Ladhar Bheinn, Knoydart
Walk from sea to summit of the highest mountain in the roughest, most badass area of mainland Scotland.
To do this walk requires some proper forethought. First you need to get to Inverie. There is no road to this small, scattered settlement, as it’s stuck out on Scotland’s west coast peninsula of Knoydart. Instead you’ll need to catch a ferry from Mallaig, just a few miles further south. And as Ladhar Bheinn from Inverie is a full day, you’re going to need to get there the day before and leave the day after. If you’ve made the effort though, stay as long as you can – the weather here is fickle. Plan ahead as facilities are limited, and even some of the bothies around here need to be booked. Oh, and there’s only one pub, but more of that later...
We’re going to work a clockwise circuit from Inverie. Starting in front of the pier at map point 1 (page 108, grid ref NG765002), a series of forestry tracks allow for an easy start to the day – you’re going to need it. Before you leave for the hills, it’s worth checking the skies over the bay. I can remember seeing a pair of white-tailed eagles high above the water, on a day when you’d have thought nothing would be flying. The birds were huge, and seemed to resemble dragons. Once you’re done with those mythical beasts, then the first kilometre or two are on tracks through plantation woodland. The first patch doesn’t last long, the views widen at the northern edge of the trees, then
you see the usual overgrazed, treeless uplands. But there are still small patches of birch, tucked into stream banks, away from the ever-hungry red deer.
Initially, we’re following All Mhuilinn north, upstream. At map point 2 (NG766027), Folach Gate, take the right-hand fork in the track, through this second block of trees. Another fifteen minutes gets you to the edge of the plantation. As you step out of the trees, an impressive river, the Abhainn Inbhir Ghuiserein, can be seen to the left. It’s the huge, towering inferno of rock to the north-east that’s of more concern and, more importantly, delight. Because that huge, monstrous ridge, if the cloud is letting you see it, includes Ladhar Bheinn and its stinging tail, further to the east. This is what you came for. It’s one hell of a mountain, with a huge glen to match. It’s worth looking a bit deeper, remembering features and contour changes along the ridge, while you can appreciate the thing in its entirety from a distance.
This kilometre of easy walking is to be enjoyed, so keep your head up and admire what you’re about to do. The righthand fork of the river soon leads to a footbridge (map point 3, NG791033). Cross it to the northern shore and the next patch of plantation. Head east along this southern edge of the trees until you reach the corner. It’s from here (map point 4, NG798033) that you need to plot a course up Coire Garbh to An Diollaid, the obvious flattening in the ridge line, before it continues up more steeply to the summit. There’s a stream that goes most of the way up the coire, so if you’re somewhere near that then you won’t be far off the mark. Heading up the flank of the ridge from the corner of the plantation means you’ll be off-path, but you’ll be taking the ridge at its easiest angle. You need to be confident in reading terrain and following bearings – this is big mountain country. It certainly isn’t the Lake District, which is why we’ve made the effort to get here.
The next hour will hurt. Expect it, embrace it, love it, curse it! You know what the rewards are; views that grow with every metre of height gained. The slog starts easy enough, then stiffens as you get into the top half of the climb. The first time I climbed Ladhar Bheinn I came this way. It was bad weather, and rather galling putting in the effort knowing full well it wasn’t going to be worth it. This is the problem with these far-flung mountains that take a great deal of effort and planning to climb, you’re far less likely to change plans at the last minute. All I’ll say is, if it looks like it’s not going to be a good day then save it. Give yourself a reason to come back. I remember virtually nothing from the first two times I climbed this mountain, but from the third ascent I could write a book. There are ways to get your head around big climbs; start a conversation with your walking partner and make it last the whole way up, plug in the earphones and drop out to some tunes if you’re on your own (or have had enough of your companion), or just suck it up. I focus on the world around my feet, looking closely at the moss and lichen that blanket the mountainsides and before you know it you’re up the worst of it.
Your world will change when you get to the level bit in the ridge at An Diollaid (map point 5, NG811044). OK, only a little bit, but it will change. The hard climb is over, and you’re now on, I think, one of the most memorable mountain ridges in the country. It’s not a spiky spectacle in the sky, like the Cuillins just out to the northwest, but it is a long, high, sleeping dragon of a mountain. The views are good at this point, particularly to the other side of the horseshoe route you’re going to be walking today. The real prime vistas are yet to come though, we need a bit more height.
There’s a good, clean stretch of uphill ridge walking to do to get to Ladhar Bheinn’s summit. It’s only as you reach the high, horizontal section of ridge, just before the trig point, that the view to the north suddenly opens up. That trig point, by the way, doesn’t mark the summit, which is 10m higher and several hundred metres further along the ridge. It’s of the cylindrical variety (the trig point) and is, or was the last time I saw it, only half
“LOOKING BOTH WAYS ALONG THIS RIDGE, YOU’RE EXPERIENCING MOUNTAIN WALKING PERFECTION”
of its former self. I like the fact that it isn’t on the true top. Once at map point
(NG824039), the true top, take that bag off, sit down and take it in. Looking north you’ll see Loch Hourn (or loch Hell as it has been known). I struggle to think of many more beautiful sights in this country of ours than that stretch of water, particularly at a place called Barrisdale Bay. From there, islands pepper the loch’s surface, and in May the eerie call of black-throated divers can be heard, drifting over the water. It’s as if the lost souls of this place refuse to leave.
Looking both ways along this part of the ridge makes you realise you’re experiencing mountain walking perfection. The ridge itself is the ideal width for walking, the drop to either side just right to allow deep, immediate views. The land to the north of the summit, down to Loch Hourn, is owned by the John Muir Trust. Large swaths of the rest of the 55,000 acres that make up Knoydart are owned by the Knoydart foundation. Actually, this area has an interesting history when it comes to ownership – the Highland clearances happening in the mid-1800s, and a more recent, unsuccessful, claim to crofting rights in the 1940s, by claimants know as the ‘seven men of Knoydart’. There’s even a memorial to them, back in Inverie. It’s worth, before you arrive, having a look at the history. Those that went before deserve that respect.
Back to the walking. Yes, we’ve summited, but oh my gosh there is so much more left to do. On paper it doesn’t sound like much, but the going is going to be long and slow. A short distance further along the ridge to the south-east is another top (map point 7, NG826039). This has a lovely ridge leading off to the north, a great way up if you come back and want to climb this mountain from the Loch Hourn side. The coire to the east, Coire Dhorrcail, is beautiful. The drop over the ridge as we head along the coire’s head wall is savage. The ridge is initially straightforward as it descends, but soon gets ‘complicated’ as it bucks and rears, requiring concentration in all aspects; route-finding and surefootedness. It is the hardest part of the day. What you thought was only going to take a short time, all of a sudden, is robbing you of way more of the day than you expected. Welcome to Knoydart! Before we leave the big stuff, know that this is possible golden eagle territory.
After the complicated bit, a col is reached (map point 8, NG835031), Beach Coire Dhorrcail. Looking west you can see down the glen to where we started to climb, and to the north-east Loch Hourn lays at the end of Coire Dhorrcail. Next are straightforward climbs onto tops that give distant glimpses of Barrisdale Bay. At map point
(NG840027), the spot height of 849m, the ridge makes a definite turn to southsouth-west then, more broadly to the south-west, starting on its romp home.
Pacing yourself is the order of the day. This bit of the ridge is extremely enjoyable and relatively easy, albeit long and needing that extra lunch break to fuel you through it. If you can be bothered this is the kind of epic walk that benefits from carrying a stove. To stop and brew-up makes you pause for longer. For me it’s those pauses that I remember, and they also give you renewed energy to carry on.
About two and a half kilometres of this return section of ridge brings you to another col, Mam Suidheig (map point 10, NG815018). This is a convenient place to leave the ridge, heading south off-path to regain a wide track at the base of the glen. Once at map point 11 (NG816004) the western end of Loch an Dubh-Lochain (a suitably large target to aim for when heading off-path from a fair distance away), that gorgeously easy track will pamper your tired legs for the next five kilometres or so. Initially following the Inverie River, it then reclaims civilisation, or Knoydart’s version of it, via the medium of more plantations.
Then it’s just a case of getting yourself to the Old Forge Inn (the most remote pub in mainland Britain) to get a glass of cool, amber ale, sit in a deckchair by the bay and let white-tailed eagles cast shadows over you, as tiredness has its way. Simples.