Atholl - When do I ever stay in a hotel

For last year's birthday I received from a friend a book called the Bothy Bible. It set out for the first time in print all the bothies in Scotland and included a wee bit about each bothy's history and its stories. It really perked my interest in bothies. A lot of outdoor folk bemoaned the book stating that it would make the bothies more accessible which risked misuse and vandalism. But I thought if more people know about bothies then more people will care for them and protect them. Leafing through my book one evening, a bothy caught my eye that I'd heard about in hillwalking circles as something of a legend - the Feith Uaine Bothy. Not that I'd heard it by that name. I'd heard it called its more common name - the Tarf Hotel. Tucked away in the remote hills and high moors near the headwaters of the River Tilt, it's a mini expedition to get there. But I spotted that I could combine a visit to the Tarf Hotel with two equally remote Munros that I hadn't climbed yet. Added to this, it was sure to guarantee some peace and solitude, and an escape from a hot, busy summer at home in the city. 

The rough track up Glen Tilt provided a long approach by bicycle in the gathering dusk of a late summer evening. A grassy shelf by the river provided the first night's camp spot. Next morning, with the bike stashed in the woods, I set out on foot up the remainder of the glen. The purples of thyme, foxgloves and heather contrasted with the rich summer greens of the hills. Here and there a dragonfly would zoom past in strong, purposeful flight. Dragonflies enthrall me with their dazzling, ephemeral beauty. They were amongst the first flying insects to evolve 300 million years ago and fossils have indicated that at that time they had a two-foot wingspan. They are such a successful species that they have barely changed since, albeit they got a little smaller!

The Glen Tilt track eventually leaves the river, shoulders the hill and drops on the far side to the Tarf Water. Despite this year's exceptional long, dry spell, l still had to take the boots off to wade across so goodness knows what it's like in spate. It already felt remote and empty here and that feeling was enhanced as I climbed the first Munro, An Sgarsoch, meaning place of sharp rocks. Frustrating, pathless, deep heather lower down gave way to short, springy turf as I climbed that was a joy to walk on. Views opened up to the vast empty lands around me and the seemingly endless layers of hills in every direction. The Cairngorms stretched out to the north, a familiar and unmistakable compass point. In the far distance I could see the deep rock cut of the Window on Creag Meagaidh. And closer at hand were the two other Atholl Munros, Carn a' Chlamain and Beinn Dearg. Nestled down at the foot of these on a green sward where the Feith Uaine burn and the Tarf Water joined together, was the Tarf Hotel, a tiny speck from up here.

There was another Munro to do before I could head to the Bothy, Carn an Fhidhleir, meaning rocky hill of the fiddler, an easy climb from the bealach between it and An Sgarsoch. Then a delightful meandering stream whose u-bends I must have criss-crossed twenty times, provided a route back down to the glen to pick up a path through long summer grasses to the bothy. 

The Tarf Hotel is a big bothy with three separate rooms. Nobody else was around or arrived later. Despite the fact that I'd planned to camp again for my second night out, I loved this place so much that I decided to stay. l chose to sleep in the wooden annex whose generous windows looked east back down the glen. The Feith Uaine burn babbled close by and despite its meaning (green river) provided crystal clear drinking water. 

The bothy was previously an estate shooting lodge although it's believed it was built from the ruins of a black house dating back to the 1680s. It fell into disuse and dereliction by the 1930s but in 1992 it was taken over and renovated by the Mountain Bothies Association. Its affectionate name of the Tarf Hotel comes from the old, yellow AA "hotel" sign that's been nailed to the door!

It's a place of immense peace and quiet, the only sounds the wind and the water. In the evening I sat with my cuppa on the doorstep as the sun dipped in the west. The air was full of insects and in the sun's low beams they were dancing specks of golden light. Before long the sun dropped behind the hills, casting a chill on the evening air and a grainy, grey light through the night, so characteristic of summer in the hills.

It didn't seem like the sun had been gone for long before it was up again next morning and flooding my room with light from the east. An early room service call to begin the long trek back.

Fact File

Start/finish: Blair Atholl train station

Public transport: Trains between Edinburgh/Glasgow and Inverness stop at Blair Atholl.

My route: I used the folding bike to save having to prebook on the train. Out of the station I turned right on the main road then left after the bridge then left again at a fork for Old Blair. A little way along here the track up Glen Tilt begins on the right beside a lodge house. I camped and stashed the bike at the last of the trees beyond Forest Lodge. Further on the track splits as the glen narrows and I took the left split over to the Tarf Water. Crossed the river here beside a barn and used the riverside track west a little way before ascending the south ridge of An Sgarsoch via Sron na Macranaich. Dropped to the bealach and climbed up the other side to the ridge of Carn an Fhidhleir where there was a path to the top. To descend headed south from the top then dropped down to the Allt a Chaorainn to follow it to where it joined the Tarf Water. I never come across a stream that meanders as much as this one. There was a faint path from here to the bothy requiring the Tarf Water to be crossed again. Returned via the same route. 

West Fife - Into the bad lands

Bordering West Fife and Clackmannanshire is a big, green splodge on the map dotted by blue lochans and cross-hatched with a network of paths and trails. It’s called Devilla Forest. I’d seen photos of it online with early morning sun casting beams of golden light through old pine trees and I wanted to be there. So I strung together a summer cycle route into deepest Fife.

Devilla means “bad farm” and it’s thought that the name derives from the bad farming land to the north. Like much of Fife, the area today is largely devoted to farming but there are pleasing pockets of woodlands and flowery hedgerows with an ever-present sense of the sea to the south. Devilla is conveniently linked to Dunfermline by the West Fife Cycleway, a former railway line that speeds you out of town towards the Ochil Hills. But before it gets there, a rough farm track branches off and bumps its way into Devilla Forest. Despite the proximity of towns here, there was a wild atmosphere to the place and it was a while before I saw another soul.

The forest itself is a rich mosaic of habitats. There’s plenty commercial forestry of course but also open meadows and sections of track that pass through leafy broadleaved woods and skirt the edges of reed-fringed lochs. The highlight is a trail that loops through the ancient pine woods in the forest, a lowland stronghold of red squirrels. The dark waters of the lochan here reflected the bobbing heads of bog cotton and were danced over by dazzling blue damselflies.

There are interesting little snippets of history in the forest as well. I cycled by the Standard Stone, a large, flat stone with deep depressions. According to local legend, MacBeth and Banquo were defeated here by a Danish army in the Battle of Bordie Moor in 1038. However, the exact origin of the stone is not known, although usually such stones were where Scots placed their battle standards. But it could also be the placement for an ancient boundary marker or a wooden gallows.

As I cycled south out of the forest towards the Forth Estuary, I made a detour to a poignant little memorial. The bike bumped along a narrow path, pushing aside the overhanging, lush summer vegetation. The afternoon air was thick and hot now and filled with the buzz of busy insects. Where a stile crossed a fence, I left the bike and picked my way through thick bushes and trees, not really sure what I was expecting to find. But a little way further on I came upon the Plague Grave. This simple grave in the woods marks the last resting place of Robert, Agnes and Jean, the three children of James Bald who all died on the same day in 1645 of the plague. It was custom then to bury people who died of the plague out in the fields and presumably in the intervening 350 plus years, the woods had grown up around it. Despite the passage of so much time, local people obviously care for the grave because it was decorated with flowers, baubles and toys. 

From the Plague Grave, a rough farm track then continued south to the coast at the pretty village of Culross. Founded in the 6th century and once a busy port, the village has retained many of its beautiful historical buildings, such as the palace and town house, and numerous old cobbled streets. From Culross the cycle route travels east along the north shore of the Forth, passing old harbours and quiet beaches, before it reaches the Forth Bridges. From here you can turn north back into deepest Fife or, as I did, turn south and cycle over the quiet old Forth Bridge to Edinburgh.

Fact File

Start: Dunfermline

Finish: Edinburgh

Transport: Train to Dunfermline Town train station.

My route: I crossed to the east side of the train line, cycled downhill then swung right at the roundabout. Straight ahead a little further on is the south entrance to Pittencrieff Park. Cycled the main route through the park and out the top end. Straight up the road opposite, then left at the T junction then right on the next busier road. The Cycleway begins soon after on the left. The branch trail to Devilla is signed and is a bit rough in places though the trails are good once in the forest. I cycled the Red Squirrel Trail then followed signs for the Coastal Cycleway which picked a nice off-road route through to Culross.  From here the National Cycle Network can be followed to and over the Forth Bridges back to Edinburgh.

Info: A lovely coffee shop in Culross next to the palace – Bessie’s Café – with gluten free cakes.