BONNY LANDS
Cape Wrath is closer to the Arctic Circle than it is to London – no wonder, then, that it is the finale to one of Britain’s wildest walks, says Daniel Graham
The Atlantic winds beating the rockarmoured door of Cape
Wrath are fierce. They push and pull in the same brackish breath, seize energy and hound eardrums, blow tears from eyes. Rain falls, snatched by the squall and tossed like sand against frigid cheeks.
The roar and adrenaline of it is difficult to suppress, until
a rock pipit flits by, peeping
“what storm?” as it settles with impossible precision among the coastal scrub.
This is Cape Wrath, a land of ferocious drama and quiet beauty. Those wanting to visit the most north-westerly point of mainland Britain could catch the ferry across the Kyle of Durness then journey overland by bus to the peninsula’s eponymous lighthouse. But there is a second and altogether wilder way to reach land’s end.
MILES OF MOUNTAINS
Beginning in Fort William, the 230-mile Cape Wrath Trail takes two to three weeks to complete.
It is entirely unmarked. In fact, with no official route, it’s not really a trail at all but instead a guideline through the loneliest expanses of the Scottish Highlands, from the remote ridgelines of Knoydart and the great sea lochs of Wester Ross to Assynt’s immense gneiss mountains and Sutherland’s white-sand shores.
A lack of services means walkers need to carry food between resupply points and camping gear in the event that bothies are full. Sections of the way are pathless, so strong navigational skills are essential, while boot-engulfing bogs and river crossings make the notion of dry feet but a distant dream.
BARRISDALE BEAUTY
In many ways, the hardships of the walk are a reflection of its splendour, and it is perhaps the most isolated sections that burn the brightest in the hiker’s soul. Case in point are the six miles between Barrisdale Bay and Kinloch Hourn in Knoydart. When the sun shines, seals can be seen lazing on Loch Hourn’s rocky shores; when it rains, they drop into the water leaving whirlpools in their wake. Streams hang from the mountaintops. Clouds pulse. Boots tramp. The path slaloms, hugging the water like a driftline before arriving at Kinloch Hourn, where shelter, food and a bed can be sought at the cosy Lochhournhead B&B and Tea Rooms.
“THE TRAIL JOURNEYS FROM THE REMOTE RIDGELINES OF KNOYDART TO SUTHERLAND’S WHITE-SAND SHORES”