Island treasure on a lochside walk among the pines
An abandoned island castle, in a loch hidden from view, is encountered on a pathway through the ancient Caledonian pine forest
IN THE PINEWOODS surrounding the Cairngorm mountains is a loch glittering in the mild sunlight of a day caught between spring and summer. Its moss-green island, not far from the shore, is only just big enough for the small ruined castle it bears. Trees budding with tender young leaves stand among the roofless rooms, whose walls, in places, run straight down into the clear waters, lapping gently but insistently against centuries-old stones. Their quiet splash and the ruffle of the wind in the trees is interrupted momentarily by the lonely croak of a passing raven, soaring towards the rising hills of the Cairngorm massif.
This is Loch an Eilein, a small loch fed by sparkling mountain streams which sing down from the heights of the Cairngorms National Park, approximately 30 miles south of Inverness. Its name is Scots Gaelic for ‘the Loch of the Island’. In the Highlands, valleys, hills and lochs are often named for their most distinctive characteristic, and there are at least 11 with this same plain-language moniker. This one, though, is the most well-known, partly because of its striking beauty, but also for its ease of access.
It is only 2½ miles from Aviemore and 4 miles from the junction with the A9, the main road from Edinburgh to the far north which has been called ‘the spine of Scotland’. Its dedicated car park is only a few yards from the start of the walk, and a broad, well-signposted track circles the lake in a gentle 3-mile (5km) loop. Yet to visit is to step into a primeval forest at the edge of high mountains where rare wildlife thrives.
Out of sight
On a clear, calm day, the island castle is reflected almost perfectly in the trembling sheen of the loch, in a vista hidden by the trees. At the car park, it is still out of view. Here, the fee is paid at a small cabin and a sandy track followed south into the forest. The fresh, heady tang of pine resin fills the air as the path passes
between the fissured trunks of the Scots pine and bone white silver birch.
Slivers of blue sky are soon glimpsed through the pillars of the trees, and the sense of open space can be felt. Then the path joins with other tracks beside a patch of cropped turf, near a tiny beach strewn with granite boulders. A blue loch, sparkling with sunlight, lies ahead. The body of the loch curves around to the west and cannot yet be seen, but just before the turn is the island, with its ruined castle.
Though rarely crowded, this is still a popular spot. Children abandon their shoes to paddle in the cool water. Parents skim stones; walkers emerge from the trees. Others simply sit and allow themselves to become transfixed by the view. Behind the loch, Creag Dubh rises 2,782ft (848m) to meet the clouds. Though it appears enormous, it is a mere hillock in comparison to the giants which lurk behind, the tallest of which rises an additional 1,513 ft (461m). Patches of snow can sometimes be seen in the upper reaches of the hill as late as May.
The loch takes the rough outline of a scribbled boot, and the walk begins at the head of the loch and the top of the boot.
“This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses” William Shakespeare, Macbeth
The path is generally flat, well-surfaced and can be walked in either direction. This route follows it anti-clockwise, turning immediately right across stony ground. It leads slightly away from the shore, where ducks and their fluffy offspring dabble in the shallows, and straight into the stately trees.
Ancient woodland
The loch and woodland are part of Rothiemurchus, a fragment of the ancient Caledonian Forest. This once covered up to 1.5 million hectares across almost the whole of Scotland, in a mix of Scots pine, birch, rowan, aspen and juniper, where moose, lynx and brown bears roamed. Its extent was such that it gave rise to the Roman name for Scotland, Caledonia, meaning ‘wooded heights’. Some of the trees growing here are descendants of the oldest specimens, which arrived following the last ice age; their ancestry dating to circa 7000BC. As the climate became progressively wetter and more windy, the extent of the forest reduced, and at the beginning of the bronze age, human impact began to scrape away at the rest. Woods were cleared for timber, grazing and agriculture until, by the 18th century, it had been reduced to 18,000 hectares in 35 remnants of varying sizes. Many of these exist on rocky or steep ground, difficult to farm or access. On the edge of the Cairngorm mountains, the largest contiguous land mass in the UK, Rothiemurchus is one of the largest.
The path leads straight into this ancient woodland where the average age of the Scots pine, Pinus sylvestris var. sylvestris, is 100 years old, with some elders reaching up 300 years of age. The tallest commonly reach up to 65ft (20m), though it is possible for them to grow as tall as 150ft (46m). This height, along with the straightness of the trunk and the particularly resinous wood made them a popular choice for ships’ masts and telegraph poles. Their bark, when mature, is scaly and reddish-brown, appearing almost salmon-coloured in the slanting sunlight at the start and close of day.
The needles are blue-green and grow approximately 1½-3in (4-7cm) long. Throughout spring and summer, the new growth is especially noticeable, showing as pale green, catkin-like ‘candles’, sprouting several inches long and generally upright at the end of the branches.
The trees can survive in poor conditions, such as acidic bog and exposed uplands and, for this reason, are classified as a pioneer species. Here, in the Rothiemurchus Forest around Loch an Eilein, their existence supports the entire ecosystem, from common lichens to
“But every lake without its isle Is Beauty’s cheek w’thout its smile” Unknown, The Cairngorm Club Journal, 1900
rarely-seen predators, such as the Scottish wildcat, Felis silvestris silvestris.
Pine-loving birds
One bird which makes its home here is the Scottish crossbill. Among the branches, its simple ‘chup-chup-chup’ may be heard, before a quick flutter of wings flickers the light as it moves from one pine cone to another. These birds, the UK’s only endemic species, are found exclusively in the pinewoods of the Scottish Highlands. The adult males are a fiery orange-red,
“And islands that, empurpled bright, Floated amid the livelier light; And mountains, that like giants stand, To sentinel enchanted land” Sir Walter Scott, ‘Lady of the Lake, Canto 1’
with ash-grey colouring across the eyes and wings. Adult females, by contrast, have a green-yellow plumage. Both have a distinctive chunky bill, crossed at the curved, pointed tips. Shoving the bill into the scales of a pine cone, they lever it open to extract and feast on the seeds.
Some of last year’s pine cones, dry and nibbled by red squirrels, scatter the path. After bending slightly away from the loch, the track divides briefly into upper and lower sections. Both converge at Loch an Eilein cottage, situated at a slight clearing in the woods, where the shore comes closest to the island.
Fortified sanctuary
The walls of the castle can be clearly seen, up to 5ft (1.5m) thick in places. They surround a small courtyard, hall and mostly collapsed tower. Though it once provided shelter for people and their livestock, it is now inhabited only by wildlife. In 1891, Elizabeth Grant recorded in her Memoirs of a Highland Lady that they had observed ospreys nesting there and ‘skimming over the loch in search of the food required by the young eaglets, who could be seen peeping over the pile of sticks that formed their home’. Though ospreys have not been seen nesting here for a number of years, they regularly breed at Loch Garten, 7½ miles away, and can sometimes be spotted wheeling above Loch an Eilein.
The history of the ospreys in this place is documented in journals going back to the early 1900s, but the human history is less well known, and the castle’s origins
are entirely undocumented. It is believed to have been built during the 13th century by the Bishop of Moray as a well-defended house. The infamous Wolf of Badenoch, Alexander Stuart, used it as a fortified hunting lodge, adding a tower house with walls 6ft (1.8m) thick in the 1380s. The castle passed through various hands, being extended and strengthened, used to shelter fugitives from the Jacobites and as a safe house from raiders.
In the 1770s, a sluice was built so that timber could be floated down the Spey, raising the water level and flooding the causeway, which was said to have zigzagged from the shore to the island. No evidence has been found of this to date and now the only visitors to the island are birds and fish.
Tranquil retreat
The path continues along the northern shore, heading almost directly west. Between ancient trees and young slender saplings, the loch shines blue beneath the silhouetted hills. The sandy track remains broad and easy to follow and, at the westernmost point, the toe of the boot-shaped outline, climbs slightly uphill.
Here, at a T-junction, the left path is followed. It pulls more closely to the hills that have been in sight and begins to traverse their lower slopes.
To the south-west, the much smaller, reedy Loch Gamhna is connected to Loch an Eilein by a short, narrow burn. It tends to be less busy than the main route and offers a degree of peaceful solitude watching dragonflies burr from leaf to leaf. The loop can be extended to include it along a narrower, muddier track, adding approximately 45 minutes and 1.3 miles to the route. Alternatively, it can simply be admired in passing, crossing a footbridge over the burn and following the path into Inshriach Forest.
Escape route
The track now joins the notorious Rathad nam Meirleach, Gaelic for ‘the thieves’ road’. It is along here that cattle, stolen from the rich pastureland of Moray, were driven down to rugged and mountainous Lochaber. Now visited only by walkers, the path passes between the loch shore and rising ground at the foot of Creag Dubh, Gaelic for ‘black crag’. At the base of the trees grow thickets of heather and blaeberry bushes. The latter, known in England as the bilberry, are hung with small apple-red, bell-shaped flowers. In July, they will yield a rich harvest of sweetly-sour berries.
Along the way, occasional paths break off to the east, climbing into more remote areas of the mountains, where they shrink. The main path, however, is well signposted and soon curves around to the north.
Time for reflection
A footbridge crosses Milton Burn, the outflow which quickly joins the River Spey flowing north to the sea. Once across, it is just a short walk along the sandy shore, where the waters lap up against boulders and tangled roots, to the confluence of paths that leads back to the car park. There are benches here and a patch of sunlit turf, which provide the perfect spot for a picnic so the last view of the loch can be enjoyed at leisure; the castle, moored in the waves; the branches of ancient pine twisting skyward and the Cairngorm massif, where the clouds cast their shifting shadows. It would be easy to believe that this scene has not changed for hundreds of years, but this is not quite true.