Highland Fling

Submitted by mike on Mon, 2008-09-29 12:11.

Kim was to drop Stuart off at his geological field trip at Helmsdale and head to Plockton and I was to swim up. With 'Wild Swimming' book beside me I tore up to the Real Food Cafe at Tyndrum for fish and chips then into Glen Etive for a wild swim in a brown water pool under a creamy waterfall. Bubbles rose from the opaque water like some sea monster waiting for me, air pushed by waterfall through porous rock I rationally told myself, as I dropped into the brown freezing water for a naked swim and to rescue my sandal which fell in earlier. Check out where this pool is and make sure there are no distilleries down stream.

Invigorated and tingling the next wild swim was after the lengthy traffic jam at Fort William, past the commando monument and up single track roads with ancient forests and moss covered dykes to a waterfall. The Witches Cauldron has great rocks and a scramble down steep banks, whilst hand holds are rotting tree branches and a short drop into the freezing water at the top of a waterfall. Not a place to fall asleep otherwise you end up down the waterfall and displaying a shrunken, frigid and flaccid member to the tourists milling around at the bottom of the falls. Swam around for a while and then had to ask the witch to let me out as wet hands up that bank did not make for a graceful exit.

And so to Plockton in poor visibility - none of the flying club flew up (although 2 managed to trailer their planes up). Dinner discussing divorce with a lawyer and eating our way through the Plockton Shores superb fare before retiring with the locals to the Plockton Inn until asked to leave.

The weather was still bad so I headed off to catch the Armadale to Mallaig ferry with the aim of making Ardamurchan Point and back in the day. Driving down the small roads missing a car with the registration plate MOR4R between Morar and Arisaig.

I had read about the Singing Sands and parked at the gate and started to walk with towel under arm. There were no signs of sands, singing or otherwise, so I started to turn back. A trail bike passed and we chatted and I mentioned I was trying to find the Singing Sands and he said 'only 15 minutes on we are camped there'. An hour later after trudging through a wood I reached them and they were camped there - it was 15 minutes by trail bike. I swam and heard the sands singing as I treaded along - it is a beuatiful beach with gorgeous views and well worth the tramp. I aske the guys if I could get a 'backie' back tot he car as I was worried about the ferry and the kind chaps lent me a helmet and I jumped on the back and we recreated the scene from Star Wars with the jet bikes in the forest. With nothing to cling onto but the leather clad guy and with my feet alternatively hitting the chain, the ground on turns or the exhaust we made it through a forest obstacle course. He said 'woah, that was scary' and I realised that wasn't a question. Last time I saw him he was burning oil heading back to the beach... excellent fun.

I had a tough time schedule to meet now and drove down the single track road to Ardnamurchan Point (the most westerly spot on the mainland) and look upon the sea I had sailed past last year. Mariella, the sat nav, now todl me that I would get to the 6pm ferry at 6:15pm and it being the final Mallaig to Armaale ferry I was on a mission. After what I can only describe as a non fuel efficient ride I got there at 5:45pm in perfect time to roll on the last ferry and back to consume much alcohol.

The barman seemed to take a dislike to us, and in particular me, although going up to bar and being ignored I idly asked if he was playing tetris - and got a bark back - no I am not playing tetris as he continued texting. I loudly speculated that it he certainly wasn't surfing 'www.howtobeagoodbarman.com' but fortunately another barman served me before thugee expended his rage on my face. It also didn;t help that when I was asked what was wrong with the barman - I replied that he is a 'daft c*nt' then seeing the look on the face of the interviewer said 'he is behind me isn't he'. Of course he was and so we didn't get served anything on the residents licence....

Kim was going to tackle Blaven on Skye with Gordon and Jill and I decided to tour Skye. I took the wee ferry at Glenelg which is a roundtable 6 car ferry where the boat runs parallel to the slipway and the girl and skipper swing the car table round to let the drivers drive on. Half a dozen dogs were waiting by the ferry being kept in perfect control by a Yorkshire chap gritting a pebble under his boot - they were all in hunting mode. The ferry does not take long but it is truely 'Over the sea to Skye' and is a community ferry and everyone should travel on it at least once in their life.

I tried to get to the Three Chimneys for lunch buit it was closed when I got there so ended up with a passable fare at the Dunvegan Hotel before heading to Uig and the Fairy Glen. The Glen is not signposted but is opposite the folly tower and down a one way street then opens out into a fairyland of rock pillars and ribed hills. Quite magical even in the pouring rain.

The Plockton Inn had a great wheeze of dinner, although I am convinced on the health and safety issues. You cook your own food on 400 degree slabs which you get warned will burn you badly if you touch them - and you throw scallops on the slabs and guess when they are cooked. Fortunately this mix is also combined with alcohol so it was a miracle we got to bed in one piece.

In the Plockton hanger and fuelled by Gordon's birthday cake I decided to mount an assualt on Dun Caan on Raasay, the highest spot on the island and a notable plateau. The postman was waiting for the ferry as we rolled on and rolled off at the pier on Raasay. There is a single road through Rassay and I stopped for lunch at the Isle of Rassay hotel which was doing a passable imitation of the Marie Celeste. Completely empty everywhere I managed to read the maps and thought I would find a shop for food later on.
I reached the end of Calum's Road (he built it over 10 years when the council refused to build him a road to his croft, now immortalised in a book and a great piece of music by Capercaille) with nowhere to buy provisions for the walk. I still had some sweets rolling around on the floor of the car and a piece of Gordon's birthday cake left. I took an empty Lucazade bottle to fill up in a lochan and marched on up the path which was now a wee stream.

It is a very pleasant walk but the surprise, apart from finding that when you reach the top there is a bloody valley you have to traverse down to a reservoir to climb up again to the summit of Dun Caan, is the view from the top. Magnificent - Skye of course to the south and west, Rona to the north and the mainland to the east. Wonderfully clear and great cliffs too. Kim flew over in Gordon's microlight before heading southward. Finally a flying day! I romped down and drove down in time for the 5pm ferry over to the mainland so I could book into my hotel on Isleoransay in the south of Skye ready for my sea kayaking course the next day. Exhausted form the day I retired early after some superb seafood chowder and Skye ales and slept soundly in room 56 (which turned out to be room 5 and 6 joined together!)

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