Glaciers and water have shaped the upper reaches of the River Spey. They have created a long, flat-bottomed glen bounded on both sides by high mountains. The glen is green and lush, dotted with farms and pleasant wee towns in contrast to the rugged Cairngorms that rise to the south. They are the coldest and snowiest place in the country. The elements here have taken huge bites out of the mountains, creating a scalloped edge of sculpted corries, and worn away deep gashes like the Lairig Ghru. Along this northern edge of the Cairngorms there is a skirt of old Caledonian forest that cloaks the valley with Scots pine, birch and juniper. It’s criss-crossed with trails and dotted with secretive, tree-reflecting lochs that beg you to launch a boat onto their sheltered waters. So in late September, I added a lightweight packraft to my backpack and set off for a few days in the woods to walk the trails and paddle the waters.
A woodland walk on the first day took me an idyllic camp spot right at the edge of Loch Mallachie. I pitched the tent between tall pines whose straight tree trunks reflected in the rippled water like a squiggly bar code. Early morning I slipped the packraft onto the water and weaved a way through the pond weed. Movement ahead caught my eye – an otter. It powered across the loch towards the shallows around a wooded island then dived again and again, arching its back like a dolphin as it went under, leaving its tail to follow behind. The atmosphere of this place was special – wild and boreal with the Cairngorms rising beyond wooded foothills. I could have paddled all day except for a stiff wind picking up and forcing me back to land.
Woodland walks took me further up the glen to paddle its more sheltered waters. Above me as I walked or paddled huge skeins of geese passed overhead. Their combined honks began as a faint alert of their approach, reached a crescendo when they passed above me then receded as they flapped away over the horizon. For my second night out in the tent, I left the loch shores and headed deeper into the forest to a favourite camp spot. A beautiful, old, granny pine presides over a forest clearing while all around birch, juniper and heather form an understorey alive with the dusk-time twitter of small birds.
Though my camp spot was deep in the woods, it was still only a short walk to the final stretch of water, Lochan Gamhna, another favourite wild spot of mine. A shallow shore provided a launch spot and the paddle cut through still waters as I headed out onto the main body of the loch. In the deeper parts of the loch, the water was as black as Guinness but in the shallower places it was transparent and the flat, round leaves of the pond weed floated on the surface. I could see their long stems that anchored them to the bottom of the loch. They were like balloons on long strings floating in the air.
I paddled and drifted, paddled and drifted, soaking up the place. A rocky crag formed the loch’s northern boundary, its broken walls catching the morning sun. All around the shore the trees crowded to the edge, showing the first tints of autumn colours. To the south, the wooded hills began their steep climb to the higher tops of the Cairngorms. And superimposed on this was an autumn sky scored by skeins of geese.
Fact File
Start/finish: Aviemore Train Station
Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness trains stop at Aviemore. Used the local Stagecoach bus from Aviemore to Boat of Garten.
My route: Followed the Speyside Way out of Boat of Garten towards Loch Garten. Just before Loch Garten there is a forest car park and from here forest trails connect to Loch Mallachie and beyond. Returned to Boat of Garten and took bus back to Aviemore. Walked on the cycle route to Inverdruie and behind the events field opposite the visitor centre, picked up the trail into the woods that leads to the lochan at the Polchar and then onto Loch an Eilein. A path encircles Loch an Eilein and at the southwest extremity a path branches off for Lochan Gamhna.