The Great Glen Way

Distance: 73 miles (117.5km) Ascent/Descent: 1350m/1340m
Start/Finish: Fort William to Inverness
Terrain: Easy throughout
Transport: Train stations at start/end. Citylink bus serves the Great Glen
Route: Map 1 Map 2

Summary
The Great Glen Way is not remote, the route is very well marked and generally low-level with long flat sections by lochs or along towpaths, but there are two or three sustained climbs of note along Loch Ness. There's plenty info online. If I wasn't so much into trail-running I think my mode of choice would be mountain-bike. Or how about the recently added option: Canoe?

Blog
At 5:25am it was still dark. The air was mild for March and perfectly still. Fort William would have been peaceful had it not been for the bloody seagulls.

My dad and I carried the bags from the hotel to the car, and before parting ways we briefly confirmed our agreed "schedule" (still hate that word). The Premier Inn was handy for the Great Glen Way, the start of which I eventually found and so began the long day's journey to Inverness.

On my left was the estuarine mouth of the river Lochy, although I couldn't really see it. On my right the industrial estate gave way to houses and I followed the blue thistle way-markers through them, before being routed off the pavement into some trees. It was good to get away from the road and the orange glow of street-lamps. I followed the beam of the headtorch across rough grassland alongside the river, and began to feel excited about the journey ahead.

I'd had the "Great Glen Way" in mind as a good low-altitude option for this Winter, but it hadn't happened due to a fairly busy racing calendar. I guess that could explain why today my legs felt so sluggish from the outset, but this wasn't a problem, in retrospect I've concluded the enforced slow-pace helped ensure the day's success.

A wooden footbridge took me over the river and back into street-lights, and so the headtorches work was already finished for the day! There was enough daylight entering the sky to outline the summit of Ben Nevis, and by the time I'd run through Caol along the shore of Loch Linnhe to the mouth of the Caledonian Canal, I could see my way no problem.

The way follows the canal's towpath for the next 8 miles. At the bottom of the series of canal locks known as Neptunes Staircase, my dad was standing waiting for better daylight so he could hunt his first geocache of the day.

The hazy day continued to dawn as I jogged alongside the wide mirror-like canal North East. The housing estates were left behind and the hillsides of the Great Glen began to rise up. Ben Nevis with its small patches of snow was still visible over my right shoulder – this really has been a mild Winter. The impressive River Lochy was also on my right, at first it was below the tall embankment of the canal but after a few miles the canal and river came side-by-side with just a concrete sluice separating them. Although pretty, I do find canal towpaths a bit monotonous and was glad to be running rather than walking. It is however a fine place for a bike, and an even better place for a kayak and canoe. Incidentally the Great Glen “canoe trail” was being opened this very weekend!

As planned, my dad was waiting at the picnic area by Gairlochy locks, just 10.5miles into the run. We both commented on the fact it was nice not to be in a race, able to take our time, have a chat, enjoy a bit of a picnic. The weather was playing along nicely. The slower pace meant my stomach could handle whatever, and so at Gairlochy I was enjoying a cafetiere-made filter coffee.

We discussed our next meet-up at “Laggan Locks” another 12 miles up the glen, then I set off just as slowly as I arrived, firstly crossing to the other bank of the canal and following the road North uphill. This next section would take me along the NW shore of Loch Lochy – with Laggan Locks being at the head of the loch.

One of the blue thistle marker-posts directed me off into the trees along a nice gravel single-track path – here followed one of the nicer sections of the way as the path wound through the pines, re-crossed the road then dropped alongside the glassy expanse of Loch Lochy. All the colours were muted with haze and the loch merged seamlessly into the sky. I was reminded a little of the Loch Lomond section of the West Highland Way, but without the crowds, in fact I saw the first Great Glen walker of the day here, who’d obviously camped solo on the shore and was packing up his gear ready to set off. With no houses or roads in sight he’d sure found a cracker of a place to camp.

The trail did re-join the “B-road” and almost immediately a car came along to breach the peace! And then another, and a few more including a forestry van. I realised they were probably on their way to work at the logging area up the loch where I’d read a diversion was “in operation” for walkers (and not suitable for cyclists – which I can totally confirm!).

In spite of the tarmac and light traffic it was still nice scenery, the pines now replaced by birch and bracken. After passing some big houses and crossing the river Arkaig the way leaves the road at Clunes and follows a wide forest track along the steep forested slopes (yes, back to pines!). Here the Great Glen is at its deepest, with two “Munros” hidden from view somewhere above the trees. This was the first time I’d travelled up the glen on the remote N side of the loch - every other time I’ve been in a car along the A82, which unfortunately was still audible across the water. The Great Glen Way is hardly remote – but this section is probably as close as it gets, on the left of me it was just wild country all the way to the equally wild coast.

I said hello to two more walkers along this forest road, and a forest worker, then reached a red/white striped tape across the path and an arrow directing me to the start of the temporary (I hope) diversion.

The diversion was a bit of a monster! Straight up the mossy, twiggy steep side of the forest. The route was marked by both tape and skid marks where victims had slid through the moss on their boots and arse. I power-walked up the diversion and it was over in 10 minutes, with the bonus that I was now 150m higher above the loch with views over the harvested forest, across the glen, and with a fast runnable descent along a dirt road to enjoy.

A couple of miles later at the end of the loch I was reunited with the Caledonian Canal where it enters the loch at Laggan. My dad was already set-up in the picnic area beyond, the stove having been put to good use as there was French onion soup and more filter coffee waiting. Nice.

The next part was what I’d been looking forward to most – 8.5miles from Laggan Locks to Fort Augustus with 4 miles along the “remote” side of the narrow Loch Oich. Even next to the A82 road this is a fine part of the route. At first the way follows more towpath, and “the Avenue” – a nice gravel path through trees, then it crosses the A82 around the back of the “Great Glen Holiday Park” on an access road over the marshy watershed of the glen. Ironically it was downhill to Inverness from here along the canal, but uphill (then down) a few times along the way.

Now following the course of an old railway line, I noticed the remains of a station platform beneath grass and trees. An adjacent interpretation board showed a picture of how this station looked back in 1938 when in use! There are a lot of these tall blue pillars with pictures and text along the Great Glen Way, which is good news for those walking the route, although maybe it would make reading the “guide book” redundant! I personally like to read up on established routes before running them, and especially enjoy other people’s journals/blogs as I get more out of the journey (both before and during).

After taking in Loch Oich and having a last glance South back over its glassy water (title photo) it was onwards past Bridge of Oich where were a group were gathered and preparing for a paddle - the Great Glen Canoe Trail was formally opening today.

After visiting the pretty canal locks of Cullochy and Kytra I arrived at Fort Augustus - passing the now tired-looking Chalet Park where I'd spent my October holiday as a child (and remember wishing my dad would take me up the forested hill with the trig point behind - well I guess he's now making up for not doing so!)

Marmite Crisps were going down a treat - not your typical runner's food but like most ultra runners say its just a case of eating whatever works at the time. A banana (a bit less unusual I guess) was also had. And another filter coffee, which unfortunately is a diuretic. But tasted great. We had a fair break here, I mentioned only 39 miles to go and my dad said "What!?". Even I kind of felt Fort Augustus was half-way, and having now completed the route it still feels like it was half-way, but in terms of both distance and climbing effort it was far short.

It was a bit more difficult to get moving this time after the long break, but the break was worth it for both me and my dad's sake (its not a race!) and a sharp uphill back into forest soon sorted me out. I saw my third and penultimate group of fellow "wayers" here, older chaps with sticks and backpacks, and looking like they were already thinking about their next pint (and if I'd been with them they'd have just finished one before leaving town). The sun was cheering the glen up now, and warming the air quickly. After climbing a little up the side of the glen, a nice view opened out over the head of Loch Ness.

The forest track contoured around the hillside and dog-legging before dropping down into Invermoriston - which I think my dad & I agreed was one of the highlights of the day. Just a nice wee place. Maybe the sunshine helped, but we both enjoyed relaxing at a picnic table by the highland coos, Telford's old stone bridge and the inviting-looking Inn within view. It was also nice to hear from back home where Lesley had run a good time at her first "Park-run".

I'd warned my dad about how I might be feeling during the next bit - a long (14 mile) hilly stint to Drumnadrochit on legs that had already covered over 40 miles. I felt confident enough to text my mate Sandy who lives nearby and let him know I should be there sometime after 3pm if he was still keen and able to meet up.

I gained even more confidence as I hit the steep hillside and found some hidden energy from somewhere - in fact my garmin claimed I'd done a 9-min-mile up this so it wasn't imagined. I'd only just told my dad the key to cracking this next bit (for both of us) was "patience". I had to remind myself this a few times but knew I had a stupid care-free smile on my face, having a "high". I really don't take fitness and health for granted and as corny as it sounds I'm finding at times the trail-running feels like some kind of "celebration of life". Or perhaps those are just the lame words of an endorphin junkie.

Back on Planet Earth there was a long switch-back forest road with a runner on it making his way up to a collection of buildings called Grotaig. The forest track ended and some fun rocky single-track continued downhill then back up, quite steeply, eventually arriving at the aforementioned place where a road terminated with car park. A black Landrover was moving slowly towards me.

It was Sandy! His son David was sitting shyly in the back. We chatted briefly, he'd received my "text" and headed down here to meet-up. He said I was looking well (I had warned him I might have dropped-out before reaching here) and I let him know I did indeed feel fine, understandably tired but still enjoying my day. Originally he'd wanted to run a leg of this journey with me but bad timing on my part denied us. He was still keen to meet back up at Arbriachan Forest (a few miles North of Drum) and so I was soon on may way again, following tarmac on high moorland, taking time to look back at the fine profile of the "corbett" Meall Fuar-Mhonaidh, which I've still yet to climb (perhaps with Sandy one day?).
By the time I arrived at Drumnadrochit I was paying for the speed and the run had become more shuffle-like as I cut across the town car park towards my dad and the ubiquitous picnic table. I was now into the inevitable "countdown" mindset - 18 miles to Inverness (which after 55 miles takes a bit longer than a marathon-training run, and also involved a 360m ascent to the highest point of the way)! Dad mentioned later he could see I was having to psyche myself to get going again. The hardest part was actually taking the jacket back off as it was getting cool sitting around in spite of the sun.

And so ensued a pavement shuffle along the A82 for a mile or two, and the sweat was pouring off again (a good thing!). The trail climbed up above fields away from the noisy road, and I found myself struggling to open and close a plethora of gates. At one of them I stopped for a photo-breather looking back over the loch towards Urquhart Castle.

Back into forest, I knew I was upon the final dreaded climb. I was still able to run most of it as the gradient wasn't too bad, just a couple of short steep pulls lower down. This was the most varied part of the route, I felt, going from loch-side town to fields, then forest, then out onto moorland above the glen. I knew about the "Highest Point of the Way" post from others' reports, and was looking forward to seeing it. I wanted to give it a hug.

I was now in the Abriachan Community Woodland and I can't highlight enough how valuable this place is to walkers on the Great Glen who wish to break up the long 18mile stretch between Inverness and Drum - there's a campsite and a cafe here, and its a really cool place so take note!
Sandy met me as I descended the forest track towards the road, he put David on his shoulders and ran alongside (quite impressive - and David was loving it!). He reminded me it was mostly downhill to Inverness from here, and was going to meet me for a pint there later. Fantastic!
The pint was going to taste amazing after all this. It was only another mile before I met my dad on the single-track-road that would form the route of the Way for the next 3 miles. He'd found a parking space (and a couple of geocaches). And he was so obviously as knackered as me. We'd both been up since silly-o-clock. After more (mmm) marmite crisps and full-fat coke I set about completing the last 11 miles of the journey. I knew that by this stage the idea of running on easy tarmac would be welcome rather than boring, and so it was I logged my fastest miles of the day, now wearing my dad's day-glow yellow top as the sun was now very low. I was surprised to get routed off the road by a waymarker post well before Blackford (obviously a new addition since my map). Then it was an easy run down into Inverness through heather-carpeted forest on a trail that reminded me of Rothiemurchus (Cairngorms).

I got my first glimpse of Inverness from behind a pond. My mobile rang - stopped, then started again. It was Sandy, trying to locate me so we could run the last wee bit of the route after all! We met about two miles from the finish - I'd just descended through the grounds of a Victorian Mental Hospital where they probably would have locked up ultra-runners (particularly vegetarian ones) but fortunately the world is more tolerant these days. After the last stretch of canal for today (running in the direction of Ft. William I might add!) we joined the Inverness half-marathon route beside the running track and stadium - Sandy had just run his PB there two weeks before, and so I bored him with stories of all the PBs I'd run in Inverness and how the track rekindled great memories for me.

We also passed the tree beside the start line where usually in March all the runners huddle together for shelter as bare arms, legs and faces are battered by strong winds and sleet. Timing had been perfect in terms of daylight - we ran over a multi-coloured lit suspension bridge and through the fairly-lights (which Sandy hates) on the island where the outdoor theatre is, then on the final home stretch to the castle. My dad stood shivering. He'd quite rightly already had a couple of pints in the Castle Tavern nearby. After the customary finish photo by the Great Glen Way post, it was time for some beer. The barmaid was a star, seeing me shivering in my inapropriate-for-pub running gear she grabbed a couple of blankets for me. Another cracker of a weekend had - thanks to Sandy and my dad for their support (Sandy had supported my West Highland Way race in 2009).

Glen Isla, Kilbo and Jocks Road

Distance: 42.8 miles (69km) Ascent/Descent: 1970m/1720m
Start/Finish: Blairgowrie to Braemar Terrain: 45% road, 35% trail, 20% forest path
Transport: Buses serve Blair and Braemar
Route: Map | Garmin Course


View towards route of Kilbo Path, taken from 'Glack of Balquhader'

Summary

This was a quick tour of the Angus glens, starting from the lowlands and finishing in the highlands. Jocks Road and Kilbo Path were the highlights.

Blog

It's been a ridiculously mild November. The hills were still snow-free, and this weekend's forecast assured me I had little to worry about weather-wise if venturing out into the hills.

Looking NW over Strathardle from Bonnington Road

Musty autumn leaves, Drimmie Woods

8:45am, at a gravel car-park on the A93 by Blairgowrie, standing not too far from the car, feeling a bit nervous (but in a good way), and as usual waiting for the Garmin Forerunner to get GPS reception. My dad and Lesley had just dropped me off and were soon to be on their way up to Spittal o' Glenshee where we'd meet back up and spend the night celebrating my dad's birthday. I was already looking forward to that part of the day.  Maybe not so sure about this first part, which had been a great idea after a few pints, but not quite so great at 8:45am wearing inadequate clothing in a carpark and about to start. Of course by 10am it was making sense again, as is usually the case, once mind and body has transcended into that parallel universe of ultra-running that doesn't expect stuff to make sense anyway.

A Wintery 'Den of Alyth'

The pack was heavier than usual as I was traveling self-sufficient including emergency stuff for the hilly bits ("proper" waterproofs, spare dry layers and a space-blanket). At least I didn't need to lug around lots of water though - part of the beauty of getting out of the glens and up the Scottish hills is there's usually no shortage of good water supplies!

The climbing started immediately, up Bonnington Road which rises out of Strathmore onto the foothills of the Grampians. The sun was already trying to shine from behind banks of mist, and the air was still, carrying that Autumnal smell of damp decaying leaves and vegetation.
After a couple of miles along the hilly lane, I turned sharp right onto a gravel track through the dark Drimmie Woods where I stopped to remove the thermal and gloves - immediately feeling a lot better and enjoying the cool fresh air against the bare arms and hands. Happier.

I've done plenty running and cycling on these wee lanes around Blair and part of me wanted to push the pace early because as always my interest is in exploring the unfamiliar, or at least less familiar, which today meant the more mountainous second-half of the run. The foot of the glens are still a nice enough place to be though, best enjoyed on a bike. As I dropped back downhill to the Den of Alyth, a red squirrel scurried across the road and made a sporadic rush up a tree-trunk.

Looking up Glen Isla from track N of Kilry

My route continued to follow the empty roads around the Hill of Alyth, first N, then W, before dropping down into Glen Isla and briefly joining the route of the Cateran Trail. Having run length of the Cateran Trail before I wasn't too bothered about following its extra-curricular loops up the hillsides, opting to stay on the tarmac so I could get up to the 'real stuff' sooner. This meant heading for Kilry on another hilly lane.

Beyond Kilry my route rejoined the Cateran Trail N towards Kirkton of Glenisla (ignoring the climb up Druim Dearg) then missing my turning for "Freuchies" and ending up continuing up the Cateran Trail as far as Loch Shandra.  No harm done.  "What's an extra half mile in the day's grand scheme?" I thought.  Probably a better route anyway, less time spent in plantation forest.

With a not-too-shabby easy 15 miles done, I was finally stepping onto new turf (okay gravel) where I'd be heading N through miles of plantation, gently climbing towards a pass (title photo) into the head of Glen Prosen.   Time to celebrate with some tunes.  It was quite a boring stretch, but at least I knew I was getting ever closer to the nice bit.

Symmetry courtesy of Loch Shandra

After an initial climb to 400m the forest road curves around a vague pass and almost doubles-back down into Glen Finlet, where a left branch continues the journey N.  Much of the forest here had been felled.  3 miles later the track finished and a bog with bootprints in it continued into thick spruce, following the course of a burn.  It wasn't long before I was questioning my route, it was that shite, but thankfully after a bit of pussy-footing beside and over the burn, and awkardly negotiating a fallen tree, there was a stile.  Out back into the open, heather abound, a tall sign letting me know I was on a right-of-way.  550m, the top of the pass was another 50m above, I found a vague path heading directly towards the lowest point of the pass, and was glad to finally be able to see the slopes of the Munros 'Driesh' and 'Mayar', between which the onward route of the 'Kilbo Path' climbs.

Looking back down Glen Finlet

Took some water onboard at this pass - adding some energy power to it, and scoffing a banana as I descended down to the River Prosen - picking up traces of path then losing it.. There's a bridge across the river, but I couldn't be arsed going down to it and ended up just walking through the river which turned out to be surprisingly pleasant.  Then took to an estate road just N of a small plantation hoping it would be less muddy than the true 'Kilbo' route that zig-zagged through the plantation.  I was still struggling for traction and getting frustrated as the muddy track headed up the steepening open hillside to a lump marked on the map as Kings Seat.  From there it was less muddy, more grassy and so easier going.  I kept an easy run going all the way up into the clouds, and was surprised when I found myself on the 830m summit plateau and approaching the ex-signpost-now-pole.  The cloud broke briefly then closed back in as I turned more E past the signpost then N again slightly too soon, ending up on the crest of the "Shank of Drumfollow" instead of on the good path descending its E side. The cloud cleared and I decided it had been a nice mistake to make as the views down into the corrie were impressive.  Unfortunately I can't show a photo of this because my camera had become wet (oops) and wasn't working too well.

Descending into the forest along the Munro-baggers path I saw my first walker of the day, a girl who had lost her glove, and then I passed the group she was with waiting further down, and then another group after that, and people walking dogs etc.  Yep I was in Glen Doll.

Descended to the bridge beside the Lodge to get to the start of Jocks Road proper, 14.5miles to go to Braemar, and feeling good.  Although it would be getting dark in an hour.

Jocks Road was what I'd really been looking forward to today - sure I've done all the Munros around it many years ago but never had a chance to experience the pass as part of a point-to-point route.  And running!  I'd been inspired by my dad's photos of when he did this route (jb-greyhairrules.blogspot.com), something about the path climbing up the side of the valley into the clouds.

It didn't disappoint.  I took on a cereal bar and more water as I climbed, it was an excellent trail for running and the scenery was nice and rocky.  I made the same mistake as my dad had on reaching the first crest past the 'Shelter', and continued along the boggy flat trail that headed for the riverbank instead of climbing up to the right towards the true plateau.  Someone had thoughtfully put a line of stones across the path to make people aware, and I thoughtlessly chose to ignore them.

Well not entirely - I think I did start climbing up, the way seemed to be petering-out, and my tired legs and mind conspired to cut back down to the easier option.

My Garmin soon let me know my mistake, and I soon let it know what I thought.  I was still thinking I was on the right path because it was so obvious, and the route I'd drawn from the map was wrong, not the route I'd taken. The cloud level rose above my head for a moment and I could see the wild river glen I was in - just the bottom of it - and then decided it was time to stop the denial and start climbing up the rough hillside and find the real route.  The slope up into the mist wasn't steep but the terrain made it hard work as I tried to angle my way back up to Jocks Road.  After 10 minutes of this I felt the need to take my first and penultimate walking break of the day - only starting to jog again once the heather receded, replaced by wind-clipped tundra, and I knew what that meant!

Indeed I seemed to have reached a stony crest, and was soon back upon Jocks Road.  Having discussed this with my dad since I'm guessing I'd pretty much retraced his footsteps to where he'd celebrated by taking his "Invisible Man" photo.  I found the 920m summit of Crow Craigies, and a few minutes later was following rusty old fenceposts through the mist, then taking a sharp L turn along traces of path in search of the head of Glen Callater.

It was a great boost to descend back under the cloud and see the way ahead - the very long way ahead, Loch Callater in the distance, and the very low sun highlighting the hillsides below.  Although it was downhill from here, the first bit was rather awkward, and I felt safer walking after a couple of slips on mossy rock.  I think my GPS route was a bit too far N towards the slabs.

Once safely down on the E side of a tributary I found traces of path, which was improving all the time as I progressed down the valley, and when I found myself on stepping stones across a marshy bit I felt like I had reached the outpost of civilisation!  7.5 miles still to go, and daylight fading.

Stopped to take on some more water at Loch Callater.  I hadn't seen anyone since Glen Doll, and wasn't going to.  I always think there's something special about witnessing nightfall in places like this - no streetlights or cars or noise, just heather and hills.  I enjoyed this as I descended down the 4 miles excellent track towards the A93, stopping briefly to put the headtorch on for when I got to the road.

Fortunately I'd checked with my dad about this next bit - getting to the "back road" into Braemar on the W side of the Clunie Water.  Otherwise I'd have screwed up for sure.  There's no way I would have found my route in the dark, and would have had to endure a dodgy 2 miles along the A93.  The instructions were basically to head up the glen (i.e. the wrong way) on the A93 along the deer fence until it finished, that's about 200m, where a feint track heads off into the heather then doubles back towards a bridge.  Once over the bridge, the path follows the bank of the river upstream again for another 200m before cutting uphill onto the road.

From there, it was an easy 2-and-a-bit mile coast down towards the lights of Braemar. The church bells tolled 5 times as I approached.

Southern Upland Way - Bargrennan to Portpatrick

Distance: 40.1 miles (64.5km) Ascent/Descent: 750m/700m
Start/Finish: Bargrennan to Portpatrick
Terrain: 40% gravel/surfaced road, 35% boggy track/trail, 25% easy trail
Transport: Buses
Route: Route Map | Garmin Course [Coming soon]
Southern Upland Way Stages: Prev [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] 6

Port Kale, near Portpatrick

Summary
There's quite a lot of road walking/running on this section, but there's also a lot of bog to make up for it. In spite of the area being heavily forested, I was pleasantly surprised how open the route was. The first 20 miles does feel very remote, even when "on-road". Towards the end its very different - farmland and country lanes. The best is left to last though - 2 miles of coastal path between the lighthouse and Portpatrick are possibly the best 2 miles of the entire way (in my opinion at least)!

Near the start, looking back towards Galloway Forest Park

Blog
We stayed the Friday night in Newton Stewart, and in the morning I could tell my dad was excited for me as we drove the 8 miles North to where the Southern Upland Way crosses the A714, near Bargrennan. The weather added to the excitement - it was the kind of weather you dream up when planning these crazy things. Pale blue sky, crisp still air, wisps of mist above the ground vegetation that was white with frost. Midgies wouldn't have a chance!

I was running by 9am, the terrain immediately proving a challenge for muscles that hadn't warmed up yet! Feet submerged in bog within minutes, and ankles getting a good workout. The first two miles involved ascending "Glenvernoch Fell", a modest lump but with a good panorama from its summit trigpoint.

I was nicely warmed-up by the time I was at the summit, photographing the new vista over Loch Ochiltree. To the West I could see mile after mile of forest, and that's where I was heading. Although not exactly a dramatic view, I was inspired by what I saw. The vastness and remoteness of it I guess, and that feeling of having part of the world to myself for one day!

After a fun, gentle descent I was routed onto a decrepit road (which my poor dad had driven over earlier!), and after a mile and a bit of this I was off into the woods. It was fairly tricky going at times but also great fun. At one point a fallen tree disguised the route ahead. This forest section was fairly short and I was back onto another deserted road, passing Northwards through a scattering of houses called "Knowe". A fingerpost sent me off this road onto an equally deserted road, and so I was heading West once again.

My dad and I were experimenting with a new way of keeping me fuelled and watered today! Instead of him having to commit to leaving my car somewhere at sometime, we were using 'drop bags' at planned locations, which meant he could have a lot more freedom to do his own exploring in his own time (or just go to the pub). The first of three drop bags was along this minor road, tucked in the bracken beneath a tree, and having shown me a picture of exactly where he was going to put it I had no problem finding the goodies!

Was a bit surprised when a car came along - I'd catch up with the occupants later as they were walking along the Southern Upland Way to check out the "Wells of the Rees". The road downgraded into forest track for a few miles. At one point I stopped, unplugged the music and indulged in a few moments of absolute peace and quiet. Even the gentle North West breeze didn't penetrate the trees around me. A couple of miles later, back in open terrain, thistle posts lead me off the gravel and up a grassy/muddy path to ascend Craig Airlie Fell. The views remained open all the way to the top, and although I wasn't moving forward very quickly I certainly felt I was climbing well, not wanting to walk but not wanting to burn myself up either. I knew from recent training that my fitness and endurance was back to how I like it, and it was moments like these which made it all worth while.

The path almost doubles back as it descends down into the forest, but soon I was standing at a fingerpost marking a short diversion to the "Wells of the Rees". Can't find much info about these curious things, but another mile down the path there were the "Laggangarn Stones" which did have a small interpretation notice. Unfortunately it explained not a lot was known about these either - other than they vastly predate the Christan symbols inscribed on them.

From the stones, a short way down a fire-break took me to the wooden Beehive Bothy! The location was a bit more interesting than I'd imagined - sure it was surrounded by forest, but it was quite open with a burn flowing by, looks like the site of an old farm. I couldn't resist going into the bothy (it was colder indoors than out!) and checking out the logbook, the last entry being nearly 3 weeks ago.

The trail from here was quite good, briefly, then merged onto a gravel forest track, before leaving this to take in a few more swamps. In fact most of today I was either bounding along road or up to my ankles in either moss, mud, bog or water. I've got photos of each flavour below. I didn't moan about it. At first.

I was really enjoying this run in spite of the difficulty, and the miles had flown by. I wasn't counting them - but I did know that once I had "escaped" the forest and descended the moors down to a road by the river, I'd be approaching halfway, and my second drop bag of the day.

After a mile of two of road, the route of the S.U.Way climbed back onto moor giving me this view back over the way I had come (2nd drop-bag had been down by the river).

According to the map this elevated area is known as Kilhern Moss, and the route upon it was a long, straight, muddy and puddle-filled track with a herd of cows beside it. I imagine some S.U.Wayers bypass this section and stick to the road using the village of "New Luce" as a staging post. Once off the "Moss" and down into the Valley of the Water of Luce, it was back to lusher grazing land - the waymarker posts taking me across a couple of sheep-filled fields to "Huftanny" bridge over the river, then up and over a railway line which takes a parabolic route from here to Stranraer. A rough section followed though trees, contouring the muddy hillside with rocks to trip me up now and then, and afterwards I was back into shady pine forest before re-emerging onto a well-engineered trail that reminded me how comparatively tough much of today's off-roading had been! This part of the route skirts "Glenwhan Moor" (which I guess might be called "Glenwhan Forest" these days?) before briefly joining a minor road. A vista opened out to the West and it was clear I had a bit of descending to do, down into a new landscape of arable farmland!

Descending down the fields towards Castle Kennedy, I felt the waymarkers were a bit scarce, but the GPS course I'd taken from the map gave me the re-assurance I needed.

The route does a brief rendezvous with the gardens of Castle Kennedy then arrives at a main road with a conveniently located petrol station and spar shop. Time for some full-fat coke! I was very happy at this point - the scenery was fairly plain here but I was still enjoying my running with only a half-marathon to go. The first stretch from Castle Kennedy was along a nice bridleway through trees, and I had to hold the pace back and try focus on the moment again rather than just "getting to the finish". Then out onto some backroads winding through hedges, with the occasional farm track or horse-churned path. Two of the "bog photos" above show that even down in these relatively tame and cultivated lands, the Southern Upland Way manages to find mud and water to play in.

I was aware that there'd be a final climb before I got to see the coast (and hopefully Ireland beyond!). As I've commented before, there always is a "final climb" on any section of the way. To be honest, this one did start to get to me, not because of the gradient, but because of the subject of one of those "bog photos" above. The worst one. The one with my hand and leg-prints clearly shown. Hardcore cross-country training!

The final hill of the way (or for most, the first hill of the way) was reached - a green lump with a view over the water, and yes Ireland was clearly visible today. As was Arran. From here I managed to get lost for the second time of the day in spite of the GPS - running to a dead-end and back which was a bit cruel given I was so close to the finish! Eventually got onto the correct track, briefly joined a backroad, then a right turn down a lane to Killantringan Lighthouse on the coast. Here followed what was the nicest piece of running this splendid day, and I was both surprised and grateful to have arrived there well before darkness. The coastal trail was good and firm, and the scenery was particularly pretty in the light of the setting sun. My dad had walked this bit earlier, and I let him know he'd picked the best part my day's journey - if not the entire Southern Upland Way!

My GPS told me I only had about 1.8 miles to go, and as I attacked the final hills I had a sad realisation that this was the end of what had been a great little adventure, a project that had started back in January this year, and here I was on the final couple of miles, and they were stunning. I slowed myself down, wanting to savour this, and indulge in the fact I still felt so good considering how far and quickly I had travelled. The sunset to my right was a fine metaphor for the moment.

Portpatrick became visible around the corner, and lived up to the expectation of being a great setting for a finish.

My dad and I had a fun evening in "The Crown" with some fellow runners who were down for today's Stranraer 10k. Yes I had plenty to drink. As promised.

The next morning, on the start of the long drive back home, we both commented on how it seemed a shame it was over. Obviously it wasn't all about the running - it was the fact that these weekends on the Southern Upland Way had forced us to explore parts of Scotland neither of us had really visited before, and stay in towns like Newton Stewart, Dalry, Moffat and of course Portpatrick. We made a point of making the car journey as much a part of the weekend as the running, deliberately taking different routes home.

So, I guess we'll just have to find another project.

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

Trotternish Traverse

Distance: 22 miles (35.5km) Ascent/Descent: 1870m/1950m
Start/Finish: Flodigarry to Portree
Terrain: 10% trail, 20% road, 70% open hillside
Transport: buses (57A/C) serves start/end.
Route: Route Map | Garmin Course

Summary
The Trotternish peninsula on Skye has a fine escarpment along its length, the crest
of which, although mostly pathless, is nice and runnable, and offers uninterrupted views (cloud permitting) of the Applecross/Torridon hills on one side, and the Outer Hebrides on the other. But there's plenty more interest close by - this route starts by exploring the famous "Quirrang" and finishes with "the Storr" before dropping down to an easy road-run for the final downhill miles to Portree. I guess its possible to cut out the road and and fit this into a (very) long day walk. I was based in Portree, and used the bus to get to the start (Flodigarry) and wanted to run back to "base".

The start, Loch Langaig

Blog
It was a late start for me. I'd been on holiday for 10 days now and had long forgotten what 7am felt or looked like (leaving that to next week when back at work!).

At about 1pm the bus driver dropped me off just beyond the "Flodigarry" sign, where another sign indicates a public footpath to the Quirrang. After day after day of rain, wind and cold, today was a stunner. I'd almost given up and vowed to save my holidays for the Canaries at this time of year! But today Skye was warm, barely a cloud and barely a breeze.

The path climbs up past a couple of nice lochans, steep at times but not for long, then into the rocky wierdness that is the Quirrang. Other paths branch off to explore, I just kept on the main one which heads for the base of the escarpment and follows it around, heavenly trail-running here, eventually arriving at the ever-busy car-park at the top of the pass where a minor road crosses the peninsula.

Looking S from Bioda Buidhe towards Beinn Edra in distance

It gets much more peaceful from here on, with the Trotternish escarpment stretched out ahead, mile after mile. Traces of a path eventually peter-out on the way South to Bioda Buidhe, but the relatively gentle gradient and grassy terrain mean it remains very runnable.

After this initial top, I made the mistake of continuing down the tempting slopes South and had to backtrack uphill slightly on awkward clumpy slopes to negotiate a big gash in the hillside!

It seemed like a long way onwards to 611m Beinn Edra, and instead of sticking to the crest I tried to cut the corner after Bealach Uige, which was swampy and slow going. For most of this section there was a good view down into Uig.

As I progressed South I noticed the ups and downs were getting steeper. Since Edra the ridge had narrowed as it took in a succession of summits. I was getting rather thirsty - as you'd expect there'd been no flowing water along the crest. Thankfully I found somewhere to fill the bottle in the Bealach Chaiplin on the slopes of Flashvein.

Knowing I'd be running out of daylight I cut out the promontory of "Sgurr a Mhadaidh Ruaidh" and headed straight for the next summit. There were more opportunites to fill the bottle after here. I descended the brilliant Bealach Hartaval and struggled up Hartaval. "The Storr" now lay ahead - the highest (and for me ultimate) summit of the day. Descending Hartaval to the bealach took a bit of care cutting down through broken crags (the further W, the less crags), and as I descended, the onward slope of the Storr looked imposing. It wasn't as precipitous as it looked, but I finally succumbed to a walk here. Having studied the map before setting out, I knew I'd be walking this bit! The view from the summit was the best of the day, as the as the Cuillin were now much closer and the view of them was now uninterrupted.

From here it was an easy downhill run to the Bealachs "Beag & Mor". At the latter, I picked up the start of a track descending East into the shadow of the escarpment. This track petered-out and I was soon making my own awkward way down to the nearest burn, finding it easier to run on marshy grass than leggy heather. Eventually came out onto the road "A855", and the tarmac felt incredibly easy after this long mostly pathless day! I felt strong again so really picked up the pace, wanting to get off the main road and down to Portree before darkness.