Exploring Wild Waters

The John Muir Trust's land on Skye includes some spectacular lochs which can be explored by canoe or kayak.

Loch na Sgubaidh in the shadow of Blaven, black and unsettling. The walk in here is troublesome. The path disappears into the water and for the rest of the trail boggy pools suck greedily at your feet. The wind, tunnelled between the steep granitic flanks of Beinn na Cro, mountain of cattle and the basalt crags of Belig, is fickle and restlessly shifts direction. This is an eerie, sinister place but the long, wet slog is rewarding. Strath Mor is one of South Skye's less travelled beauty spots.

There is an intense and undeniable ancient presence in this glen. Strath is rich in neolithic and Iron Age sites, High Pasture cave is only 3 miles from here and the standing stones at Kilmarie are about another 3 miles towards Elgol. Clach Oscar, so-called for the old Fenian legends shared by Ireland and Scotland, lies a few hundred yards from the path in is one of the rare 'ringing stones' which resounds at different pitches when struck. But this is not all. Loch na Sgubaidh holds a deep secret. Submerged in its black depths is a crannog.

Crannogs (Bronze and Iron Age man-made island dwellings) are not uncommon, but not many people I've talked to know about the one in Loch na Sgubaidh. We noticed it by observing the perimeter shape of the reed beds. It can be seen- if you know what to look for, from the summit of Blaven and by climbing about 100 m up the side of Beinn na Cro.

Canoeing the loch was an irresistable challenge. Parking at the bridge at Loch Slapin we carried and floated her up the stream, lifting her over the gravel shallows and rapids for about half a km until the loch opened out and we could paddle out into the peaty blackness, the prow of the canoe splicing the mirror-still surface. We were entirely alone. The only sound besides the swish and splash of our strokes was the hiss of a mountain cataract on Belig and the occasional call of a wild duck. Pure magic!

Reaching the location of the crannog blackness yielded to clarity. We could see bottom and the reeds growing upwards, but could tell that the crannog's base was still quite a long way down. I couldn't touch it with the length of my paddle. If there was any lost treasure down there, bones, metal or the like, you'd need to dive for it. Still, it fascinated us, the possibility. The ancient ghost dwelling of this spooky loch.

We made an attempt at Abhainn na Stratha Mhor to see if we could follow the water North-East and break through into the smaller lochans further ahead.We pushed hard into the current, manoeuvering the canoe into the first few wide and deeply cut meanders, but the river ran shallow soon after. Running aground a few times too many, we decided to cut our losses and turn back. The current took us into Sgubaidh's dark heart once again with the light that comes just before rain breaking on the Western horizon.

WLA Blaven path- day 2: wild flower spotting

I was out on Blaven path again yesterday for the John Muir Trust, the first time this year I could feel real heat in the sun. A perfect day for hill walking, and with that in mind I packed my kit on to my bike an cycled the 8 miles to the car park, knowing the beautiful ride out through Torrin would put me in good spirits.

Having no real plan for the day apart from cleaning up any litter in the car park and chatting to people as they came and went from the mountain, I was delighted to be joined by my friend and fellow member of the Skye WLA team, Shirley Grant.

There's something about following a familiar trail with somebody with an artist's eye that makes even the slightest, most inconsequential thing seem extra-ordinary. And so our short walk to the waterfall took on the feel of a David Attenburgh documentary. Shirley was out to photograph orchids. I'd seen them on the lower path, but the dry spell had brought with it a growth spurt that obscured them from our view. We noted ultramarine spikes of milkwort, yellow tormentil, the deep magenta blaze of bell heather, thick tufts of bog myrtle and what Shirley told me was goat willow, with its velvety foliage and fluffy flower-heads. The june bog-cotton waved gently in the breeze. We even found whorls of not-yet flowering butterwort and beside it, sundew's spiky 'grabber' hands.

We had almost reached the falls by the time we found our first orchids, hiding furtively in the long meadow grass, deep purple and pale pink speckled heads. Beautiful little wild things and bearing no resemblance to their ostentatious tropical name-sakes, but somehow more lovely and more precious.

We'll come back here over the next couple of weeks. I wonder what we'll find...

Tell us what you see
Maybe if you're reading this and thinking of a trip up Blaven you'll let us know if you spot anything of interest along the path, or post your photos on the John Muir Trust's facebook site? We'd love to hear about your experiences.