Isle of Arran - The Arran Coastal Way

The Arran Coastal Way is a long distance walking trail that goes round the coast of the Isle of Arran in Scotland's Firth of Clyde. I walked (most of) it using the tent to camp wild for several nights and to stay in campsites a couple of nights. It's a circular route obviously so you can start anywhere on that circle but the natural start and end is of course Brodick, where the ferry from the mainland docks. There's a lovely sculpture here of the route on the promenade. I did use the bus to bridge a couple of sections. On the northwest coast south of Catacol there was a long road walking section of over ten miles and though it was a quiet road, I neither fancied that nor had enough time. Going to Arran had been a last minute change of plan the night before and I didn't quite have enough days at my disposal. I also used the bus for a section on the south of the island. For part of this, there was no other option for the trail than walking on the road and another part was tidal which I would be crossing on an incoming tide so possibly forced up onto the road anyway. I felt the roads on the south of the island were really not suitable for walking as they were more like B roads with large vehicles and faster traffic. Luckily, Arran has a great wee bus service that links up the entire coast and which made possible skipping these two sections. So this is more a tale of backpacking and bussing the Arran Coastal Way!

It's always wonderful to start a trip with a ferry ride as you feel you have traveled to distant lands even before you step off the boat. This sailing from Troon crossed a sea like glass. I was heading to Arran in a long, dry, sunny spell of weather and the ferry was busy. I was worried the island would be too overcrowded for me but I really have no idea where everybody went once the ferry docked because I saw very few people on the trail itself except at a few honeypots. Even then, it wasn't crowded. It was busy of course as I walked Fisherman's Walk along the waterfront at Brodick. Arran's famous mountain, Goatfell rose above the beach. It's actually on the Coastal Way as an alternative route option but I hoped I'd have time to climb it at the end.

Instead of going up Goatfell, I wandered north through Merkland Wood on forest tracks above the coast before dropping down to the beach at the pretty hamlet of Corrie. Somebody here has a sense of humour because the moorings of the old harbour had been painted to look like sheep. 

The route continued north from Corrie to Sannox and beyond here was a wonderful stretch of walking. The trail passed through lush, green woods between the blue sea and a sheer cliff face. It somehow felt prehistoric here as the atmosphere was of being lost in time. 

Further north the woods receded and the trail followed a track along the shoreline at the bottom of steep, grassy slopes. My first camp spot was along here near Millstone Point, a fabulous spot looking over to the islands of Bute and Cumbrae. The rugged hills of the Cowal peninsula filled the further away horizon and the incessant calls of cuckoos filled the evening air around the tent. They were to be everywhere along the trail.

Next morning, I continued walking north passing another interesting rock escarpment with a series of small caves. The first one was very habitable with seats made out of plastic pallets that must have washed ashore and a view out to sea. Had I come across it the night before, I might have stayed there.

Soon the whitewashed walls of the empty cottage at Laggan came into view. What a delightful spot this was to sit a wee while. Old stone walls enclosed pasture beside the house and led your eye along the path to the building itself. Two big trees stood behind the house and shaded a small burn that tumbled down from the steep hillsides above. It was lined by bluebells and the green spikes of yellow flag irises, just about ready to open their flowers. I dumped the backpack and sat here for ages, resting against the walls of the house and gazing out to the dazzling, blue sea. I loved the tranquility and beauty of this old place. 

It was as well I took a breather. I had decided that I would take the old hill path from here over to Lochranza rather than stick with the coastal path as I thought it would introduce some nice variety to the walk. It certainly did and it was a stunning path to walk but my goodness it was steep as it climbed up the hillside above Laggan. I felt I dare not trip or drop anything in case me or it tumbled all the way down the slope into the sea far below. 

Though it was steep, it was an old path so it had been built with the foot traveller in mind. It contoured up the hillside, easing the gradient as best it could. Eventually, it leveled out and crossed a high bealach where the view opened up to the hills of Arran's northwest. It then dropped in a most pleasant way into Lochranza on a farm track lined by hawthorn and flowering gorse which filled the air with its coconut aroma.

The onward route from Lochranza to Catacol uses what is known as the Postie's Path. This was a rough but beautiful path that clambered through knarly, old birch woods that clung at an alarming angle to the incredibly steep hillside. It required a fair bit of care, not just in foot and hand placements but also to not pick up ticks which seemed to be rampant in the coastal woods. 

Eventually, the Postie's Path popped out beside the pretty cottages at Catacol. I detoured from the route here with a lovely walk up into Catacol Glen to find a camp spot for the night. The riverside path into the glen passed through woods and close to a sand martin colony where the birds had made nesting holes in an old landslip. Steep hills rose above my camp spot but I had a sliver of a view to the sea which turned pink later in the setting sun. Large, flat rocks at the riverside provided a place to sit in the evening and to cook safely with the camp stove. This was a period of extreme wildfire risk and I was careful to find places to light the stove where there was no risk of it catching the bone dry vegetation.

The next day was another fabulous day of walking. Up at the crack of dawn, I caught the first bus south to avoid that long section of road walking. It turned out it doubled as the school bus and several excited children got off at the primary school a few miles down the road. I had a reason to get going early. My walk would start that day with a visit to the Machrie Moor Stone Circles. It's one of the most popular spots on the island so I wanted to get there ahead of any crowds. I managed that and was also lucky with lovely morning light. Machrie Moor is dotted with stone circles and burial chambers. The photo below is of the most striking stone circle at the site which dates from 2000 BC. It's an incredibly atmospheric spot, a sort of natural amphitheatre bounded by Arran's rugged hills on three sides and by the sea on the fourth side. The stones were beautiful but the walk was to just keep getting better.

From Machrie, the trail climbed above the bay and looked down on a landscape of scattered farms and fields divided by hawthorn hedgerows. The sun was warm enough to scent the air with the aroma of the pine trees as the path passed into their shade. 

After a while, the trail dropped steeply to the sea through a narrow, rocky defile and continued along the bouldery beach, passing by the King's Caves. The caves were formed during the last ice age when the weight of the ice forced the land downwards so the sea was higher relative to the caves. When the ice melted, the land rebounded and the caves rose to their present position above the beach. The king reference is related to Robert the Bruce though it's doubtful that he ever stayed here. Such are legends!

Just beyond the caves was possibly my favourite thing on Arran - fossilised dinosaur footprints. They were made 200 million years ago by a large reptile walking across soft mud. What added to their appeal was the short walk there which passed through dense trees and overhanging vegetation, a place where you could have believed the dinosaur was still roaming. 

After more rough walking, rampant wildflowers, ancient rock features and a modern golf course, I eventually found myself walking along the sandy beach at Blackwaterfoot. The village is quite small but was the biggest place since leaving Brodick so it had an air of activity about it. It was pleasant to sit a while at its centrepiece, the old harbour where the stone arch of the road bridge crossed the gently flowing Clauchan Water. 

This sense of activity was quickly left behind as I continued walking south on a very rough section of trail. A narrow strip of land between the sea and a rock escarpment provided a route for the trail through large boulders and stunted trees. It was slow going but had a real sense of rugged remoteness and beauty. Bluebells, red campion and ragged robin were dotted through the bracken, the sea sparkled and the long, undulating line of the Kintyre peninsula filled the western horizon. 

Eventually, the narrow strip broadened out to livestock fields and a track cut up through these to Sliddery where I caught the last bus of the day to Kildonan to avoid walking the busy road. This was an added bonus because the campsite at Kildonan was stunning. It was right at the beach with a view to the lighthouse island of Pladda and beyond that the granite rock of Ailsa Craig. 

Next day, my walk turned north back towards Brodick. There was a choice of routes to either stay at the coast or take a slightly higher, inland route. I chose the inland route as there were a couple of interesting things to see here and better options that night for a wild camp. A track climbed high above Kildonan through farm fields and scented hedgerows. Soon it passed into forestry for the next few miles until the trees opened up again above Whiting Bay. What a view. The pretty village hugged a crescent of golden sand and just offshore the rugged little island of Holy Isle drifted in the sea. 

Above Whiting Bay the trail passed by the Giant's Graves, a series of neolithic burial chambers. I do think the ancient people who built them chose the locations of their ceremonial structures very carefully, much like they must have done at Machrie Moor. The chamber had a clear view to the prominent top of Goatfell which had reappeared in the view once the trail had traveled north. 

Just beyond here were the Glenashdale Falls which were still a beautiful sight despite the recent long, dry spell. A platform above the gorge provided a vertigo inducing view over the drop.

North from here, the trail gradually passed from plantation forestry into dense deciduous woodland which was alive with birdsong. Evening light created beams and shadows on the path ahead and a pretty little pond made a camp spot for the night. It was patrolled later by a roding woodcock, a strange but now well known sound for me when in the tent at dusk at this time of year. 

My final day on the trail itself started early with a walk down into Lamlash to rejoin the coast. The village looked pretty in morning sunshine stretched out along the pebble beach. 

A walk along the waterfront gave way to a beautiful path onwards to Brodick. It didn't have much space between the sea and a wooded escarpment but it passed rock pools and a pretty, secluded beach. It was wonderful. It passed into Brodick by zig-zagging through the fields and I was suddenly thrust back into the busy activity of the island's main town. But not for long. 

Although it was already afternoon, the days are long in May and the route up Goatfell fairly straightforward, so I decided to head straight up the mountain. Most people climb Goatfell from Cladach, just outside of Brodick. However, as I'd had a much longer walk in from Lamlash, by the time I was on the top, I had the place to myself. The iconic view across the Saddle, Cir Mhor and the A'Chir ridge was bathed in warm evening light. The sea sparkled all around and there was barely a breeze to ruffle a blade of grass. I was glad that I'd climbed Goatfell at the end rather than the beginning as what a great way it was to end the walk and my time on Arran. 

All that was then left was a very pleasant descent in the gathering gloaming to the camp site in Glen Rosa then a short walk into Brodick next morning for the return ferry.

Fact File

All the photos on FLICKR

Public transport: Train to Troon then Calmac ferry to Brodick. This was a temporary arrangement as the ferry usually leaves from Ardrossan where the train and ferry are better connected. Stagecoach run the bus services on Arran and it's a great service round all of the coast and the String Road, especially useful for walkers.

Route: The route is well described on the Walkhighlands website HERE.

My top tips: Highly recommend the hill path from Laggan to Lochranza as an alternative to the coast; watch for ticks as the woods in particular are hoaching with them; allow plenty of time for the rougher sections of the route as they are very slow going; allow plenty of time as there is so much to see; highly recommend the beautiful campsite at Kildonan; my opinion but the roads in the south that the trail uses are not suitable for walking. 

Beinn Inverveigh - Pitch perfect

Many years of wild camping throughout my adult life have left me with an unusual quirk. When I am out and about or travelling on trains and buses, gazing out the window, I find myself constantly spotting places that would make a perfect pitch for my tent. This is often in appropriate hill or countryside locations. However, I do also find myself doing it subconsciously in inappropriate places like golf courses or parks, just wherever a nice patch of grass is complemented by an aesthetically pleasing arrangement of flora or has a generally attractive situation. Often when I am in the outdoors walking or cycling, I will spot (appropriate) attractive tent pitches and make a mental note to possibly go back and camp there. That's how my friend and I ended up camping on top of Beinn Inverveigh at the tail end of winter. A day walk up the hill a couple of years previously had revealed a perfectly flat plateau of short turf near the summit with a panoramic view all around. A mental note had been made for a return with the tent.

The West Highland Way path provided a pleasant approach from the train at Bridge of Orchy with a gentle climb to the pass of Mam Carraig. We left the Way here to follow a rougher, grassy path up the hill. 

At 636 metres, Beinn Inverveigh is not a big hill so it wasn't long before we were striding onto the summit ridge. It's one of those hills that although not very high, is slightly isolated from the bigger hills around and therefore provides wonderful views in every direction. To the north and west the Black Mount and the Ben Starav group formed an undulating massif that stretched from Rannoch Moor to Loch Etive. To the east, Beinn Dorain and Beinn an Dothaidh filled the near horizon while to the south the shapely peak of Ben Lui rose above everything else. In the far distance, we could just pick out the snow-covered top of Ben Alder which seemed to be the only significant snow around after a poor winter. 

We pitched the tents on the plateau then made the short walk to the very top of the hill. By the time we were back, the sun was already sinking and casting a golden hour glow over the hills all around. It wasn't the only light show however as later a deep red moon rose above the hills to the south.

There was no golden hour at sunrise the next day as a grey, cold day dawned. Banks of cloud obscured the tops of the bigger hills but our modest peak stayed clear for the return walk to Bridge of Orchy.

Fact File
Start/finish: Bridge of Orchy train station served by Glasgow-Fort William trains and Citylink buses.
Route: Took the northbound West Highland Way path which can be picked up at the station underpass. At Mam Carraig a rough, grassy track ascends Beinn Inverveigh, clear initially but less so across the top.

More photos on Flickr HERE.

Carrbridge - Rise and shine, campers

What a morning to wake up to! A blaze of orange across a blue sky signalled the approaching dawn before the red disc of the morning sun gradually pulled itself above the hills in the east. After a cold night and with barely a breeze, the pinewoods stretched out below our camp spot were threaded with low-lying mist that caught the morning rays. 

Sometimes you just get lucky. A perfect sunrise and a perfect spot from which to enjoy it.

We'd walked there the day before from the train at Carrbridge through springtime woods where frogs croaked from the pools and birds practiced their singing voices again. Our walk took us across the steep arch of the Sluggan Bridge which spans the River Dulnain on the route of General Wade's military road. Beyond here, birch woods gave way to Scots pines which in turn gave way to juniper scrubland. 

Out here we found a high shelf of flat turf, like some sort of glacial leftover. A perfect spot for the tents. It had a view over the woods to the east framed by the Cromdale Hills and a distant Ben Rinnes. Although we were beyond the trees, there were a surprising number of birds singing, including a robin and a song thrush. They filled the dusk air before darkness crept in then a thousand stars filled the night sky. We lay with our tent doors open, gazing up at them. In March, the nights are shortening and there won't be many more starry skies until winter returns. 

After the beautiful sunrise, we walked up onto the open moors, taking in a small, heather-clad hill, Sguman Mor, before dropping down into the valley of the River Dulnain. We sauntered back to Carrbridge through woods and open meadows where toads were on the move and curlews displayed overhead. It had been a fine couple of days to be alive and to be out in the hills.

Fact File

Start/finish: Carrbridge

Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness train.

My route: Turned left where the road to the station joined the wee road in to Carrbridge and walked about 2.5km up this road before turning off for the Sluggan Bridge. Crossed the bridge and followed the track as far as the cottage at Insharn, just after took the track to the left. Stayed on this track which climbed round the south side of Carn an Ailean then onto Carn Mheadhoin. Then a rough walk to Sguman Mor. A track descended the other side and we cut a sharper line to the bottom of the glen though met a problematic deer fence doing this. Track alongside the River Dulnain eventually returned to our outward route near Sluggan Bridge.

Annandale - Unprepared

With some annual leave from work but gales forecast over the hills pretty much everywhere, I headed down to Annandale for a few days of walking and wild camping. It was a different type of trip for me as I explored part of the Annandale Way, a low level route that meanders through farmland, villages and woods.

The first section north out of Annan was delightful as the quiet path followed the River Annan for several miles inland. I was to see almost nobody on the trail itself over the next few days but I did chat with an older chap here who was shuffling slowly and bent over a walking stick. He told me this was a favourite walk for him and his wife but she had died three years before. They used to walk as far up the river to a spot they named rabbit island where they would watch for kingfishers. 

I continued on through riverside woods dotted with snowdrops and alive with spring birdsong. Ducks and dippers populated the waterway. A little way further upstream I sat a while at a bench looking at an island in the middle of the river and realised that this of course must be rabbit island. It was a lovely, peaceful spot with just the gentle sounds of the river and the birds filling the air. But I felt quite sad sitting there, thinking about the old man and wondering how much longer he would be able to manage the walk here. 

My route then left the riverside to string together a series of countryside paths, woodland walks and muddy farm tracks that took me north towards Lockerbie. It was lovely walking. Curlews and lapwings called from the fields and I saw two red kites cruise overhead.  Just south of Lockerbie, I passed into some woods and found a quiet spot for the tent tucked away in the trees.

I walked into Lockerbie the next morning via a beautiful local nature reserve called Eskrigg. It was wonderful to sit here a while in one of the bird hides listening to the morning birdsong, watching the ducks on the water and spotting frogs that were gathering in the pond. 

Just outside of Lockerbie, the Annandale Way passes by Dryfesdale Cemetery which is home to the memorial for the Lockerbie Air Disaster. I'd planned to visit but I was unprepared for what an emotional but also inspirational place it would be. For those unfamiliar with the disaster, on the evening of 21 December 1988 a bomb planted on board brought down Pan Am flight 103 which was travelling from London to New York. The wreckage fell over a huge area around Lockerbie and all those on board as well as eleven people on the ground were killed. A total of 270 people lost their lives and the disaster remains to this day the deadliest act of terrorism in the UK. 

The memorial sits in a small garden at the rear of the cemetery and features a granite triptych inscribed with all the names of those who died. To see 270 names listed on the stones really brought home to me the scale of the loss. I was 19 in 1988 and watched the tragedy play out over the news. But standing there today, it felt like the disaster had just happened such was the depth of sadness that was rekindled. Also in my mind at the time, it marked a change in my awareness as a young person. Scotland was no longer a quiet corner of the world where nothing ever really touched us. All of the world's problems and horrors were now ours too. However, I also drew great inspiration from my visit to the memorial. It was now a cold, wet afternoon in the middle of the week in March but there was a steady stream of people visiting, paying their respects to those who died, even after all these years.

Beyond Dryfesdale, my walk looped round to Lochmaben to pick up a different branch of the Annandale Way. Again paths and farm tracks were pleasantly linked together to take me onwards. Storm Eowyn earlier in the year had taken its toll with lots of trees down in the woods and forests so just beyond the village of Hightae my route was completely blocked. The windfall proved to be a real windfall however because while searching for a detour, I came across a perfect camp spot for the night in woods halfway up the wee hill I would cross the next day. 

A beautiful dawn kicked off the final day of my trip as the sun sent fiery rays through the branches of the bare trees to reach my tent. Once packed up, I was soon walking across high, open pasture bathed in soft, morning light. It felt quite different to the rest of the trip to pull up above the woods and the fields. From the high point, I could see the river meandering below and a suggestion of distant hills in the haze.

Dropping back down into farmland, I eventually re-crossed my outward route and walked back into Lockerbie. It gave me an easy direct train home as well as a second chance to sit a while at the lovely wee nature reserve and reflect on the sights and emotions of the last few days. 

Fact File
Start: Annan by train from Edinburgh via Carlisle
Finish: Lockerbie for direct train back to Edinburgh
Route: Followed the Annandale Way north from Annan. It spilts into two options, one via Lockerbie and another via Lochmaben. These two options rejoin further north and I used this to walk a loop from Lockerbie to Lochmaben and back to Lockerbie. 

Tyndrum - The fascinating feature of Fiarach

About fifteen years ago I climbed a little hill above Tyndrum called Fiarach with my friends Andrew and Graham. We had been enjoying a lovely wintry weekend in the area, staying at the wigwams in Strathfillan. 

I'd always meant to return to the hill, fancying a high camp near the top and eventually got round to doing that a couple of weeks ago. It was another wintry weekend.

Minus Andrew this time around, Graham and I walked south from Lower Tyndrum train station on the West Highland Way. It was a pretty section of the route, passing through mixed woodland before opening up a view along the valley of the River Cononish. The snow-covered flanks of the high mountains teased us with glimpses but the only hill that was reasonably clear was Beinn Chuirn. The edges of its dramatic rocky corrie were picked out in snow.

We crossed the river on an old bridge and passed into the ancient pine forest, Coille Coire Chuilc, looking beautiful with its backdrop of winter mountains. We soon left the track here to begin a steep ascent up the grassy slopes of Fiarach. We'd decided to follow one of the mountain streams uphill so that we could gather water for camping as high as possible. It provided a pretty start as we picked our way up through sparse birch woods, before emerging on the open hillside. But my goodness it was steep and I'm sure there must have been groans fifteen years ago as we ascended.  

Today we pulled onto the plateau at the top of the climb just as snow showers piled through. Here icicles clung to overhangs in the stream and exposed hands got cold quickly collecting water. A little further on we found ourselves beside the waters of Lochan Fiarach. When Graham, Andrew and I had passed here, the lochan was frozen solid but we stopped to listen to it cracking and creaking as the wind shifted the ice around. On this occasion, it was free of ice and there was barely a breeze to ruffle the surface. A grassy shelf just above the lochan provided a perfect spot for the tents and a good view down to Tyndrum and the railway line far below. After dark, we watched the lights of the trains as they passed north and south between Tyndrum and Crianlarich.

We woke next day to a beautiful morning. A light dusting of snow had passed overnight and everything was white with frost. The view was clearer initially such that our camp spot was framed by the snow-capped Bridge of Orchy hills to the north. To the west Ben Lui, the highest and most beautiful hill in the area, shone with Alpenglow as the sun rose before disappearing again into the cloud. 

After breakfast we made the short walk to the top of the hill. This is where Fiarach gets really fascinating. The top sits at the far end of a dolerite escarpment so that the final section is a pleasant walk along the top of its ridge. It's a surprise to come upon it because from most angles Fiarach looks like a grassy lump but the escarpment adds real character and interest to the hill. It also opens up a wider view of the surrounding peaks and of the alarming drop to the bottom of the escarpment's south facing cliffs. Hundreds of millions of years ago, dolerite was molten rock and when the tectonic plates were moving in this area, the molten magma was thrust out. The escarpment was exposed by softer rock and soils eroding over subsequent millenia.

We couldn't linger long to ponder these aeons of time or the passage of our own lives since we last stood on this spot. Although it had been calm at camp, the top of the hill which was only 52 metres higher, was blasted by a bitter wind that must have dropped the windchill close to minus ten. We grabbed some quick photos then retraced our steps to the tents, packed up and headed back down to Tyndrum. 

The return walk along the West Highland Way afforded good views back to Fiarach and we could just pick out where our little camp spot would have been. It had been a short and simple trip but it had been fun to revisit Fiarach and memories of days gone by. 

Fact File

Start/finish: Tyndrum Lower train station
My route: Headed south on the West Highland Way which can be joined just outside the station. Just after Dalrigh crossed the bridge over the River Cononish and took the track heading west. Struck up the hillside at Coille Coire Chuilc, heading southeast, eventually reaching Lochan Fiarach from where it's a straightforward walk south to the top. Returned the same way.

PS: Nothing dire has happened to Andrew since the last trip; he just wasn't on this one.