The Moray Way: some thoughts & pictures

First camp, on Dava Moor on the Dava Way.

The Moray Way is a 100 mile/160km walk linking the Dava Way, the Moray Coast Trail, and the Speyside Way. Forres on the coast is usually the starting point for the walk. However, as I live just a few kilometres from the Dava Way at Grantown-on-Spey it seemed logical to start there. Indeed, for the first time ever I set out on a long walk from my front door. Living so close by I really should have done this many years ago.

Crags at Huntly's Cave near the start of the Dava Way

The walk took a week. I camped on five nights, stayed in a hotel on one (in Forres). The weather ranged from cloudy and windy at the start to hot and windy at the finish. There were only a few light showers of rain. 

The Dava Way follows the old railway line from Grantown-on-Spey to Forres. This is the high point at 1052 feet/321 metres. All downhill from here!

With only a few days between finishing the walk and heading down to Liverpool for the annual Outdoor Trade Show I've barely had time to download my photos and videos, let alone process and edit them. Here are a few that show the different landscapes long the route. After my return from Liverpool I'll write longer pieces and post more pictures from each section of the route plus post a video or two.

The vast open space of Dava Moor covered in a white swathe of cotton grass.

The Divie Viaduct takes the railway line from Dava Moor into gentler, greener, fields and forestry.

Spring colours in a cutting on the Dava Way. The bright yellow of gorse was the colour of the walk.

One of the first views of Findhorn Bay on the Moray Coast Trail. The walk from the finish of the Dava Way in Forres to Findhorn on roads and roadside footpaths is not recommended!

A pine tree on the edge of sand cliffs above Burghead Bay, Moray Coast Trail. The forests of Scots Pine and Corsican Pine are to stabilise the sand and slow coastal erosion.

Second camp deep in the forest sheltered from the wind. Moray Coast Trail.

Beach, gulls, and Burghead. Moray Coast Trail.

The East Beach, Hopeman, Moray Coast Trail.

Heron on the rocks. I saw more birds on the Moray Coast Trail than on the other two sections.

Gorse corridor, Moray Coast Trail. You can't always see the sea.

Magnificent cliffs between Hopeman and Lossiemouth, my favourite section of the whole walk. Overall the Moray Coast Trail is one I would happily do again.

Some of many sea stacks and caves, Moray Coast Trail.

View from a cave to Covesea Skerries Lighthouse.

Camp with tank traps! These second world war defences would have been on the beach but are now stranded a little way inland. I was in the trees to keep out of the wind again.

The line of tank traps stretches out of the trees and along open ground behind some big shingle banks built by the sea. The tank traps line runs unbroken for 5 miles/8 kilometres.

The collapsed viaduct at Garmouth. The Moray Coast Path crossed this to link up with the Speyside Way. Now you have to road walk to Fochabers to reach the next bridge.

Fourth camp with a view of the river Spey and the now distant sea. Speyside Way.

The magnificent Thomas Telford Bridge at Craigellachie. Speyside Way/

Knockando Distillery. There are many whisky distilleries along the Speyside Way and the smell of malt is often in the air.

Fifth and last camp. Right by the river. The Speyside Way isn't often this close.

A green corridor as the Speyside Way follows the line of an old railway.

Endless gates, endless barbed wire imprisoning corridors. I hated this section of the Speyside Way.

Cromdale Station, the last of many old stations on the Moray Way.

Almost home! The bridge over the river Spey at Cromdale. 

Almost To The End: Back On The Cape Wrath Trail

Ben Stack from Lone

Back in June I decided to stop my Cape Wrath Trail walk at Inchnadamph, some 47 miles/75km from the finish, due to an unseasonally cold and windy storm (see here). I didn’t feel like battling into the weather just to reach the end especially as it’s not too far from home so I could easily return later when the weather was better.

Early October looked promising and so it was for a few days but then another big storm blew down from the north. With gusts forecast to reach 55mph/88kph at sea level finding sheltered camp sites would be difficult and walking into the wind arduous. After the first day of this storm I decided retreat was again a sensible choice even though I was only 7 miles/11km from Cape Wrath (plus twice that distance to then reach the nearest road). I will go back again!

The weather was benign when I set off with Tony Hobbs, who’d been with me for the last five days of the June walk, with a mix of sunshine, high clouds, and light breezes. We climbed steadily to the last high pass as you head north, 623 metre Bealach na h-Uidhe, then crossed boggy terrain dotted with little pools and streams. Here we met the only other CWT walkers, a couple heading south to Fort William. They assured us the terrain got wetter and boggier further north and wet feet were inevitable. They were in leather boots, we were in trail shoes. We didn’t expect dry feet. Perhaps they did.

Camp below the Eas a' Chual Aluinn

A steep descent took us down to the Abhainn an Loch Bhig and a camp opposite the highest waterfall in Britain, the Eas a’ Chual Aluinn, which has a 200-metre drop. As there hadn’t been much rain for a while this was a thin tracery of water over the cliffs rather than a tremendous torrent, though we could still here it’s roar and it still looked impressive. We could here other roaring too. This is the rutting season and red deer stags were in full deep-throated cry, a sound that accompanied us throughout the walk. Autumn colours, russet, gold, orange, made the landscape shine, another feature every day.

Loch Beag

The next section of the walk, from Eas a’Chual Aluinn to Loch Glendhu via Loch Glencoul, is one of the most glorious of the whole route in my opinion. It’s not long, around 8 miles/12km, but the going is tough in places and anyway this is not a place to rush through but to savour. This landscape is rugged, rocky, rough and complex, mixing sea and mountain in a wonderful array of forms and patterns. 

The Stack of Glencoul, Eas a'Chual Aluinn, & Loch Beag

Initially the big waterfall and the great rock buttress of the Stack of Glencoul stand out in the views as the route passes along Loch Beag and then climbs above Loch Glencoul to round a promontory. Here the views are of Loch Glendhu and a line of slanting coloured cliffs. 

Loch Glendhu

The boggy path, such as it was, angled muddily down steep slopes through thick vegetation, rocks, and patches of lovely birch woodland to eventually reach the loch shore. Here in places we were walking on seaweed below huge boulders that had come down long ago from the cliffs high above. At the highest tides the path must be underwater here.

Below the high tide mark!

Rain was starting and the wind picking up as we reached Glendhu Bothy so we decided to stay. No-one else was there and from the bothy book it seemed not many had stayed recently. The space and shelter was welcome.

Bothy kitchen

The weather had changed and wind and rain were now the norm for the rest of the walk. The walk alongside Loch Glendhu was pleasant but then the rain began.

Beside Loch Glendhu

I had intended to take the route over 510 metre Ben Dreavie and round the west end of Ben Stack but the summit was in cloud and I didn’t fancy a boggy plod in the mist so we opted to descend to the road at Achfary and pass Ben Stack to the east before wandering along the track by Loch Stack to the abandoned building at Lone where we found a reasonably sheltered site with a view of the fine mountain Arkle rising into the clouds. This was the only day when the walking was on good paths and tracks the whole way.

Camping at Lone

Day 4 of the trip was the opposite and mostly on rough boggy ground with only a poor intermittent path. The wind blew and it rained on and off. We were heading for the road at Rhiconich as we wanted to reach the shop called London Stores to resupply the next day. A long line of narrow lochs linked by streams and with a minor watershed at 77 metres runs almost straight from Lone to Rhiconich. No route finding problems here, just a case of plodding on through the bogs. 

Ben Stack

Above us Arkle and Ben Stack faded in and out of the clouds. Magnificent Foinaven, the biggest mountain in the area, showed itself occasionally too as the day progressed. Iain Harper’s Cape Wrath Trail guidebook says there is a potentially difficult ford of the Garbh Allt in this section but though knee deep it wasn’t a problem. The next day it would have been as heavy rain fell all night.

Fording the Garbh Allt

The boggy ground, as through most of the walk, was deer-trodden and bitten. There were very few trees. I wrote about this back in June re my earlier CWT walk. It applies just as much to this northern section. We had hoped to camp by the Rhiconich River somewhere in the last few kilometres before the road but could nowhere suitable amongst the sodden tussocks. In the end we walked up the road a little then turned off down a track to some sheep pastures that were bumpy but at least dry and somewhat sheltered from the increasing wind.

En route to Rhiconich

Having resupplied at the excellent London Stores the next day we set off for the cross-country route to Sandwood Bay, the alternative being to walk up the road for some 5 miles/8km and then take a track. I don’t like road walking so chose the off-road route. This was a mistake. The way over low moorland hills to Strath Shinary is wet, boggy and rough. The walk down the strath and alongside Sandwood Loch is wetter, boggier, and rougher- some of the toughest walking on the whole CWT. Maybe on a hot sunny day it would seem worth it. In wind and rain it wasn’t. The wind had shifted to the north-east and was strengthening and getting colder. From a weather forecast at London Stores we knew it was meant to gust to over 40mph overnight and then increase the next day. We’d be fighting it all the way to Cape Wrath if we went on.

Sandwood Bay comes into view.

We reached Sandwood Bay at dusk. Finding a sheltered site proved difficult. As we’d decided to head out to the road the next day we started along the path south and found some protection from the wind in a bog by Loch Clais nan Coinneal. It was wet and bumpy but we wouldn’t be blown away.

Rainbow in the rain

The next morning we walked out to the John Muir Trust car park in wind and rain, which were at least behind us. At one point a rainbow curved over the moors. We met two pairs of day walkers heading to Sandwood Bay. Both asked us the same question “is it worth it”?  Yes, I replied, it’s beautiful, even in a storm. And it is.

Camps along the Cape Wrath Trail

One of the main joys with long-distance walking for me is camping in wild and beautiful places. There are many opportunites for this on the Cape Wrath Trail and on my recent walk I had fourteen nights out in the hills and woods. 

I've started sorting through the 420 photos I took during the walk and it's the camping ones that bring back immediate strong memories so here's a few, quickly edited.

The Cape Wrath Trail

 

Pack packed, gear sorted, train tickets bought. In a few days I'll be setting off on the Cape Wrath Trail, making my way from Fort William to Cape Wrath through the NW Highlands.

I've thought about walking this route for many years. I had planned it for last autumn but various things got in the way and I ended up with five stormy days in the Eastern Cairngorms instead. So I'm trying again. 

The Cape Wrath Trail isn't really a trail, at least not in the sense of a continous footpath or even a set route. There's nothing official about it either so no signposts or waymarks. The guidebook and maps do suggest a route, along with alternatives in places, but there's no need to stick to any of these. Walk from Fort William to Cape Wrath through the hills by any route you choose and that's your Cape Wrath Trail. I'm not even certain which route I'll take in places. I may climb some hills along the way. Then again I may not. It all depends on the weather and how I'm feeling.

There are a few sections described in the guidebook I will do as they will be new to me. Much of the route I've already done in small sections as part of other walks and I've been up all the Munros and Corbetts along the way. Maybe I'll go up some of them again. What I want to see is how it unfolds as a continuous walk, how it feels as a whole, how much does it make sense.

It feels good to be setting off on a long walk again, as always. There'll be pictures and stories of course. During the walk at times, probably, afterwards, definitely.

 

My first book was published 35 years ago.

Scott Steiner in camp on the Continental Divide Trail

“Backpacking, travelling in remote places carrying all you need in a rucksack, is a means to freedom, the freedom of the wilderness, a freedom which I have relished over the years and the experience of which I hope to portray here”.

The above words are from the introduction to my first book, The Great Backpacking Adventure, published thirty-five years ago. They’re as true now as they were then.

I enjoyed writing the book, as I have every book since. I wrote it because it was the sort of book I enjoyed reading. My walks had been inspired by books on long walks by John Hillaby, Hamish Brown, Colin Fletcher. I hoped I could entertain and inspire others the way they had me. 

Back then the world was a different place, a much slower place. The electronic revolution was yet to begin. The Internet, GPS, digital cameras, smartphones were all in the future. I wrote the book on an Amstrad computer, bought specially for the purpose, then printed it out and sent it to the publisher along with a selection of transparencies. Remembering that really makes it seem a distant time. Walking in wild places, enjoying and feeling part of the natural world, hasn’t changed thoug

The Great Backpacking Adventure is long out of print. But some of the words I wrote back then seem to ring truer today, sadly.

“Our modern detachment from nature, from the force of which we are a part, our futile attempt to prove ourselves separate from and superior to the ecological system that allows us to live, our view of the world as an enemy to be conquered, and a bottomless treasure chest to be exploited, are the escapist and selfish attitudes that has les us to the brink of the abyss of annihilation on which we are poised. Re-establishing our place in the natural scheme of evolution and the real world is essential if we are to have a future”.

And the final lines:

“I pack a rucksack and head off into the hills to pitch my tent, gaze at the sky, feel the wind and rain on my face, the rocks and earth under my feet and bring my life back to the only thing that exists, the present”.