Like a mischievous child opening their Christmas presents early, I can’t wait for the long hike into Knoydart next month, taking advantage of clear weather to book the ferry to Inverie, home to half the peninsula’s population of 111 residents. I stop off at the harbour office to make sure the tiny ferry is sailing.
“Oh yes, you are on the manifest.”
The manifest! A proper voyage.
My companions for the 30-minute trip are a young family of four and an older gentleman carrying a large tripod and binoculars, a conservationist tracking the local population of Manx shearwaters and eagles.
Halfway across, he points to a pair of dots in the sky, sea eagles. I would never have spotted them, pulling out my tiny set of binoculars.
“Do you mind?”
He leans across and makes a small adjustment. It seems I’ve used them incorrectly for two years, not opening the eye cups, which means my eyes are too close to the lens. You live and learn, some of us later in life than others.
Suddenly, splashes in the water and shrieks from the children. Dolphins! They pass in the opposite direction. The skipper kindly turns the boat round, catches up with them and kills the engine as they play round the boat. There are so many, hard to capture on camera, surfacing in random places and quickly vanishing below. I’m as happy as I’ve ever been. Dolphins always have this effect on me. Sadly, the ferry must keep to its timetable and speeds away, chased by dolphins arcing gracefully through the water.
Landing at the small jetty, a path leads into the woods and evidence of a growing working community.
Coast walking must wait for a full trip. Today, just a gentle stroll along an easy track into the interior. There are thousands of saplings planted across the hillside. Imagine what the glen will look like in 20 years?
A huge basin surrounds the river, which spates easily, making the ford at its mouth impassable. A challenge for another trip.
There’s a bridge further inland, which is as far as I go, resting by the fast-flowing water for coffee and chocolate.
Ladhar Beinn, the highest mountain in Knoydart, dominates the skyline. I hope to climb all the Munros here.
A military plane appears from nowhere, flying low over my head and down the valley.
The weather at the top of the mountain changes quickly as clouds roll over.
The famous Old Forge, renovated after a community buyout, is Britain’s most remote pub. I’m the first customer at an unseemly 3 pm, taking the best seat in the house with views down the loch. It’s a fantastic pub, serving Seven Men, a great beer brewed in the nearby Knoydart Brewery, named after seven local men who returned from the Second World War and failed to successfully invoke the Land Settlement Act, which allowed returning servicemen to take over underused land for farming.
I happily while away the three hours before the ferry arrives. The pub gradually fills up, with locals, dogs and a few other visitors. The fish and chips are as delicious as any I’ve had. I’d be a very happy man to have this as my local pub.
I step outside briefly to admire the view as the sun sets.
It’s pitch black outside when a few of us leave for the ferry. There are no street lights, only the glow from head torches, floating and bobbing in the dark. The crossing is a little rough, forsaking the cosy cabin to stand next to a chap I met in the pub with his dog.
Reaching Mallaig, I wish him a good trip. He grasps my shoulders.
“Have a good life!”
One of those life-affirming days. Perhaps the beer has made me sentimental.
Total distance: 5,578 miles.
Those military jets – we experienced a few of those on the West Highland Way – bursting out of a calm blue sky with a deafening roar – you never see them coming and my instinctive reaction is to throw myself on the ground 🙃
This was more of a stealthy, sneaky flyover.
I’ve never been to Inverie but my neighbour used to tell me stories of going to visit her friend there when she was young. She would catch the boat to Mallaig then get taken over by a local fisherman.
One to add to your list then. 🙂
Thanks for the dolphin video, just what I needed this morning.
They are so joyous and uplifting. 🙂
Glad you enjoyed it Tony, I very much enjoyed Knoydart and glad to hear the pub is a bit more sane now. If you have read Ruths’ account (and to a lesser degree mine) the previous owner seemed to think he was running a high-end restaurant in Brussels than a very rural pub in Scotland. All the locals fell out with him and refused to use it and from what I gather he used to rip off many visitors and complain if they didn’t order 3 courses!
Glad you got to see Dolhpins. I heard they were common in this part of the sea, but I didn’t see them on my numerous trips over on the ferry. The ferry is I think subsidised so they pretty much have to run regardless. I remember being the only passenger and apologising but they told me they have to run anyway as part of their contract.
The track you followed I used for a circular walk, continuing up to Inverguseran where I forded the river (there were lots of stone sticking above the water, as it gets quite wide there) and then followed the path west to Airor and then the track (basically a road) back down to Inverie. I suppose fording the river might not be possible or safe at the moment after such a wet winter though. A lovely walk.
Hi Jon. Yes, I gathered from your blog that the previous pub owner was a Basil Fawlty type. I will be back up there next month and plan to do the circular walk that you did and hopefully climb the tallest mountain, weather permitting. A local recommended also doing a there-and-back to Croulin as the coastline changes to a more dramatic front, but not sure if I will have time for that. I’m happy to walk back in the dark as it is all track/road.