up and down the path to keep them at bay, but we still had to pack away our tent and sleeping gear. Summoning the courage, we made a sprint effort, packing up in record time, and getting out ASAP. Unluckily for me, one of my wrists was slightly uncovered and they made full use of the entry point.

Back to the car we drove on to Ballachulish, where we cooked oats in the car park and picked up some forgotten items (such as toothbrushes). We had our sights set on a multipitch climb known as Agag’s Groove on one of the faces of Buachaille Etive Mòr, a Monroe just outside Glencoe. We parked in a carpark that I can only assume single handedly keeps the local garage in business with the size of the potholes. We began the walk-in, on a path to begin with before donning our helmets and began to scramble upwards to where we would need ropes. ‘Mum would hate to know we were doing this’ may or may not have been uttered on the way up. On arrival at the start of the first pitch one of my dry bags fell out of my bag and began tumbling back down the mountain but luckily didn’t fall too far and I was able to retrieve it.

We were going to be ‘Trad Climbing’ which means that the rock face is bear and one climber (in our case Harry) climbs up with gear in their harness and puts the pieces into the wall to clip the ropes into while a person below (Sam) belays them. Then the other climber(s) climb up from below, taking the gear out as they go while being belayed from above. Each time you put the gear in and take it all out again, it is known as a pitch and our climb involved four. We spent a little while practising our calls, taking gear out, and tying in before Harry set off for the first pitch. It took both Sam and I a couple of pitches to start feeling comfortable, but then we enthralled by the exposure we had at such heights on the side of a mountain. Each pitch had its challenges but luckily, we never needed the ropes, and the climbing was relatively easy, but not without the high adrenaline feeling. We arrived at the end of the climb in time for lunch and munched on some peanut butter wraps while we put the gear away. It was only a short scramble further up to reach the summit of the mountain- and Sam’s first Monroe. It was a stunning experience, made all the better by a group of hikers who were obviously surprised and impressed to see us appear over the edge in our climbing gear.

We took the easy way down, walking down the scree on the other side to reach the car. Continuing north, Harry requested us to pull in at a spot he’d never been to before. Climbing over the wall at the layby, we found a small waterfall with a pool below. We thought this would be a lovely spot to clean ourselves up but noticed there might be another small pool halfway up, so we scrambled up. To our delight, we jumped into our own private plunge pool.

Feeling refreshed, we needed a camping spot free from midges, so we set our sights on Cuil Bay. There were a few cars when we arrived, so we packed up our things for dinner and camping and walked round to the next bay which we had all to ourselves (save some sheep and Canada Geese). Encouraged by the sea breeze, I made a start on dinner (pasta, beans, tomato sauce, chorizo, and chilli) while the others pitched tents and got started on our driftwood fire. We basked in the evening sun, devouring our dinner before settling round the fire for a good campfire singsong. I wouldn’t care to comment on the quality of the singing, but the effort and enthusiasm was second to none. After sacrificing some very hot rocks to the sea and making sure the fire was out, we settled down for a well-earned rest.

Sunday 1st August

It’s hard to describe the delight we felt waking up to sunshine, a gentle breeze, and, most importantly, no midges. Breakfast on board, we set off for Kinlochleven where we would begin our canyoning adventure. The premise was that we would put on helmets and wetsuits, walk up the banks of the River Leven, scouting out the river for places to jump and any potential hazards, before getting in the water and working our way back down again. Sam brought his GoPro and took some footage of the adventure, but I only took before and after photos on my camera.

We set off, with varying approaches to sun cream, footwear, and percentage of the wetsuit on, walking in and out of the shade up the first part of the gorge. With several jump spots located, we decided it was time to continue our journey upstream from within the river. Our plan was to find a fork in the river, take the left branch, and follow it until we got to a waterfall we’d noted on the map and then turn around. I think the real joy of this part of the activity is that although you’re following a path of sorts, it’s extremely engaging as you figure out what way to climb up past the small falls along the way, coupled with the physical challenge of some relatively challenging climbing. Having excellent company also helps!

Having found our waterfall, we sat on an overhanging branch to enjoy some snacks before we started back down. There was a bit of a plunge pool at our turnaround spot and a slab we thought we could climb up for our first jump in. We all made it up and then had to traverse the steeply slanted slab to the edge to jump. Sam made it using some of the moss, before jumping, Harry started but decide the moss was about to give and turned back. I made it most of the way, before the moss did give, and I had to quickly bail on the traverse and launch myself into the water below. An exciting start! We continued in a more controlled manner, always checking the water depth, finding ledges and boulders to jump off- always searching for the next highest one. The best of the lot was a waterfall hidden up a tributary that Harry spotted. It’s hard to gauge how high it was, but certainly the biggest thrill, and enough time falling to be able to process it! We tried to scale some of the faces above the deeper water too, but Harry was the only one with any real success. There was a lovely stretch of about 50m to finish up the adventure (which Sam thought was far too much swimming).

At this stage it was time for lunch in the sun after about 3 hours exploring. Before we left, we paid a visit to Grey Mare’s Waterfall and saw some people about to begin the Via Ferrata route there. It was quite spectacular, but we needed to deliver Harry to the bus station in Fort William, so we had to be on our way.

Having said our goodbyes, Sam and I travelled further north onto the Isle of Skye. We planned to climb Sgurr Alasdair (another Monroe in the Cuillin Hills which was featured in a Danny MacAskill YouTube video called ‘The Ridge’) the following day, so we wanted to do as much of the journey on Sunday as possible. We crossed the famous Skye Bridge and then turned off at Sligachan onto a single-track road with semi-frequent passing places. We met a frustratingly large number of cars which made progress slow, though one of them did give us a ticket to park in the carpark of the ‘Fairy Pools’, so we decided to pay them a visit. It didn’t get off to a good start with a group of girls obnoxiously playing music through a speaker and then we saw a small boy swinging his dog around by the lead- though the father was appreciative when I told him that we thought it was unacceptable. The pools were nice to see, some relatively clear water but there were too many people and we had bigger fish to fry so we headed on to Glenbrittle.

We enjoyed our camping-stove-cooked thai red curry for dinner before hiking out to find a quiet (and hopefully midge free) camping spot on the headland. Pleased with our spot, we pitched the tent, Sam ran back to the car to fetch his retainer, we did some stretching, played some cards, and drifted off to sleep.

Monday 2nd August

There was enough of a breeze where we were to keep the worst of the midges away while we packed up and went back to the car to make breakfast. There were most definitely midges here, so we readied ourselves for our climb up Sgurr Alasdair promptly and set off. When we woke up, Sam said to me that he didn’t think the stretching helped. The midges must have made him swiftly forget about his tired limbs as he took off at a roaring pace.

The sun was out, and we were the first to set off up towards the corrie. Once at the beautiful corrie lake there were a number of routes to various summits. Our route took us up ‘The Great Stone Chute’. It was described as 2 steps forward, 1 step back online and we could see why as we very slowly scrambled up the steep scree covered mountain side. Helmets were a must on this route. We needed plenty of breaks as it was hard work, but luckily the views below were just wonderful. After a couple of hours working up, we reached a saddle, and then end of the scree. From there it was just a short scramble along a ridge to reach the summit. The highest peak in the range gave us a real sense of being on top of the world. Sam’s words on the top were ‘I feel very stable here but we’re just 3m from death’.

With the views fully taken in we set about negotiating our way back down the scree. We had to make sure that only one of us were moving at a time to avoid being clattered by falling rocks. At one stage, I dislodged a rock about the size of my head, and it rolled down about 100m- I was thankful there was no one below. As we came to the end of the scree, it was smaller and less steep, so was almost like skiing as we were able to walk down it a little quicker. We had a small paddle in the corrie lake, before continuing our descent- we had business on the other end of the island that afternoon.

We re-negotiated the single-track road past the Fairy Pools, and drove to Portree, where we found parking for the next three days, packed our bags, and walked to the bus. We were going to Rubha Hunish at the very north of the island to do the first three days of the Skye Trail walking back to the car. The bus journey took just over an hour along mainly single-track roads, at one stage it had to do a three-point turn to get round a corner. Amazingly, Sam managed to sleep through most of it! We were deposited as far as the road would take us and then we began to talk the 2.5km to a Bothy right on the edge of a cliff. Unfortunately, there was a family staying in it, so we walked a little further along to find a spot to camp. Another cliff edge to maximise the chance of a breeze. We went for our classic camp dinner (pasta, lentils, cous cous, soup, chorizo, and fresh chili) before walking back to the bothy to get to the sea for a swim. The water was beautifully clear, and we found a spot to jump in. Stripping off we through ourselves in, before getting out almost as quickly given the temperature. The salt stinging on our dry skin was hopefully a sign of healing!

Tuesday 3rd August

The first day of the walk was due to take us along the headland to Flodigarry, walking along the tops of striking sea cliffs. The last part of the walk brought us down to near sea level through some dense undergrowth. We realised too late to put on our long trousers and had already picked up a few ticks. We removed as many as we could at the time, put on waterproofs and finished into Flodigarry where we had a thorough tick removal session. It was around lunchtime and we’d technically done all we had to do for the day, but the second day was due to be a long one, so we walked a little further to a lake, where we had lunch, before continuing walking along a set of cliffs called ‘The Quirang’.

This was a bit more of a tourist route, so to keep things special to us we found a few side adventures including scaling a stack called ‘The Prison’ and Sam scaled up another hill to fill our bottles from a spring. We passed through the tourist car park and continued across to the next ridgeline where the mainstream tourists were too afraid to go. With energy in our legs and the potential of the weather breaking the next day kept walking after we reached the next peak. With the wind beginning to pick up we were conscious of finding a relatively sheltered spot for the night- midges were not going to be an issue. We stumbled across a wall and pitched our tent behind it. A young guy called Tim joined us for a chat and some shelter for a little while. He was from Inverness and was working in a hotel in Portree for the season before he hopes to travel to Panama and then continue south through South America.

With the wind increasing and the rain starting we got into the tent for cards and went to sleep. I did wake during the night and tried my best to go back to sleep but I needed to pee so I waited for what I thought was a break in the rain but it was just a momentary pause so I was quite wet getting back into my sleeping bag.

Wednesday 4th August

We knew that the forecast for the morning wasn’t for good weather so we slept in for as long as we could with our wall protecting us from the worst of the wind. The rain had passed through during the night and by 10:00 the worst of the cloud had lifted so we packed up and were on our way. Despite shortening the distance for the day by walking further the day before, it was still a full day’s walking with plenty of up and down made all the harder by a strong cross wind. We were walking along the ridge line between the Quirang and another hill called ‘The Storr’. It was like walking along a headland of an ancient coastline when the sea level was much higher. We had sheer cliffs to our left throughout and grassy slopes away to our right. For much of the route we were able to see out to the sea on either side.

Although we mainly had clouds over head where we were walking, we could see the sun shining down on the islands a little way off the coast and also on Loch Leathan- the lake where we were due to make camp that night. We climbed most of the way up the Storr, before cutting around the side to navigate our way between the cliffs. Stopping along the way to take our fill of water from springs at their source, we were soon on our final descent. As we neared the road, the number of people we saw grew and the tracks were increasingly well worn- a reminder to appreciate the moments of relative wilderness we had been able to experience.

As we walked the short section of road connecting our trails, we turned down the offer of a bus driver just before the heavens opened. We quickly threw on our waterproofs- unaware that the rain was on for the night- and headed on in search of some shelter at the nearby boat house. Sadly, none was to be found and we continued on. We contemplated heading off track, down to the beach, but we didn’t much fancy the climb back up and opted to pitch our tent behind a building for a little protection. We were pretty much blocking the whole path to the beach, but we assumed that no one would be heading to that particular isolated beach at 19:00 in the rain. We cooked up the last of our dinner food and retired for some card games, only for a family to come past and head down to the beach- we opted to play possum until they passed.

Thursday 5th August

When we woke it was misty out, but the rain had stopped. There were a few midges which encouraged us to eat and pack up swiftly. The route for the day took us along a ridgeline above a present-day headland. Our map only covered the first portion of the route but after that we knew we just had to head south until we reached Portree, and the car. It was quite foggy at times which certainly made navigation more difficult, especially with sheep tracks looking just as much like a path as any path we were supposed to follow. Early on I said to Sam that we must be turning south soon (thinking that we’d set off in an easterly direction), but when we checked the compass it turned out we were already going south. Later, we tried to find two different routes up a steep face causing us to separate in the fog. In hindsight, this was a mistake, but we were able to locate each other again using our whistles and agree a system for use in the future.

After a couple of hours, the fog lifted, and we caught our first glimpses of Portree. With wet feet and heavy legs, we were pleased to be heading down hill and back to the remainder of our foot supply. We were both thoroughly delighted with our choice of route and all that we’d gotten to see. At this stage we had about 24 hours until I had to be back at the train station in Glasgow and in that time we had to fit in the 5 hour drive, a night’s camp, and one last excursion.

We cooked up a late lunch in the Fort William Morrison’s carpark, fuelled up the car, put our rubbish in the bin, and decided that a midge free night was what our hearts desired. With that in mind, we drove back to Cuil bay set up in the same spot from the weekend. We were anticipating rain but Sam worked wonders getting a fire going again anyway while I cooked up Gnocchi, chorizo, chili, and pasta sauce for dinner. The rain held off all evening as we once again sang songs, warmed our bodies, and reflected on what was such a wonderful trip.

Friday 6th August

Our dreams came true and there was not a midge nor a drop of rain in sight when we woke in the morning. We decided that we didn’t feel up to walking in the rain and that canyoning was so much fun that we had to give it another go. Harry recommended we check out the Falls of Falloch in Loch Lomond National Park. What a recommendation it was! We put on our damp wetsuits, grabbed helmets, hid the car key, and set off on one more adventure. The main falls were close to 10m high, but we were saving them for the finale.

We did a similar thing to the previous Sunday, clambering along the rocks either side of the river, working our way up the canyon, and noting potential places to jump in. It didn’t take us too long to get where the flow widened and levelled out, which just meant we had even more time for jumping in on our return journey. Having warmed up on a series of smaller jumps, we reached the climax of our canyoning experience. I climbed down to test the depth of Falloch Falls. Once I gave Sam the all clear, he didn’t hesitate, launching himself from the edge and falling for close to a second and a half to the plunge pool below. As he emerged from the water we cheered in delight and the crowd of people who had arrived to see the falls joined in the merriment! Not wanting to disappoint our audience we both clambered back up and jumped in once more to another chorus of applause.

We took a few moments to let the thrill of the jump sink in and shared a feeling of pure joy. Happy to finish on such a high note, we changed back at the car and set off just before the rain started bucketing down. Around lunch we stopped at a garage to cook food (sheltering in the boot of the car while it rained) before finishing our journey together into Glasgow station. Fortunately, we were in plenty of time, or else the terrible traffic would have been more of a cause for concern. I got on the first of my three trains, arriving into Southampton just before 23:00 and cycling home from there. Sam tells me he sat outside in the rain for the whole ferry home to avoid being in contact with other people and he arrived home just after midnight. Another hugely successful Micklem brother adventure.