Walking in the Highlands in late summer is not always the easiest undertaking, due to access questions with regards to deer stalking, which is at its peak of activity during September and the first half of October. General good sense and communication with the head stalkers of each estate involved is more than sufficient to ensure no disruption - either to the estate activity or to any planned route.

With this in mind, the original route had to be scaled down to co-operate with estate requests - especially allowed camping areas and walking routes. The route was reduced to include more low-level walks between campsites and fewer 'hill days', but still with much of the general route outline the same. The route did, of course, change during the trip to cater for actual conditions encountered.

The trip began on Wednesday 4th September at Glenfinnan, from where I walked through Knoydart, finishing at Shiel Bridge on Wednesday 11th.

Day 1: Wednesday 4th September
Rude 5.30am awakenings are definitely for rare occasions! This, being suitably rare, was one of them - I just managed to catch the 6.30 Edinburgh to Glasgow train (well, it actually then sat at the station for about 8 minutes), only to find myself waiting for an hour at Glasgow before the connection to Mallaig. Then followed perhaps the most beautiful train route there is in Britain, especially the section from Bridge of Orchy up on to the vast wilderness of Rannoch Moor, and along the side of Ben Nevis into Fort William, which was, rather oddly, in beautiful sunshine.
Arrived at Glenfinnan station shortly after 12.30, and wandered over to the famous viaduct under which I stopped and ate my Marks & Spencer sandwiches (last real food…). Here it dawned on me what I was doing: I had just passed a sign warning of 'sparsely populated country' where 'considerable mountain experience' was required - pure madness. Started walking as soon as I finished my sandwich before I changed my mind.
It is only 3 miles along a metalled private road from the viaduct to Corryhully Bothy (NM913844). I arrived around 2pm, set up my tent, and then sat outside in the sun reading books for the afternoon. The bothy could be regarded as luxury: electricity, which even stretched to a kettle and a toaster (not that I had any bread).
Around 7pm a rather strange-smelling father and son from Yorkshire, who had been staying in Bothies for the last 2 weeks, appeared and kept me company for the rest of the evening - amazing how quickly you feel the need for company.

Day 2: Thursday 5th September
Woke at 6.30 to hear rain starting - not good given I was hoping to get 15 miles that day (not a huge distance, but with a 50lb pack it becomes quite significant). I lay in bed and debated whether to attempt the walk or not.
Around 10.00 I decided I ought to move somewhere, so I struck camp in the rain, and started moving 40 minutes later - up the glen and over the first pass of the day at 471m. The track started well, until it decided to cross the river 4 times (and this is no small river), and higher up the path and stream became a single feature. Reached the col shortly after 12, and was greeted by a sign welcoming me to Glendessary and telling me to stick to the paths. At some point along this broad, boggy col, my right boot went squelchy - it was bound to happen at some point, sadly it was earlier than I had hoped.
Eventually - an hour later than anticipated - I reached the forest track in Glen Pean, and followed this into Glen Dessary. 5km along the track I reached A'Chuil Bothy (NM944924), and decided, given it was by then 4:00, to stay where I was over night and head over to Sourlies the next day. This ruled out the possibility of a hill-day up Sgurr na Ciche, but it had been tentative due to stalking anyhow.
The weather improved marginally during the day, but became windier and it did keep trying to rain. A'Chuil is a typical bothy - dingy and really quite unpleasant, but a shelter from the wind where I could cook my food. I was alone that night - probably for the first time in my life I was to go for over 30 hours without seeing a single other person, not even at a distance.

Day 3: Friday 6th September
Woke, once again, to the sound of rain on the tent. This time, thankfully, it stopped being a permanent feature around 8.30 and was intermittent for the rest of the day. I was away from A'Chuil by 10.30 - feet back into cold, wet boots.
The forest path degenerated as I got further up Glen Dessary, and my trousers were soon drenched from walking through long wet grass. Reaching the end of the forest around 12noon, the sun came out and everything suddenly seemed much better, although the path remained wet and boggy - something of a feature of Knoydart.
I reached the first Lochain on the path around 1pm (NM903945), and had lunch - the standard oatcakes and salami - and shortly after passed a German couple on their way out - first people seen since Corryhully.
The path continued over the pass, and I managed, apparently like so many others before me, to follow the path into a gorge and to a dead end, in the form of a big drop. I retraced back for about 10 minutes, and found another path heading straight into the somewhat swollen stream, and out the other side. So it was off with boots - feet got bitten by ants as I stepped on a nest - and into the icy water. It was never very deep, but carrying a heavy pack made it a slightly nerve-racking and no doubt dangerous venture.
Boots back on, I zig-zagged down the hill and eventually got back down to sea level, where I crossed more bogs and around 3.30pm reached Sourlies Bothy (NM869950) - a nice short day, but very glad I hadn't tried to do it the previous evening.
Shortly after arriving I was joined by a group of 4 from around Sheffield, and later by 2 from London. Nice to have some company for the evening, and even nicer when I managed to scrounge a dram out of them! Went to bed around 9pm to the sound of heavy rainfall on the tent.

Day 4: Saturday 7th September
2 more people had arrived at the bothy late the night before after I had gone to bed - they'd walked all the way round the coast from Mallaig - 20 miles with no path. I was first up - the others all slept in the bothy, where I woke them all as I went in to make breakfast - and was welcomed by clear blue sky and sunshine.
Took the opportunity of the sunshine to dry out the tent, and even get some of the water out of my boots, eventually bidding goodbye to those at the bothy shortly after 10.00. Before leaving, I found an entry in the bothy book from exactly one year before (7th Sept 2001), saying how a young German had drowned in the river Carnach on that day - precisely my route one year on - which shows the gravity and risks of walking alone in this wilderness.
It was to my relief, therefore, when I walked round the coast and encountered another person who had just struck his camp and was heading the same way as me. He had camped just round the coast, as the tide was in too far to get to the bothy when he had arrived the evening before. After walking with him for a while, I left him behind to take some photos, and I ploughed up yet another boggy path (soon dashing any progress I had made on drying my boots). An hour later I passed a cairn which had been erected in memory of the young German. After a moment's reflection, I moved on, slid on my first step, and ended up lying in mud - terrifying given the circumstances of one year before.
The path continued and entered a narrow gorge - beautiful in the sunlight. Stopped for lunch among the stunning scenery, and then continued along a path which became more vague with each step, until I was just following deer footprints.
At the point where I needed to cut up the hillside and hit a higher path (NG897003), I was caught up by my companion of the morning - a student at UCL - and we toiled up rough ground together. Once on the upper path it was a matter of zigzagging up to 530m, and then zigzagging back down. This was made unpleasant by heavy rainfall, and both boots were soon squelching away merrily. On descending, I began to feel the hint of a blister on my left foot - just above the big toe. About 1km before reaching Barrisdale Bothy I inspected further, and found I had lost a lace buckle on my left boot, both loosening the lace and causing that part of the boot to fall onto my foot. Wet, tired and with broken boots (there are definite leaks in both boots), I reached Barrisdale Bothy (NG872043) and was ready to pack it all in. Sat in the bothy and felt sorry for myself.
I wasn't on my own for very long, however. Soon a cheery group of 5 from Perthshire appeared with half of J Sainsbury's in their backpacks (I was the proud receiver of 3 cooked sausages), along with 2 from Glasgow and 2 Belgians (sporting umbrellas and transparent ponchos - seen at 1020m on Ladhar Bheinn the next day).
Didn't pitch my tent until later - when it had stopped raining. Nonetheless, we all lived in the bothy except for sleeping - this one had electric lights and a superbly badly plumbed toilet (it acted simultaneously as a bidet). The campsite was a bog and quite probably one of the worst places I've encountered for midges on the mainland.
Went to bed late - 10pm - wondering what I would do the next day. Maybe a lazy day…

Day 5: Sunday 8th September
Rained most of the night, but was clearing by the morning, so decided a lazy day would be a good idea.
During breakfast the weather got even better, and seeing everyone else at the campsite preparing to climb Ladhar Bheinn I couldn't resist. A quick rearrangement of boot laces, and off I went for a clockwise traverse of one of the finest ridges on the mainland. Overtook the Perthshire group of 5 within 40 minutes (they left 20 minutes ahead of me) as I hopped up the path happy in the fact that my rucksack wasn't heavy. Reached mam Barrisdale in good time, although finding a way up to the ridge from there was slower going, and it culminated in a rather airy Gully on the South side of Stob a'Chearcaill (according to a notice in the bothy, this was 'very greasy when wet'; we nicknamed it 'The Greasy Stob' in light of this fact).
The views of Coire Dhorrcail were magnificent - high cliffs and deep-set gullies made more menacing by the shadows they lay in. I had beautiful weather right round the ridge to the top (which I reached at about the same time as several other groups who were traversing it anti-clockwise). Rain then set in for a while, but it was just a passing shower, and cleared to blue sky again as I got lower. I descended quickly down a good path on the narrow Drum a'Choire Odhair, before cutting over the corrie and back along a stalkers track to Barrisdale - 6 hours walking; last to set off in the morning, first to arrive back. I was getting fitter.
Rest of the day was spent reading and eating - that night it was soya mince and Bolognese - the first of 3 nights of Spaghetti Bolognese. We had an amusing visit from the Barrisdale stalker around 10pm - he having had a little too much whisky - but we found out some interesting and forgettable facts about deer stalking.

Day 6: Monday 9th September
Night rain (déjà vu?) cleared early leaving a beautiful cloudless morning - too good to waste, so I prepared to climb Luinne Bheinn - 2 munros, and apparently one of the roughest ridges in Scotland. A longer day than the previous one, but if the weather stayed as it was, it would be memorable.
No time wasting - I was away by 9.05am and back up that path to mam Barrisdale, this time turning off left at the col and heading up steep slopes to the first summit - Luinne Bheinn (939m), reaching it at 11.30am. Then it was 2 hours round a suitably rough but easy ridge and up to Meall Buidhe (946m). Here I looked longingly back at Barrisdale, knowing that my return route was longer than the distance I had just covered in the last 4½ hours. My descent began down the long Drum Righeanaich to the west (as if heading for Inverie), then dropping off to the North once the crags had gone, and over rough ground to the western end of the loch (NG816004). It was then about 8km back over mam Barrisdale (climbing another 400m) to Barrisdale itself. It had been the longest day so far - arrived back around 4.00pm - 7 hours, at a quick pace (I had covered the last 8km in about 1½ hours). My feet were sore and becoming rapidly more blistered - broken boots are not conducive to healthy feet.
Original plan had been to spend 4 nights at Barrisdale, with a lazy day before moving on to Kinloch Hourn. Sadly the rule at Barrisdale (it is often a very popular campsite) is a maximum stay of 3 nights, so there could be no lazy day.
That evening, a 70+ man from Glasgow who had walked in from Kinloch Hourn with a minute rucksack containing a woolly jumper and 2 sandwiches joined the bothy group - he's not a big eater, he said, and was surprised to find a bothy there (I think he had been planning on sleeping under a rock). Makes my large-scale effort look completely pointless, really. Anyway, the people from Perthshire (they were still there) took pity and forced him to have some of their food (they did still have an awful lot of it), which he accepted with humble gratitude, before settling into a threadbare chair for the night. He was gone before I got up (6.30am) the next morning.

Day 7: Tuesday 10th September
A stormy night was followed by a perfect - windy - morning (no midges!). Given the day's itinerary was to be a short coastal walk, I took the morning to dry out kit - notably boots, which got the driest they'd been since the Wednesday before.
With feet covered in plasters, I left around 11.00am, following the coast east towards Kinloch Hourn. Not a particularly fast path - lots of big loose stones, and lots of up and down (one writer estimates it is 1000 feet of climbing along the 7 miles), but very picturesque, and stayed sunny for most of it.
I reached Kinloch Hourn (NG950066) - and the first tarmac since Glenfinnan - around 2.30pm, just before the daily rainfall. Found a tea room there, and couldn't resist a pot of tea and some scones - I used the necessity of finding information about where to camp as an excuse.
Made my way to the designated camp area (another midge-infested bog) and paid my £1 fee. I set up camp near to a slightly odd looking person who offered me a drink - which I declined, feeling full of scone at the time.I think he was offended, as he didn't speak to me again. I also obtained stalking information from the stalker's wife - all clear for the route to Shiel Bridge unless I heard otherwise (which I didn't, thankfully). Rather strangely, this was actually the first night I'd spent where I didn't have a bothy to cook in. It was Bolognese 'a la Midge' for dinner, then sat and read a book - human company is less necessary when you're near to civilisation (not that there's much at Kinloch Hourn - the teashop is half the village). Bed at 8.30.

Day 8: Wednesday 11th September
A significant day for everyone who had a chance to read a newspaper. I missed the lot - with no access to newspapers it was refreshingly like any other day of the trip: "one year on" really doesn't justify re-printing those pictures of horror which everyone enjoys looking at so much.
The night before had been calm and dry, but I woke to a comprehensive cloud cover which stayed above me until I reached Glen Shiel later in the day. I was away from Kinloch Hourn shortly after 9am - no news from the stalker, although I greeted them as I walked past their cottage. Then, as I climbed up an overgrown path behind the lodge I had a close encounter with a big, loud dog who chased me for some considerable distance up the hill.
Upon escaping (with both legs intact (just)), I followed a good path up into the glen, although sometimes I had to share it with a large plastic pipe which left little room for feet. Once in the glen proper it became boggier, but still reasonably easy, until (as it showed on the map) it fizzled out, and I negotiated a simple boulder-hopping river crossing to join the better path on the other side. With the wind behind me, it didn't take long to reach the first bealach of 550m, which I reached around 11.30am.
Then it was a descent into Glen Quoich, before I cut the corner in the paths (NG990103) and completely failed to link up with the path going back up the Glen. I never did find the path - I don't think it exists - so I just carried on over fairly easy ground, and back up to the second bealach at 720m, and the highest point of the trip when carrying a full pack (it was, of course, considerably lighter by then than on day 1). I was treated to a view down into Glen Shiel, seeing more cars in 30 seconds than I had for the entire previous 8 days. The sky cleared as I descended, reaching the road at about 2.30pm.
Spent a bit of time cooling off, and made myself look presentable to aid successful hitching, before walking down the road and sticking my arm out at everything that passed. Sadly I was at a rather bendy bit of road, so I had to walk a good 2km before I found a tactical lay-by where I put down my rucksack, and was very quickly given a lift by a very pleasant elderly couple to Shiel Bridge (NG939186). A quick visit to the 'Shielshop' for a cool drink (it was getting quite warm in the sun), to collect bus times and a camping ticket (£4), before setting up tent in an all too civilised camp site boasting hot water and a porta-shower of which I made full use. Nice to be clean again.
I had dinner along the road at the Kintail Lodge Hotel Bar - 3 courses of 'freshly' cooked food (fresh to me, anyhow) made a fitting end. I was back in the tent at 8.45pm, and straight to bed so I could ensure I caught the 0935 bus to Glasgow.

Typically, the best weather of the week arrived just as I finished walking, and remained for the bus journey home. It was tempting to stay another day, but if I stayed one day then I would have to stay until Sunday (I didn't have any keys to the house), and using the excuse of broken boots I returned to civilisation at the earlier date.

The trip was an interesting one for many reasons. Most notably seeing how I coped with solitude, and also human interactions when surrounded by wilderness - people talk to each other in a way that just doesn't otherwise happen. As for solitude, I disliked it when stopped, but when walking I was more or less oblivious to it - you gain so much freedom over where to go and when to stop (or not stop) when alone.

In terms of the original purpose of the trip - to climb munros - it had changed somewhat. I did manage to climb 3, bringing my total to 90, but at the same time I gained knowledge of a remote and beautiful area in Scotland which will doubtless call me back time and time again.

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