The Black Spout and Duncansby Head

Tuesday 28th August 2018
(and Tuesday 25th July 2000, and Wednesday 5th September 2018)

After spending three nights in the small town of Pitlochry, which lies just outside the Cairngorms National Park, I had several hours spare before heading north so I made my way towards a tall waterfall that I had previously visited when I was in Pitlochry in 2014. On that occasion the waterfall had been a diversion added to the end of an already long walk, but now it was the primary goal of an admittedly short walk. I headed off along the main road that passes through Pitlochry for a bit, passing the Blair Atholl Distillery, before branching off onto a track that enters Black Spout Wood after passing underneath the railway line. It was rather dark under the thick canopy of trees but a clear track headed into the wood and was clearly signposted so at the appropriate moment I turned right onto a path that climbs through the wood until eventually I emerged at a viewpoint opposite the tall Black Spout waterfall in its setting amongst an idyllic woodland surround. Although it wasn’t sunny the waterfall still looked stunning as it cascades down a series of falls of varying sizes. After taking some pictures I tried to get a closer view but this proved impossible on the sheer cliff-faces of the bowl that the waterfall has carved out for itself.

Following the path brought me up to the stream just above the falls where the Edradour Burn passes through damp, moss-rich woodland in delightful surroundings that would have been a lovely place to visit even if there wasn’t a tall waterfall a short distance downstream. After taking yet more pictures of this tranquil scene I followed the stream up not wanting to leave the water’s edge and eventually came upon a signpost that pointed towards a narrow enclosed path between the woodland and some fields, heading to Edradour. Rather than taking this path I noticed an unsignposted path heading back down to the stream crossing it by a bridge that is marked on O.S. maps as going to Colivoulin Farm, but after crossing the bridge I saw a faint trail that headed through the weeds beside the burn upstream. This proved too tempting for me to ignore so I followed the trail back down to the water’s edge as I slowly followed the increasingly tricky and slippery path through a dark, but magical, ravine. Eventually I came to the edge of Edradour Distillery where empty casks could be seen on the far side of the burn, but with an unclimbable fence also barring further progress.

Reluctantly I retraced my way along the slippery trail back to the bridge and followed the path out of the wood up to Colivoulin Farm where I was able to follow the farm track onto the road not far from Edradour Distillery. I was interesting in visiting this distillery, which trades itself on its small size, but the one hour tour would not have left me with much time to get back to Pitlochry to catch the train, so reluctantly I had to be satisfied with buying a sample of their heavily peated Ballechin whisky, which as a fan of smoky whiskies I would prefer rather than the regular non-peated Edradour. On leaving the distillery behind I took the signposted path back to Pitlochry that initially passed through some fields before plunging once more into Black Spout Wood gradually descending until the path crossed the Kinnaird Burn and after passing around the edge of the Atholl Palace Hotel I eventually reached the main road just outside Pitlochry.

I caught the train and headed north all the way up to the city of Inverness where, after a short diversion to have a look at the River Ness, I went to the bus station to catch the Express coach to Orkney. I had been to Orkney just once before, way back in the year 2000, before when I started to walk on every day of every holiday I got. I had been staying at the John O’Groats Youth Hostel, which used to be in the village of Canisbay a few miles away until it closed. On the day I arrived in 2000, straight after booking in, I ventured into the misty wetness of typical Caithness low cloud and walked for the four miles past John O’Groats, the village famed for the being the furthest point north in Britain, to the spectacular cliff faces of Duncansby Head, the actual furthest point north-east in Britain. The rock formations were amazing despite the misty weather conditions and the fading light of the evening, which made the long walk along the road to get there worth it, even including the four miles to get back to the youth hostel again. Walking may not have been the primary aim of my holidays back then, but I still did a fair amount.

The next day I caught the bus to the complex of buildings beside the sea just north of the village of John O’Groats, which is the spot that has been adopted by the tourists as the most northerly point, and it is from this point that the day tours of Orkney set off during the summer. On that day in 2000 I took the Highlights Day Tour of Orkney, which still runs, taking the ferry across the turbulent Pentland Firth and around those magical islands. When I returned to John O’Groats after the tour I resolved to come back to Orkney and spend a longer time on the islands to really explore, but then events intervened. Firstly, while waiting for the bus back to Canisbay, I heard that Concorde had crashed, which precisely dates my visit, and then later I became more interested in climbing mountains, and since there are no mountains in Orkney they held little interest for me. Thus it was that eighteen years passed before I returned to the tourist resort near John O’Groats to await the ferry across to Orkney. The coach had dropped me off with more than an hour to spare before the ferry left and I would like to say that I took advantage of the time to wander along the coast, but that would be a lie.

It was cold and windy that day so I just tried to stay warm, but when I came back from Orkney I had a similar wait for the bus so with better weather I made my way along a path that attempts to follow the shore. Erosion has forced diversions but a way could still be made with the low buildings of the John O’Groats complex (and ferry terminal) behind me as I headed beside the sea, around Robert’s Haven and in a very short time I reached the short headland of the Ness of Duncansby. Without the time to continue along the coast to Duncansby Head I turned around and headed back to the tourist trap. A week earlier I had been standing wrapped up against the cold winds impatiently waiting for the ferry to arrive at the end of a long day of contrasts that had seen me walking through dark woodland, getting trapped in a shallow gorge, and briefly visited one of the smallest distilleries in Scotland before travelling by train and coach all the way to the famed John O’Groats. All of this faded in memory compared with the prospect of finally, after eighteen years, returning to the Orkney Islands. My return visit may have been long in waiting, but I was not to be disappointed.

Beinn Mheadhonach

Monday 27th August 2018

Climbing mountains was not part of my plan for this holiday, which is a shame so it was tempting for me to sneak in a mountain before I headed elsewhere. It would be my only mountain in Scotland this year, but at least I would have got up a mountain in Scotland. Despite a bit of drizzle first thing in the morning when I got on the train in Pitlochry, it stopped soon after I got off the train at the next station along the line, Blair Atholl, and breaks in the clouds made me hopeful for better weather. Leaving the station I turned left immediately after crossing the River Tilt to enter woodland that follows the river upstream. I had needed little motivation to return to Glen Tilt for a walk beside this fabulous river and stunning valley that is full of delights for many miles and immediately on my reacquaintance I was once again mesmerised by the brown, peat-stained waters that rush over a rock-filled bed lined by glorious woodland. My previous visits to Glen Tilt have been in late spring when the wood is full of the white flowers of wild garlic and, although the flowers have now gone, I still had a lovely walk through the wood while the sound of the river roaring over the rapids was reassuringly close by.

Far too soon the path ended at a road that took me over the Old Bridge of Tilt and after a short distance I turned right onto a track that headed steeply up Glen Tilt. I soon realised that on my previous visits to Glen Tilt I had been descending the valley and consequently I was now enjoying a new experience with plenty of time to explore, so when I noticed a yellow topped post marking a path heading into the trees I took it heading down to the river. It emerges overlooking the gorge, but with a view of some sort of dam, perhaps, judging from the map, where the Fender Burn joins the river. Unimpressed I followed the path back onto the main track and later continued to follow the yellow topped posts when they branched off the track heading up the side of the valley, however after crossing a stream I wondered where this path was going so, possibly erring on the side of caution, I turned right along a grassy lane that was still wet from the recent rain, and descended all the way back down to the main track and across the river. With occasional views down to the spectacular river and through cold, dark conifer trees I continued along the lane until I reached Gilbert’s Bridge where after crossing over I rejoined the yellow marked trail through a gate and before long I was descending into a meadow at the bottom of the valley.

Ahead of me were views of heather-clad hills to the north of the valley as the sun briefly came out which made the whole scene look great. The narrow path through the meadow eventually returned me to the track as the yellow Glen Tilt Trail continued up the valley until I reached a bridge over the Allt Mhairc where a little climbing brought me to a viewpoint over Glen Tilt besides some ruins of old houses, which is sadly typical of the Highlands of Scotland. After a look at the view I left the trail behind me and followed a faint path beside the stream that led me away from the valley towards two mountains that were clearly in view ahead of me. Beinn a’ Chait was to the left while my target lay to the right, Beinn Mheadhonach, which was reached by crossing an ancient bridge that is contradictorily called New Bridge. This didn’t seem to lead anywhere so I was curious to know why it had been built in such an isolated location, although maybe hundreds of years ago this wasn’t such an isolated location and people once lived in these now empty glens. A narrow path took me up the hillside as I steadily climbed broad grass and heather slopes under grey clouds with the sun proving very illusive. After a long and tiring climb, the terrain steepened where rock began to appear on the ground and I found a well-built cairn that looks back down towards Glen Tilt.

Since this cairn is not on the path I had difficulty getting back until eventually I found a narrow trail that follows the eastern slopes of the hill, but, although this was initially a good path and sheltered me from the cold winds, it soon became evident that this was no more than a sheep-trod and began to fade. Eventually I turned straight uphill and clambered steeply through heather and bilberry to slowly climb back up to the top of the ridge where the terrain had narrowed noticeably. With scattered rock covering the ground, this ridge is noticeably narrower than on any of the other smooth-sided hills in the area, and it was this that had drawn my eye on the map and led to my climbing this particular hill. Beyond, the ridge broadened into a grassy dome with a cairn at the top, although the map seems to indicate this is not the summit, so I kept going along the broad ridge passing over another broad grassy dome, however when I looked back it seemed obvious to me that the cairn had actually been the summit of this Corbett-classed mountain. When the terrain finally started to descend at the end of the summit ridge I stopped and found a sheltered place where I could have my lunch while gazing out over the open mountain scenery.

If I’d felt energetic I could have continued along the ridge passing over several lesser tops before climbing to reach the Munro of Beinn Dearg, but I wasn’t bothered. I had been looking for a pretty straight-forward and relatively easy walk up a mountain and I was in no mood to strain myself simply to bag a Munro. Beinn Mheadhonach is more than nine hundred metres high so is almost of Munro status, but I wasn’t interested in classifications. The hills to the north were lying under dark clouds and a cold wind was blowing, so after eating I wrapped up and headed back along the ridge, passing the summit cairn and the delightfully narrowing terrain with brighter views south ahead of me. Slowly I retraced my steps down the heather slopes, back across New Bridge and eventually returned to the viewpoint over Glen Tilt. Now I resumed my progress along the Glen Tilt Trail on a narrow path following the yellow-topped posts up the valley while enjoying tremendous views along glorious Glen Tilt, despite grey skies. Just as I was beginning to think I had made a mistake in not heading straight back to Blair Atholl, Gaw’s Bridge finally came into view where, after crossing, I turned right to head back down the valley.

Before too long the yellow-topped posts took me off the main track again onto a grassy lane that keeps above the trees maintaining the contour high above Glen Tilt until finally I reached a tarmac road that led me steeply down to Bridge of Tilt. This was a great little walk that allowed me to stretch my legs climbing a mountain, even if it’s not a Munro, and once high I was able to enjoy that great feeling of being amongst Scottish mountains. The opportunity to explore Glen Tilt was a wonderful bonus to this walk and made it more than worth the effort as this is a fabulous valley with great views throughout its length.

The Birks of Aberfeldy

Sunday 26th August 2018

On the day before this walk I came up to Scotland in lovely, sunny weather reminiscent of the fabulous, hot, dry summer that was now coming to an end and woke to grey, overcast skies heavy with rain. After all the dry weather the rain was back and normal service in Britain was resumed. When I reached the town of Pitlochry I had taken advantage of the warm, dry evening to take a walk around the town, down to the river and up to the dam. It was a nice way to unwind after the long journey. The following morning I retraced my steps down to the River Tummel crossing the suspension bridge just a short distance downstream of Loch Faskally dam before passing the Festival Theatre and up into the conifer plantation beyond. Soon the wide track was left behind and I was climbing a narrow path through woodland that was lined with devil’s bit scabious, bracken and loads of pale orange mushrooms thriving in the damp conditions.

Rain lingered in the air and would soon fall in earnest, but for now I had a brief respite as I climbed the hillside eventually reaching the top where I passed the remains of stone circles. The trees have closed in on the archaeology preventing access, so I continued along the path and out onto the open moorland on the southern slopes of the hill. This was a much more agreeable landscape with heather, gorse and broom shrub covering the ground and with views into the distance of the mist shrouding the Tay valley. Slowly, with increasing rainfall, the path brought me down the hillside through pleasingly wild terrain into a young oak wood and to the village of Strathtay at the bottom of the valley. My route out of Pitlochry was on the Rob Roy Way and after crossing the River Tay this took me onto the course of a disused railway. By this point it was raining quite heavily so there was not much for me to see as I made my way along, which is often the case on old railway lines as the scenery doesn’t change with nothing to see but the line stretching far into the distance. The most interesting point was when the line seemed to sit at the top of a very high and narrow embankment surrounded by dense woodland, but it would have looked more dramatic in better weather.

Eventually I came off the old railway line and dropped down to beside the River Tay where more wild flowers decorated the scene, although there was also a heavy density of the invasive balsam, which provided a sweet aroma to the wet surroundings as I made my way through the heavy rain and into the village of Aberfeldy. After having my lunch I noticed that the rain had eased so I headed off towards the Birks of Aberfeldy, which is a spectacular gorge made famous by the poet Robert Burns. I don’t know the song, but that didn’t prevent me from enjoying the walk along a well-constructed path that weaves through the birch trees beside the Moness Burn as it falls through a deep ravine in a stunning setting. Woodland ravines such as this are magical places no matter what the weather and I thoroughly enjoyed the climb despite the resumption of heavy rain as I neared the Falls of Moness where Burns was prompted to write his famous song. Getting a good view in these gorges is difficult and at Aberfeldy the path has to climb steeply to get high above the burn to a spot where a view can be made through the trees of the waterfall, although even from this spot vigorous growth of young trees has marred some of the view.

The path continued beyond the viewpoint descending to a bridge that sat just above the falls with quite vertiginous views down the full height of the waterfall. Heading away from the falls I took a path that heads west gradually descending across the open hillside in the pouring rain to eventually reach the farm of Dunskiag where I turned sharp right to head back east towards Aberfeldy. On reaching the Moness Dun Wood I dropped back down to the burn and followed it downstream back into the village where I caught a bus back to Pitlochry. This was really a very short walk around the gorge that had inspired a Burns song and extended by walking along the Rob Roy Way from Pitlochry. It was still not really long enough for me, but I didn’t want to go to any further lengths to prolong the walk due to the rain, which had prompted me to make a late start and an early finish. As well as the Birks of Aberfeldy themselves, I also enjoyed the walk over the hill from Pitlochry to Strathtay, especially the descent through heather and oak woodland, so despite the poor weather I have to say this was still a good walk.