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.
Thirty years ago on May 18, 1996, I climbed Ben More on the
Isle of Mull, the first summit on a walk over all the 517 Munros and Tops -
mountains and subsidiary summits in the Scottish Highlands over 3,000 feet/914.4
metres in height. The walk ended 118 days later on Ben Hope, the northernmost
Munro, after around 1770 miles/2850 km and some 575000 feet/175260 metres of
ascent.
Champagne on Ben Hope with Chris Brasher. September 12.
I did the walk because I love long-distance walking and I
love the Scottish Highlands. I’d wanted to do all the Munros on one walk since
reading Hamish Brown’s superb account of the first ever such walk, Hamish’s
Mountain Walk. Adding the Tops made the walk more interesting and
challenging – especially in the planning. Whilst there were guidebooks to the
Munros there were none to the Tops and, as I was to discover, few paths.
On Schiehallion. June 19.
This long-distance walk was different to others I’d done
(and have done since). All previous walks had been linear ones with the option
of varying the route according to the weather, the terrain, or just how I felt.
As long as I walked the whole way between the start and finish I’d completed
the walk. This time I’d committed myself to visiting 517 summits along the way.
The walk would only be a success when I’d stood on every one. That meant my
route looked like tangle of spaghetti thrown on the map, zigzagging in every
direction.
Camp high on Stob Coire Easain. July 17.
Camping is an essential part of long-distance walking for me.
I go to spend as much time in wild places as possible, to immerse myself in
them, to feel I’m living there. Staying there at night is an essential part of
this. My memories of the walk are as much about the camping as the walking.
Camp in upper Glen Tilt. June 21.
The weather was cool, wet, and windy, with rain at some
point on 64 days. I was often in mist. Navigation required care (no GPS back
then) and my compass was in regular use. Even so it was clear on 343 summits
and only cloudy on 174.
Loch Nevis appears below the clouds on the descent from Sgurr na Ciche. August 1.
Sunny days came and went. Just once there were six in a row, during which I walked from Ben Alder to Ben Nevis, traversing the Grey Corries and the Mamores.
Windy on Meall Ghaordaidh. June 4.
Whilst rain and mist weren't welcome it was very strong winds that caused problems, at times forcing me down from the summits. When I couldn't stand up it was time to retreat.
Escaping high winds under the Shelter Stone in the Cairngorms. July 4.
Bothies and shelters gave respite from the stormy weather in places and I used these on fourteen nights.
Above the clouds on Creag Leacach. June 25.
Some of my strongest memories are of days when the mists sank down into the glens and I was walking above them in sunshine and days when the skies cleared at dusk and the sky turned red and gold as the sun set.
After sunset on the Five Sisters of Kintail. August 11.
The weather meant I had fewer high mountain camps than I'd hoped, most being below 1000feet/300 metres. One of the few high ones came just four days from the finish when I camped not far from Seana Bhraigh and watched a spectacular sunset.
Sunset from a high camp. September 8.
The images here are scans from some of the images from the
60 rolls of transparency film I took during the walk.
After the walk I wrote a book, The Munros and Tops. It’s
still in print if you’re interested in reading more about my adventure.
A few more camp pictures.
On the slopes of Carn Dearg, Ben Nevis in the distance. July 16.
I have an unusual gear feature in the latest TGO magazine. Rather than a review of any particular product it's an opinion piece on packs and, in particular, what features I really don't like. More conventionally I also review the Patagonia R1 Air Fleece Vest.
Also in the gear pages Lara Dunn and Peter Macfarlane each review three daypacks and Gemma Palmer and Peter Macfarlane each review three pairs of trail running shoes.
In the main features there's a look at a dozen of the best ridge walks in the British Hills ranging from Southern England to North-West Scotland.
Ursula Martin describes probably the longest ever book tour on foot - a 1600 mile circuitous bookshop linking Land's End - John O' Groats walk to promote her latest book One Woman Walks Europe.
The great mountain and climbing photographer John Cleare sadly died last year. John's editor Deziree Wilson, who was working with him on his memoir Cleare Perspectives, describes the process of putting the book together in a piece illustrated with some of Cleare's superb photos. This is a book I'm really looking forward to.
Flowers and the Alpine spring are the theme of a piece by former TGO editor Carey Davies as he describes a hut-to-hut walk through the Alps in July.
The issue opens with a stunning photo by Alan Novelli of the rising sun catching early-morning cloud on the Y Gribin ridge in Eryri/Snowdonia.
In the Almanac pages Nadia Shaikh praises the nightingale, I review the Scottish Mountaineering Club's splendid new guidebook, The Corbetts by Rab Anderson, and in a moving essay Kate Armstrong argues that the mountains aren't always a cure-all for mental health problems.
Jim Perrin's Mountain Portrait is Moel Hebog in Eryri/Snowdonia, which he describes as a wonderful peak in sumptuous hill country.
In the Skills section Mountain Weather Information Service forecaster and mountaineering instructor Mehmet Karatay talks about the fascinating science of thunderstorms and how to stay safe from lightning.
In Uphill Struggles Juls Stobel advises a reader addicted to outdoor clothing.
Wild Walks has seven very different routes. James Roddie describes one of my favourites, a circular walk over Meall a' Bhuachaille in the Cairngorms. In a different part of the national park Alex Roddie visits The Snub, Loch Brandy & Glen Clova. The Lake District sees Vivienne Crow on Lingmoor Fell & Side Pike and James Forrest on Gowbarrow Fell. In the Yorkshire Dales Norman Hadley as a stroll through wildflowers on Kisdon and in the Muker meadows. Also in Yorkshire (but not the Dales) Ian Battersby explores Ilkley Moor. Finally in the Peak District shares a classic ridge walk over Chrome Hill.
The Jetboil Stash, launched several years ago, and the new Primus Lite Ultra 0.8L are, as far as I know, the two lightest gas canister stove systems by a long way. By stove system I mean a pot and stove designed to work together and only available as a unit. Usually the pot and stove lock together when in use though this isn't the case with the Stash, which is really only a system because you can't buy the components separately.
I made a little video comparing the two systems, including a boil and gas usage test. Conclusion: the Jetboil Stash is noisy, has little wind-resistance, boils water faster and is more fuel efficient, the Primus Lite Ultra is very quiet, has much better wind resistance, is slower boiling water and uses more fuel. This is just one boil test though. I may get different results next time!
Comparing the pots, both 800ml, I prefer the Stash simply because it's wider and easier to actually cook in and use as a bowl than the taller, narrower Lite Ultra.
On a sunny day in late April I decided to wander up to Cairn
Gorm’s long north ridge and have a look at the abandoned El Alamein shelter,
which lies on the steep bouldery slopes falling into Strath Nethy. I’d visited
the shelter before and I remembered that it wasn’t that easy to find. It can’t
be seen from the ridge, you have to descend a fair way down before it comes
into view and even then from many angles it looks just like a pile of the
boulders that surround it. Only the rusted metal of one gable end is at all
noticeable.
The ascent along the edge of Coire Laogh Mor took me over
many slippery patches of soft snow. They weren’t steep though and there was no
need to get out my ice axe. The sun was hot and there was barely a breeze. Sun
hat, sunglasses, and sunscreen were the most important piece of gear.
El Alamein comes into view. Just visible bottom left.
Starting down the far side to look for the shelter I was
soon in the shade though it wasn’t any cooler. I dodged round several large
snowfields then thought I could see the shelter far below. A little further and
I was sure.
El Alamein
El Alamein was built by the military in 1963, one of three
shelters high in the Cairngorms. After the Cairngorm Disaster of 1971* when six
people died after failing to reach one of the shelters it was decided they
should be removed. Two went, El Alamein remained. Why? Perhaps it couldn’t be
found! More likely it was felt that no-one would ever try to go there anyway.
It’s not on a route to anywhere. There are no paths nearby.
El Alamein with Bynack More in the background
So why is it here? The general view is that it was meant to
be constructed on the ridge above but the builders either misread the map
reference or were given the wrong one. If that’s so they just obeyed orders and
built it here though they must have wondered why. Or perhaps the weather was
stormy on the exposed ridge and they thought they’d drop down to somewhere more
sheltered and ended up here.
Beinn Mheadhoin from El Alamein
Whatever the reason this is where it is, in a splendid wild
situation half way down a rugged mountainside with a tremendous view. If you
wanted to build a shelter as a peaceful haven in the mountains this would be a
perfect spot. I sat outside watching the hills glowing in the late sun.
El Alamein and Bynack More
Like the other shelters El Alamein has a metal framework
with hessian-like material over it for insulation and then rocks piled on top. It’s
quite high inside but there’s not much floor space. Three people could sleep
inside, maybe four at a squeeze. The hessian has now rotted away in places and
some of the rocks have fallen down from the sides, hence the exposed metal at
one end. There are holes in the roof and the walls. I guess it would still
provide a little protection in an emergency. But then I can’t imagine anyone
descending the mountainside and finding it in bad weather.
Cnap Coire na Spreidhe
Leaving the shelter I headed back up to the ridge to watch
the sunset from Cnap Coire na Spreidhe, a subsidiary top of Cairn Gorm. A
bright moon, three days off full, hung in the darkening sky. I descended on the Ciste Ridge path with the deep
red sky spread out before me. Loch Morlich was a shining jewel in the dark
forest. In the distance I could see the lights of Aviemore. Soon I needed my headlamp.
Sunset
View down Coire na Ciste to Loch Morlich
I made a little video of the trip, with a look inside the
shelter.