On the shores of Loch Nevis, neatly tucked into the sweep of a genteel landscape lies Sourlies bothy. On location it seems more like a Beatrix Potter scene, I was half expecting to see Mrs Tiggy Winkles hanging up washing as I flung open the bothy door! But alas, underneath the fairy tale veneer lies an austere mountain wilderness. To reach Sourlies it entails a journey of over 11 miles of contorted and untamed land.

But here is where things get interesting - bothy trips these days are hard to plan and don't happen that often, however at the end of December 2021 all the planets appeared to be in perfect alignment, game on! Just to enliven proceedings, by necessity we had to take in our own fuel. Also due to the precarious covid situation I thought it would be prudent to take a tent. The upshot being - monstrous kits. Our purgatory was our recreation or as I have often said 'enjoyment is retrospective'.

I thought my kit was pretty trim at 34lb but then there was the tent at 11lb and the wood at 20lb so in total 65lb, over four and a half stone! My walking pal James's kit with the coal was even heavier! As we hoisted on each others kits ( we could barely pick them up ourselves) we must have looked a sorry looking pair but a lone hiker who had parked next to us did us a huge favour - he saw our gargantuan kits and our seemingly puerile nature and remarked "I should say the road to Sourlies will be scattered with your discarded gear, you'll never do it''. That was just the fuel we needed to bolster the mental side of this challenge. Whoever you were, thank you!

the sack with the wood in has got to be attached yet!

So off we trotted. It's always nice to feel that static of excitement as you're donning your kits. Although I refrained from saying it at the time , with my first few steps I didn't feel great - I could feel the sheer weight digging into my shoulders and the wood rucksack was preventing a methodical gait, I was a bit wobbly. Hence the prospect of nearly twelve miles of harsh terrain was a heavy mental load. Your head had to keep pushing your feet forward.

It soon became obvious that James, who I've done several trips with before, was considerably fitter than I've ever known him. While I've maintained a constant level of fitness over the years this was very positive because it pushed me outside my comfort zone. Having said that, I was prone to negativity at times, for example I thought if I sit down with this monster on my back wil I be able to stand up again. The nadir of the whole expedition for me was just stepping into bog, but due to my kit it seemed like a giant had got his foot on my head! We're not young boys either, James is mid 40's and I'm looking 60 right in the eye.

even sitting down and standing up again can be a real challenge!

Arms of woodland seemed to stretch for miles and the track was good but once we had passed A'Chuil bothy the track ceased to hold our hand, as it were, in effect it said "you're on your own now". And indeed we were, all of a sudden it was like the green stage curtain had been lifted and we were in a mountain sanctuary far away from our troubled world. Corries shifted from brown to grey, jigsaw lochans had islands like little snoozing curled up cats, streams meandered forth like tumbling blue thread from a cotton real. All we had to do was locate strategicallly placed rocks where we could catch our breath and take a well earned break.

A'Chuil bothy

Ages ago in a blog I coined a phrase ' a good bothy never manifests itself without a fight' and I'm afraid to say that saying holds true today as never before. It wasn't long before we were on the wrong side of the unforgiving rigidity of the clock. It seemed it was a walk of two halves, the easiest being first - although I told myself that would be reversed on the return trip.

We hoped to reach Sourlies just before nightfall but that wasn't to be, instead we found ourselves walking to the dancing beams of an arc of light - not ideal. Now every footfall was of vital importance -  with greasy rocks, ice and bog, it made all the difference to being walking upright as opposed to being bowled over by Chuck Noris!

Our mental reserves were beginning to diminish as the bothy continued to allude us. There were ravines, death drop bridges and what seemed to be miles of zig zags, it seemed like the bothy had disappeared off the face of the earth. It wasn't until we were only a few yards from it that we realised our goal was getting nearer, then there it was - a whitewashed wall! With an unexpected burst of fitness we raced to the door and bagged our quarry.

Knoydart always has had a sense of humour.

Bothy life

Bothy life is not for the idle. Once we had established ourselves we had to do two things, light a fire and locate a water source and stock up with water. Sourlies is not a warm bothy, it wins on location but it is a cold, dank, damp, miserable and dingy place (I get the feeling I'm not selling it here) we eventually got a good fire going both nights but to get any real heat from the fire you had to sit a maximum of about six inches away from it! 

I have great respect for anyone who can sleep in a bothy, I mean a sleeping bag on a roll mat on either wood or stone, it's hardly conducive to sleep is it. Some say if you don't have a good night's sleep then you maybe did'nt need it - well I was desperate for rest but my body just refused to get behind the wall of sleep. Our repast for the duration was the legendery Wayfarer meals. To enjoy a Wayfarer it's helpful if you're starving, exhausted and desperate. We enjoyed ours.

 

The following day was our only full day in the Rough Bounds of Knoydart and the rewards of exertion, endurance and deprivation were commensurate. The sky was biscuit tin blue and everywhere had a toothpaste advert freshness, mountain peaks surrounded us like giant chess pieces towering over disobedient schoolchildren. We had planned to bag a Munro or two but we just couldn't shake off our tiredness. Were we disappointed? How could you be, around here? The kernel of the challenge was to get to the bothy and back, with that mindset we bad a womble round for a few hours around the bays as far as Carnoch to just passed  Camusory and it was all just sheer loveliness.

Sgur na Ciche

fallen masonry

The return leg was a case of really digging deep, a head down and hoods up attitude as the rain relentlessly tried to lower our morale. This was exacerbated for me by a sprained knee (can't think why) I had to sway my leg rather than bend it. James made the magnanimous gesture of swapping the tent which was wonderful, now not only had I lost 11lb but James had gained 11lb - we were on level pegging.

The last great mental challenge was to remove our sodden clothes and alight the car, I don't honestly know how I managed that, my fingers went numb in the wind and rain, I had to kind of kick my boots off. Yet we soon moved on and the next thing we knew we were adjusting our horizons to the bar at the superb Ben Nevis hotel. We had done it!

Yes, enjoyment is retrospective. As time molifies all those rough edges - a sore back, twisted knee, bruises on my skin from the rucksack straps, the odd blister, black toe nails etc what is firmly etched on my internal hard drive is Sourlies bothy looking out towards the pellucid waters of Loch Nevis.

Sourlies

A sanctuary of peace in our troubled world

patiently you sit there looking down the loch

ever since the dawn of civilisation

you saw empires fall from your iron age broch

just before Mother Time marches on relentless

we take on the chances that we missed in our youth

when history refuses to repeat itself

and we all have to stand and face the truth

looking down Loch Nevis bathed in morning sun

aware of a freedom that we never had known

when you come home once more nothing has changed

water laps the shore and the winds howl and moan

oblivious of time, of future and of past

amidst moated moorland and ribs of rock

the warmth of love emanates from your hearth

as you sit in quiet torpor staring down the loch.

I sometimes think as I climb up my own beaufort scale, will I be able to do another bothy trip? Or perhaps is it time to call it a day and pass the baton on to the younger generation. Then I start perousing the maps and think "maybe I've got another one in me....

..yes of course I'll do another one!"

 KTDA, Marky x