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.
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