South Shiel Ridge

Distance: 27.5 miles (44km) Ascent/Descent: 2000m/2000m
Start/Finish: Cluanie Inn, Glen Shiel
Terrain: 30% gravel/surfaced road, 60% good trails, 10% ridge-top, mild scrambling
Transport: citylink bus services Cluanie Inn (Gla/Edi - Skye service)
Route: Route Map

Descending on Maol Chinn Dearg

Summary
A munro-baggers' classic, this ridge of 7 munros lies to the South of Glen Shiel and the road to Skye. After completing the ridge from East to West, the route follows a stalkers path S into the remote Glen Quoich, and with most of the hard work done a great trail-run takes you back beneath the summits along Glen Loyne, then over a small Bealach to the estate road leading back to the Cluanie Inn.

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I'm really glad I went for it. Leaving Cluanie Inn on the road to Cluanie Lodge, with the Loch still and reflecting snowy peaks, my sense of adventure was there but a bit dampened by the expectation that I'd probably encounter ice along the ridge and have to turn back.

A good track leading to the base of Creag a Mhaim

I enjoyed gaining height easily up this gently-graded road above Loch Cluanie, eventually to a 430m Bealach from where I started expecting to find a stalkers' path branching off onto the SE shoulder of Creag a Mhaim. The snow-level was only about 300m above here.

The path did appear on the right just before a little bridge, and it looked nice and gravelly and so very runnable. After a km or so this path forks - I was heading right up onto the ridge, but later today I'd be returning here from the left.

Loch Loyne from the SE ridge of Creag a Mhaim

The path up onto the ridge remained excellent, zig-zagging to take the sting out of the ascent and so I was quickly up into the snow. Surprisingly there were no bootprints in it!

As always it felt good to reach the summit cairn, cloud came down then back up and I was still getting reasonable visibility along the ridge ahead, which at this end is broad.

Druim Shionnach

The ridge doesn't drop much before ascending to Druim Shionnach, and as the snow deepened and ridge narrowed I stopped running and settled into a walk. Snow flurries came and went, but I was cosy in serveral layers and jacket (I also had a full set of spare dry clothes and gloves in the bag as I have a healthy fear of the cold!)

After some mild scrambling I was on the 2nd peak of the ridge and moving on, the NW wind beginning to pick-up as forecast.

Looking back E towards Druim Shionnach

I had a third text-message exchange with my dad, he now knew it was my intention to proceed.

Between the summits I was often back below the cloud base and taking in views down from the ridge, both sides, including back NE to Loch Cluanie. A couple of times I did try to run the less exposed downhill bits but the snow deepened as I headed W and rocks hidden by the snow made it a bit silly. And after the third summit - Aonach air Chirth - the ridge became a bum-cheek scramble along snow and rock. I didn't want to slip here. Fortunately nearly all the snowfall was fresh, and I did not encounter any ice.

Loch Cluanie in the distance

I met a couple of guys walking the other way, they were also surprised at the lack of people on this popular ridge, and said there'd been no other footprints along the way. Well they had mine to follow now, and I had theirs.

Final rise up Sgurr an Lochain (rusty fenceposts!)

The narrow ridge of Maol Chinn-Dearg was a highlight (title photo), being able to see down both sides. It goes over a bump and broadens back out to the summit at 981m, then the ridge remains relatively broad from there as it descends over a subsiduary top down to an 820m Bealach. It was along this section when the air filled with high velocity polystyrene balls. I pulled my hat and hood around such that I could only see with the left eye. I also changed gloves. For the next hour or so I didn't see much other than snow, rock, blizzard, and battered rusty fence-posts which appear along this section. I summitted Sgurr an Doire Leathain, ignoring the quickly-filling bootprints as I remembered to head slightly N from the main spine to find the summit cairn. Next was the penultimate Munro of the ridge, Sgurr an Lochain, which looks like a nice peak in other people's photos but I wasn't seeing much!

The head of Glen Quoich with distant Knoydart hills beyond

Descending steeply from there, I finally got out of the murk and found myself looking across at other mountains and blue sky to the W. The snow became slushy, it was melting fast, and the Munro-baggers' path re-emerged. I got a great view over the head of Glen Quoich to the Knoydart hills beyond.

Looking towards Sgurr Thionail from Bealach a Fraoch Choire

As I was already quite tired, I happily ignored the 896m lump on the ridge and kept to the Munro-bagger's track which by-passes it to the S. This leads to Bealach Fraoch Coire, the lowest point of the ridge. From here I power-walked back up into the snow one last time to reach the lumpy summit of Creag nan Damh, then retraced my steps to the Bealach to pick up the top of an old zig-zagging stalkers' path down (S) into the remote Glen Quoich. This path hasn't been maintained, it was mossy, steep and greasy (yes I had a couple of slips). But it is nonetheless a reasonably safe route down onto the brilliant trail along the glen.

Looking down Glen Quoich towards Gleouraich

I was really glad to reach the river-side track. After the slow progress along the snowy ridge, I immediately enjoyed this very-runnable trail back E, down to Alltbeithe then gently back up to the watershed of the River Loyne.

Looking back (W) up Glen Loyne

There was one last climb to do, which was a left fork back up between the lower slopes of Creag a Mhaim and the 500m lump marked "Craig Liathais" on the OS map. I took a much-needed breather ascending this lump (somehow my phone received a text message here - my dad asking me to update if I had reception which I didn't!). I was grateful to get over this last "hurdle" and be heading back down into civilisation, now able to reply to my dad's text to let him know I just had an easy few miles down to the car. Not the sort of day I'd expected after the recent mild weather, but entertaining for sure.

Foinaven & Arkle Traverse

Distance: 18.5 miles (29.5km) Ascent/Descent: 1650m/1510m
Start/Finish: Loch Stack Lodge to Gualin House Terrain: 30% Good track, 60% Wild, rough, 10% scree/rock
Transport: Car + bikes to get back to car!
Route: Route Map | Garmin Course [coming soon]

Summary
Hidden in the far North West of Scotland are these gems of mountains, modest in height but bold in every other sense. As if the mountains themselves aren't enough, the corries and glens around them are stunningly wild, and a network of trails penetrate the region offering lots of possibilities. The route described here is a summit traverse, but there is so much here that warrants another visit or two, and that's taking into account its isolated location! From the rocky summit ridges, the views over the rugged surroundings are very special, and on the right day stretch over the Minch to the Isle of Lewis. The traverse of these "Corbetts" is a fine, serious day's expedition on the mountains, but requires leaving bicycles at one end to get back to the car at the start (or if you're lucky like me, a helpful support-driver, just be prepared to buy them plenty pints and a dinner in return!) If using bikes I reckon leaving them at the NW end (Gualain House) as its mostly a downhill ride back to Loch Stack Lodge. And no, unlike most of my other entries, this isn't all runnable!

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I wouldn't have attempted this on a poor weather day. Firstly it would be shame to miss out on the reason I was doing it - the views - but additionally I was out on my own (I didn't meet anyone else on Foinaven) and I'd read it could be quite easy for things to go wrong on a bad day. Looking back, I'm especially thinking about part of the ridge of Foinaven, which takes a bit of care when descending and I can imagine I'd have felt a little less "happy" had the rock been wet, the wind blowing hard, and the cloud obscuring an otherwise obvious route down.

From Loch Stack a really good (and cyclable) stalkers path takes one right into the middle of the Foinaven-Arkle country. As I jogged up this, Arkle was there somewhat intimidatingly ahead. The track swings around its Western flank and climbs gently to a high-point, with Foinaven coming into view. That's when I struck SE on ever-steepening ground that looked rougher and boggier than it was. The hillside ahead looked impossibly steep, but it must have been an illusion because the large scree boulders were mostly stable and walkable (no I'm not running at this point!).

I was soon on the summit and took a moment to admire the view over to Foinaven, and of Arkles' other summit, before starting to run along a nice narrow ridge that reminded me a bit of the Carn Mor Dearg Arete as it arced around. Once on the lower summit I started heading SE again, picking the easiest route I could find through the boulders, and around to Lochan na Fabileige, which is perched on a ridge and looks like it might spill into the glen below on a really windy day!
From there it was a rough descent ENE into a peat hags (I probably could have taken a better line sticking to the rocky slabs just to my SE) beyond which I picked up another brilliant landy track. I ran up this and onto the featureless grassy shoulder of Foinaven at Bealach Horn. The views back to Arkle were great, with its folds of bare rock. I returned to a walk now, drawn naturally to the crest of the SSW ridge so I was looking across Coir' a' Chruitier to my eventual onward route over Foinaven - but first I had to circle around the Coire.

Once this was done, and on the 808m peak, the true character of Foinaven was presented, and it started with a steep rocky descent that thankfully looked trickier than it was. Further down was the true test of the day - again everything's fine on a nice day and you take your time. The situation at this point is fantastic, with Foinaven's ridge rising impressively infront and behind, the view of Arkle across the loch directly below, and in the other direction, another ridge of this complex mountain, A' Cheir Ghorm (supposed to be a great ascent route too!) with its wall of orange scree running inwards to join the ridge ahead.

Continuing along the ridge, bypassing the impressive tower of rock, the route is more straightforward and views of the ocean open up again.

I visited both summits of Ganu Mor then my chosen route ignores the final peak to go exploring one of the many corries - Coire Duail. Before descending NE I managed to make radio contact (walkie-talkies!) with my dad who had just parked up at Gaulin House and was going to start making his way up the new landy road into the valley below. It's always a relief to make that first contact!

Traces of path can be seen on the scree ridge heading down, and once onto the wild craggy ground above the E wall of the Coire, there are the odd traces of boggy path again where deer and walkers have been funneled between the outcrops. I picked up the course of the burn that marks an easy way down N into the Coire and its Lochan, taking a last glance at A Cheir Ghorm behind me, and noting the vivid contrast between where I was now and where I'd been.
I put myself on the N side of the burn as soon as feasible and cut the corner slightly lower down to reach the Allt Coire Duail. It wasn't obvious where to cross the fast-flowing water but as I headed a little downstream there was an obvious safe place to jump the big rocks and so I attained a bit of a path on the N bank. When this petered out I just cut across country NNE out of the jaws of the Corrie and picked up the landy track which was followed for 4 miles up to the road, during which I met 2 of the only 4 walkers I'd encountered today. Having lost a bit of fitness lately I didn't have the endurance to run this, so it was a power-walk, but I was so happy with my day I didn't mind it. We got back to Durness campsite which had been home for the last couple of days and was home for the next couple of days. A fantastic area to spend a long weekend camping and exploring.

Southern Upland Way: St. Johns Town of Dalry - Wanlockhead

Distance: 33.8 miles (54.5km) Ascent/Descent: 1540m/1210m
Start/Finish: St. John's Town of Dalry to Wanlockhead
Terrain: 15% road, 75% rough single track (mostly but not always easy angled), 10% forest track
Transport: Good luck! There are limited buses to both start/end, but Sanquhar-Dalry better served via Dumfries. Bus travel will necessitate overnight before/after.
Route: Route Map | Garmin Course
Southern Upland Way Stages: Prev [1] [2] [3] 4 [5] [6] Next

Summary
Refreshingly desolate!? This is a great section to do if you were in the rat-race Monday to Friday. The way tends to keep to higher ground, giving lots of views, but bleak and exposed on the dull day I did it (for a nicer opinion check out this blog). Wind farms and forestry feature. Logistically tricky, Sanquhar (25 miles from Dalry) has reasonable bus service. Dalry and Wanlockhead have limited service.

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We camped Friday night by the Ken Bridge hotel (just South of Dalry) so we could make the most of a brief weather window in what's been a very unsettled few weeks of strong S.Wly's and accompanying rain. It was a perfect night for camping by the river, no nasty midgies (being May) and the air was still, mild and the sky clear - when its like this I wouldn't swap a tent for a hotel room. That evening the bar and restuarant were buzzing, the staff friendly and the beer good. An early start meant we'd packed up and eaten porridge by 7am, and shortly we were up in Dalry ready to explore the Southern Upland Way.

The weather forecast had been for a bright start, with showers moving in followed by more persistent rain by late afternoon. But even whilst packing up the tents earlier, the sky had looked a little steely for my liking and the higher summits nearby were already draped in black cloud.

I started the run from the main junction in Dalry heading up the near-deserted main street and steadily gaining height from the outset. Once away from town the S.U.Way becomes little more than a sheep-trod through numerous rough-grazing fields and bogs therein, but the elevated position provides panoramic views of the Galloway countryside. Even within 3 miles of Dalry, the route already felt very lonely.

It's probably worth mentioning my spirits weren't as high as they usually are setting out on such a run today - not merely due to lack of sunshine, more due to the long-term hip/glute injury I've been carrying which was more pronounced than usual on this occasion and badly affecting my gait from the start. I nearly stopped after 8 miles. Some might (rightly) say I should have, given the remoteness of the subsequent 17mile section. As I crested Culmark hill I could see down into the valley of the Water of Ken and spotted my car parked near Stroanpatrick Farm. I'd expected to have met my dad doing his walk the other direction by now, and wrongly concluded he must have been more tempted by the route North from the rendezvous point towards "Manquhill Hill" instead. Turns out he was still in the car and had sat waiting patiently - uninspired by the early hour and the gloomy skies, it seems we were both a tad affected today! (Note to self: Stronger coffee and less porridge next time we camp to get an early start - no need to blame the beer the night before).

"I'm struggling" I told him.

"I know, I could see you coming along the road. You're leaning to one side and dragging your foot along".

I was also going much slower than usual - loss of fitness after nearly two months of resting/recovery, and the nagging ache that reminded me I couldn't risk bounding over bogs and burns in the manner I'm so used to enjoying.

Thankfully my dad was going to get his walk in after all - partly through concern for my health he decided to drive on to Sanquhar and start walking back towards me along the route of the way.

As the car drove off, the valley felt even more lonely than before, the clouds seemed more threatening (I could see rainfall in the not-too-far distance) and if I'm honest I had a sense of vulnerability that I'm just not used to.

The route took to the rough grassy hillside, gently climbing by stone walls, through a couple of bogs and gates, and I had to pay attention to where I was going because the way-marker posts weren't always obvious or indeed present! A feature of the "thistle-sign" posts along todays route is that they were all rather weather-beaten and sorry-looking, so I daresay I missed a few that had long been felled by the wind.

I recognised the hillside I was heading for from the blog I head read. (Of course the plantation pines were a little taller now than in 2003!). It was actually a relief to get onto steeper ground as my "disability" isn't so pronounced on the climbs.

At 421m, the grassy top of Manquhill Hill isn't too much higher than the valley beneath it (200m), but high enough to open up new aspects of the surrounding heavily forested area. The corbett "Cairnsmore of Carsphairn" (797m) dominates to the NW. Its hard not to use the word lonely again to describe this region - I still had 15 miles to get to the next hub of civilisation, and it was mostly going to be on similarly rounded hills divided by forested, uncultivated and barely-populated valleys. I only met two other people on "the way" today, one of them was my dad.

With Manquhill behind me I was now face-to-face with the bulk of Benbrack Hill. You can tell someone's been careful when planning the forest plantation around the route here, not to inhibit the views from the route, for which I was grateful. Shuffling up Benbrack Hill I took a breather and had a good look around, noticing the cloud was now skimming the summit above. The spits of rain that had been hitting me became harder to ignore and the wind picked up and cooled me down very quickly - time for the jacket.

Higher up, as the gradient began to level off, it was nice to see another human being coming down towards me. His first words were "are you fell-running the whole way?".

I clearly look as stupid as I am.

He was walking from Polskeoch (a bothy about 5 miles further into these hills) to Dalry (12 miles behind me), admist his 3 week backpacking hike along the way. I had a hunch that his beard was more than 3 weeks growth. As I continued up into the cloud I thought how I'd love to be doing the multi-day backpacking thing again (and possibly soon will be if my hip/glute issue is there to stay).

At the top of Benbrack stands one of the "Striding Arches", and as I jogged passed it I nearly started descending the wrong way off the hill. You're supposed to take a sharp left turn by the fence here and I probably missed an arrow on a post somewhere.

My running was a little smoother now and my mood lifted as I got back below the cloud and saw the way ahead over the next hills. I was back to enjoying doing what I enjoy, and feeling a little lucky that the rain had passed and hadn't just settled in for the day.

Surprisingly, running through forest was the exception rather than the rule today, and so it was quite a pleasant change to be routed into the trees along a heathery firebreak, arriving at Allan & Gracie's cairn (victims of the "killing-times" late 1600s). A peculiar spot, and yes, "lonely" again.

The way eventually drops down (through presently-felled forest) to the high watershed of several burns on which sits Polskeoch Bothy hidden by sitca spruce until the last few strides. I had a "nosey" inside, unsurprisingly empty and carrying the usual bothy smell, but in great condition. I leafed through the last couple of entries in the log, and couldn't help but feel the seclusion that S.U.W. hikers must feel here, especially if they'd covered the 17miles I'd just logged from Dalry (after numerous other days in remote places).

The bothy felt no less remote for being half-a-mile up the glen from Polskeoch Farm (B&B), proudly flying the Saltire. The farm sits at the terminus of a single-track tarmac road leading back down the Scaur Glen in search of civilisation. The way follows this road down for 2.5miles, and whereas in the past I'd have enjoyed striding out down the tarmac for a bit, today I was grateful to get back off onto the grassy hillside, enjoying a justifiably slower-pace as the trail gently climbs above the glen. Actually this was my favourite stretch of today's run, partly because the hillsides weren't cloaked in monotonous spruce, and also the grassy undefoot conditions were so pleasantly runnable, the way gaining height gradually and providing views both down the valley and back to where I'd been earlier.

I would soon be able to see down the otherside of "cloud hill" into upper Nithsdale and civilisation! As I noted from other's accounts of walking the way, you see Sanquhar a lot sooner than you reach it. My dad was on his way up from there, and we met about 3miles above town. I was glad he did get a walk in before the weather deteriorated as forecast.

My supportive dad squinting into the gale (Sanquhar behind)

I continued down into town, located the car as had been described (although I lost my Southern Upland Way by the river), and guzzled some water with half a nuun tablet. I felt great considering, and only had 7.4miles to go to Wanlockhead. Given the short distance remaining I decided to head off without the pack and really enjoyed the immediate feeling of lightness as I headed out of town and back up into the hills.

I was now entering the Lowther Hills, and what was particularly nice was being able to look back over town at the range I'd been running through earlier. I was really enjoying this now, even though the hills ahead were dark and the clouds upon themeven darker. I'd taken my jacket with me and was way-too-warm at first but knew that would change as I climbed back up above 400m. I stopped and took once last look behind me over Nithsdale before dropping down the remote side of the hill into a den with an abandoned farmhouse labelled "Cogshead" on the map. With only 3.5miles to go, and with my over-enthused pace, I "hit the wall" as marathoners know-it and started to struggle as the route climbed back out of the den almost summiting the 515m Glengaber Hill, the wind and light-rain really buffetting me now. I managed to keep the run going though, and was glad to be dropping down to the Wanlock Water beneath the scars of bygone lead-mining. The gusts of wind twice brought me to a standstill, and I was dizzy with low blood-sugar, but Wanlockhead was now in sight and soon I was enjoying a pot of tea and some soup with my dad in the Mining Museum Cafe.

Southern Upland Way Stages: Prev [1] [2] [3] 4 [5] [6] Next

Anoach & Rannoch

Distance: 28 miles (45km) Ascent/Descent: 1820m/1870m
Start/Finish: Dalwhinnie to Rannoch Stn
Terrain: 40% gravel/surfaced road, 30% hillside, 30% ridge-top trails
Transport: train stations at start/end. citylink bus services both places
Route: Route Map | Garmin Course

Summary
One of my first ever "ultra-distance" runs was from Dalwhinnie to Ft. William - accompanied by a chap Mike Thompson as part of our training for the West Highland Way race back in November 2008 (see photo below). And what a fantastic introduction to long distance routes - from the very remote Ben Alder Forest to the much more populous but very scenic Glen Nevis. The route described in my blog below follows the same good track as far as Loch Pattack, but for added stupidity I took in the "Anoach Four" ridge of Munros to the North of the Bealach Dubh, dropped down to the Bealach then went Munro bagging again on my way down to Rannoch. The sensible way is of course to camp or stay in Culra Bothy or Ben Alder Cottage en-route. And/or use a bicycle.

(A Wintery Ben Alder during Dalwhinnie-Ft. William run, Nov 2008)

Blog
Again I was teamed up with my dad for another weekend of outdoorsy madness. We drove to Pitlochry Station with unstable clouds above, as forecast, but the day promised to deliver fine views when you weren't up in the clouds, or getting soaked by every kind of precipitation known to man.
Nice to meet cyclists and other walkers waiting for the train. My dad was driving off to a point near Rannoch Station, he was doing his first "Solo" climb of a Munro for years (Carn Dearg) and I was hoping to catch up with him much later on during his descent, all things going well. We had a walkie-talkie each.

I was a bit confused on disembarking the train at Dalwhinnie as the sun was shining - that's not what usually happens here. Jogging back over the railway tracks and onto the NW shore of Loch Ericht, I got the much-anticipated feeling of "heading out into the wilds", and it felt damn good. Of course, the estate landy track is very much a road these days so its hardly wild at all - but as you walk, pedal or in my case run down it, you know that the place it takes you is very remote and embraced by some fine mountains and corries.

The track eventually (6-7miles) climbs gently away from the loch then descends towards Loch Pattack - those not heading for the Anoach Ridge would most likely turn-off the path onto a lesser track directly towards Culra Bothy and the wonderful Bealach Dubh beyond.

As I passed the curious estate ponies, I noticed the hillside beyond Loch Pattack became psychedelic. I was looking through a very low-angled rainbow - lots of sunny rain going on today.

Its little credit to the imagination of those tasked with naming Scottish mountains that both my first and last hill of the day were "Carn Deargs". Red Hill. My route choice onto the ridge of Carn Dearg No. 1 was a tad unorthodox (if orthodox is defined by the SMC books or munro-bagging websites), in that I decided to abandon the track at the top of Loch Pattack and pick my way up through the heather, moving from one burn to the next trying to find the easiest ground. This worked out ok as the going wasn't too steep until higher-up, by which point I was on exposed, windclipped terrain and knew I could look forward to much easier running from then on! In theory. In practise, it was me who got windclipped, and I was very quickly putting on hat, gloves, and after spinning around like a dog chasing its tail I finally got my other arm into the goretex too. The mountain forecast had warned of extreme gales and severe windchill, and snow on the summits, and possible thunderstorms, and for the likes of me and my dad the intent of such warnings never fully sink in until we're sober and 850m up a 1100m mountain and unable to individually move our fingers. The cloud was rushing past just metres above my hood. Was I still having fun? Not as much as I had been earlier, due to a bit of dread about trying to run into that cold gale along a high-altitude ridge for the next 5 miles. I soon cheered back up again, because after ascending into the cloud, picking up traces of Munro-baggers path, then cresting the boulder-strewn summit of Carn Dearg, the cloud lifted to reveal a stunning view of Lancet Edge and Ben Alder's Short and Long Leachas, all in partial sunshine (title photo). Even the conical Schiehallion could be seen, and later today the knobbles of Glencoe - visibility was excellent between the clouds and the squalls. (Hint: Don't look for the knobbles of Glencoe on a map).

I was grateful for the shelter afforded by the mass of Gael Charn ahead, so I stopped and admired the situation and enjoyed feeling my fingers again. Loch an Sgoir beneath me, Lancet Edge beyond, Long Leachas beyond that.

My route ahead looked inspiring, with a narrow waterfall cutting its way down the cliff to the left like a strike of lightening, two lochan-filled corries glimmering beneath me, one to each side, and a stony ridge ahead which I was chuffed to manage to run up without resorting to a walk. Just before I was back in the cloud I could see I was now above Lancet edge, and level with the banks of old snow. Very quickly I was upon the plateau, and glad to let the Garmin keep me on a bearing straight for the summit cairn about 1/2 mile away, surrounded by small drifts of fresh snow at 1132m.

Again the cloud was kind enough to lift briefly for me, and I could see Anoach Beag ahead, and Beinn Eibhinn beyond. Fortunately the uphill bits were sheltered from that wind so it wasn't as tough as I feared, and I was getting a lot more views and sunshine than I'd expected today.

I got briefly disorientated on descending Beinn Eibhinn in cloud as the ridge curves subtly Northwards and although I'd cut off to the left I was actually still running more W, not S like I imagined. My excuse is I was too busy picking my way through the boulders! But at least I got an unexpected view of forest above Fersit and the reservior once beneath the cloud, which fortunately I recognised as not being Loch Ossian! I corrected my course, apologised to my garmin for ignoring it and descended rapidly into much warmer climes of the Uisge Labhair glen. I took an overdue drink from a burn and refilled the hydration bladder from it, along with a Nuun tablet. Got down to the river, decided the best way across was to get wet feet so just waded through it then started piking my way S and SW up the hellishly heathery slopes of Sgor Choinnich. Bad route choice. I was heather bashing, and after 21miles of running I no longer had the strength to keep it going so was reduced to a walk-jog-gasp-look-at-the-scenery-a-lot-more method of progress. Once back onto the windclipped higher hillside (and putting the goretex back on as the rain came down) I was able to get into a shuffling jog again but it wasn't as enjoyable as before - I was burning fat now, and last night's bottle of Leffe. I could see Carn Dearg No. 2 in the distance. Walkie talkies work best with line-of-sight so I decided to try make contact with me dad. Contact made - he was sheltering at the summit cairn, good on him! He was also cold so he said he'd start his descent back S along the ridge towards the car parked at the base of "the Road to the Isles". It was re-assuring to make that contact though, and know we were both okay.

Briefly back into cloud for the last time, I ascended the "top" of Sgor Chonnich then took a run at the shapely Sgor Gaibhre, reaching the top with relief rather than elation.

Certainly felt good to be stretching the stride back out down the other side, W towards Mam Ban (thank you Wham). Rain showers, still accompanied by sunshine, now turned to hail as I made my way onwards to Carn Dearg No. 2 where my dad had been radioed earlier.

The hail passed and it was much nicer to us from then on. I made good progress down the ridge and soon caught up with my dad, who seemed to have taken my hip injury off me. We made our way safely off the hill from there after a very long, testing, but satisfyingly adventurous day out in the Scottish wilds.

Southern Upland Way: Wanlockhead to St. Mary's Loch

Distance: 40.7 miles (65.5km) Ascent/Descent: 1750m/1920m
Start/Finish: Wanlockhead - Tibbie Sheils Inn
Terrain: 'Real' hill-running in places (i.e. bog, pathless, gradient, higher summits), some rough trails, but a lot of easy running (road/forest track) too.
Transport: SPT/Stuarts have a good service No30/31 to Wanlockhead from Lanark Station. There's no regular Service to St. Marys Loch (see note below).
Route: Route Map/Profile | Garmin Course
Southern Upland Way Stages: Prev [1] [2] 3 [4] [5] [6] Next

Summary
This is a tough 40 mile section along the way. It doesn't just have a bit of everything, it has a lot of everything! Of interest is the fact it contains the highest point of the route (Lowther Hill 725m), and also crosses Scotland's Watershed - the true West/East divide. If like myself you're running the S.U.W. over multiple stages, an easier alternative (with public transport servicing the termini) is to split this section at Beatock/Moffat, and then run Beattock to Traquair another day (13 miles beyond Tibbie Shiels).

Blog
Going against the grain of my previous two outings on the Southern Upland Way, I chose to go West to East this time. A generally iffy forecast with gale-force winds made it clear which way would be more enjoyable. I also wanted to finish this in daylight, and tackling the Lowther Hills first, whilst fresh, made more sense.

I felt the usual pre-run excitement as I parked up in Wanlockhead. I got the feeling my dad didn't envy me as I leaped out of the car into the breezy February air (it wasn't the sort of day you can just "step" out of a car!). He was off geocaching down the old road towards Moffat, and we'd arranged a rendezvous point at an old bridge somewhere past Moffat around 1:30pm.


Wanlockhead deserves much more attention than it got from me today. I was on a bit of a mission here, by choice, it was going to be a tricky balance between running gently enough to enjoy my day and appreciate the surroundings, and also getting to the pub before darkness (now there's incentive!). Sure I had my new Myo headlamp with me but that's not the point.

The route starts climbing immediately from "go", and so I warmed up nice and quick and found myself very quickly in "the zone", a nice rythym going up to the summit of Lowther Hill with its military golf ball on top. Then it was into cloudy lonliness down the otherside.

As the cloud rolled back I got a nice view down the jaws of a fairly dramatic-looking pass which I've since learned to be "Dalveen Pass" on the A702 above Durisdeer.

I would eventually meet the A702 once the way had done a big-dipper over another "Lowther" hill, turn NE along a squelchy ridge then drop down to a farm. A short section of the way follows this road, but traffic is light, there's plenty of room, and actually I enjoyed stretching the stride out for a bit. Then back off into rough land to cross a river and pick up an easy flat trail, eventually track, towards Daer Reservior.
The route seems to have changed since my map, the marker posts now guide you up onto the dam, all very pleasant, then straight up the steep hillside which took me completely by surprise! The route arcs over rounded, windswept slopes to 561m Hod Hill, taking the line of a fence. Again the going was squelchy (although there were flood warnings across Scotland this weekend after a stormy few days), before dropping steeply into Ae Forest. I just wanted to enjoy charging down the hillside, which I did at first, but unfortunately it got tricky lower down with up to several inches of mud/water and fallen trees to negotiate. At certain points the Way could have been mistaken for a burn. Welcome to Dumfries and Galloway!

I passed the sign for a bothy (Brattleburn)- hidden somewhere up in the trees off the route I guess, then another climb up a fire break but never steep, and even with all these trees around I could sense civilisation was near. (See picture of bridge - the Southern Upland Way is the river on the left). Soon I came upon a nature-trail way-marker, then some walkers on it, then finally a carpark at the top of Crooked Road.

That section had been tougher than I thought so I was a fair bit behind schedule for meeting up with my dad at 1:30pm. I hate schedules - they should be banned at the weekend! Anyway, I picked up the pace and to be honest enjoyed doing so, it was downhill tarmac with great views over Annan Dale and Moffat. I could already hear the M74. It felt good to get past the M74, and onto a nice lane, another unexpected hillock, then some very pleasant riverside running to Drumcrieff Bridge where my dad was waiting, but thankfully not for too long as I'd arrived on time!
Flask of tea, and loads of junkfood that I could induldge in guilt-free. 20miles to go, again into new territory, and looking forward to it.

It became immediately apparent on departure that I'd been a bit greedy at the car, and my stomach was having to work as hard as my legs. It is a sustained uphill into the forested hillsides anyway, so I just settled into a slow plod for a bit.

There's a lot of forest around these parts, a lot of lonely, hilly, misty wet conifer forest. Hello, is there anybody in there? No other walkers/runners/cyclists that's for sure. The hills seemed to have huddled around me and there didn't seem an obvious way out that didn't involve a lung-busting climb.

The scenery improved significantly as a waymarker put an end to the forestry road and took me onto nice grassy singletrack beside a tumbling burn, progressing out of the trees and into a wonderful den of steep hillsides at the head of Selcoth Burn. Probably my favourite part of the day's run (see title photo) it wasn't long before I was at the East/West watershed, marked by a fence, a style, and a sign welcoming me to the Scottish Borders (and Dumfries and Galloway for those heading the other direction).


Then down to another bothy, a very tidy looking and accessible bothy, before reaching the top of the tarmac road that I'd be following for about 7 miles down the glen of Ettrick Water. It was pleasant enough to run down this - probably a bit of a drag to walk - and the only car to pass me was when I was 100m from the style that would take me back Northwards up into the hills for one last time, just five miles to go to that pint by the loch.

I managed to keep a shuffling run up the steep hillside, then a nice track was reached that followed a very pleasant, gently-angled gully N towards Scabcleuch Moss (now there's a name!). With over 35 miles in the legs I had finally descended into "just get there" mode, yet I must have been paying attention because I took quite a few photos (unless they were just excuses for a rest). As usual there was one final dip and rise to negotiate before reaching the top of a dirt road that descended to the loch and the well-earned pint of Guinness.

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The Minigaig Pass

Distance: 29.5 miles (47.5km) Ascent/Descent: 1160m/1260m
Start/Finish: Kingussie to Blair Atholl
Terrain: 70% gravel/surfaced road, 30% Remote moorland, bog, sometimes pathless
Transport: train stations at start/end. citylink bus services both places
Route: Route Map | Garmin Course

Summary
This route isn't dramatic by any means, but would appeal to those who seek wild, remote country, and a bit of a challenge of course. If running, forget about it until Summer/Autumn. I've read that in Winter it is a much more serious undertaking as the 880m pass is likely to be deep under snow. Even in Summer, there isn't much evidence left that this once served as the main route North to Inverness! The route crosses high featureless (and somewhat pathless) moorland which I'd imagine is probably more often in cloud than not, so navigation skills essential.

Blog
Forecast was for the low cloud to gradually clear during the day, and a freshening N wind - perfect. I drove up to Blair Atholl station, bought some supplies at the wee shop then sat in the sun waiting for the train, really excited about the day ahead. Disembarked the train at Kingussie and started running immediately E away from town and past the Ruthven Barracks along a road. The road was quiet, but it was still nice to escape the tarmac via a gate on the right, heading off on a track through the heather towards Glen Tromie.

Once around the corner and down into Glen Tromie, my route rejoined a narrow road, no traffic, providing me with a fast route into remote country.
After 9 miles the tarmac finishes and on top of a steep rise I stopped to look South straight down into Gaick Pass. Scenically this looks more impressive than Minigaig due to its gouged-out features, and would be a great option for a cyclist. But today I wanted a wilder route, and got it a bit more than I expected at first - the gravel road finished at a weir and I was either bashing through heather along rabbit-runs or squelching in the marshy river-course. After a few minutes I got fed up and clambered up the steep bank, clawing at the heather until onto the flatter ground above, and was delighted to find myself on a bit of a trail. I soon lost the trail and ended up back down by the river, making very slow progress jumping burns, one eye on the Garmin navigation screen which had me heading up the Minigaig direction before I realised it.

Although not particularly steep, it was quite hard work, especially at first. Eventually I did get onto what resembled an old drove road, but it kept disappearing into bog and not re-appearing on the other side. I was quite happy though, I took a couple of breaks to really enjoy where I was, there was a nice feeling of wilderness here. Cloud was scudding the hillsides a little above me.

Higher up the route becomes more obvious for a mile or so. It was a nice moment to reach the summit and see blue sky appearing around. Although the route disintegrates once again, there are tiny quartz cairns marking the way down to an idyllic high camping spot (see heading picture). From there the trail improves significantly, and is an enjoyable undulating run for a few miles before descending steeply into Glen Bruar.

I've walked the estate road down Glen Bruar in the past and found it a bit of a drag, but it does make for very fast, enjoyable running.

When I got down to the ford with only 5 miles to go I stopped and had a wee chill-out. What a great place to be on a warm sunny day. After hammering down the glen my legs were a bit slow to get moving again, uphill at first as the way takes a more direct line for Blair Atholl. The reward is a fun final few miles down into the trees above Blair, past the castle, and back to the station.