Sunday, August 30, 2009

Weds. Aug 5th, Camusdarrach Beach Walk




This walk was supposed to be, according to my Make Tracks map, a "stroll," an easy walk along the beaches from Glenancross to Traigh or, if I was feeling adventurous (which unfortunately I was) all the way to Arisaig. My map was right about the first part. My taxi driver friend drove me from Mallaig to Glenancross at about 9 a.m. and we agreed that I would phone her when I was ready to be picked up. I told her I planned to be in Arisaig by mid afternoon. And off I went.

The laminated instructions were very detailed and I progressed well along the beaches, enjoying the sunny day and meeting up with lots of people (and dogs) enjoying the August weather.












I watched this three-legged golden lab keep up with his black companions, enjoying the surf.












As you can see from the way these folks are dressed though, beautiful as the day turned out to be, it's still wise to have long sleeved shirts and long trousers, at least in the Highland mornings.










Although Morar's beaches don't sing, they are still that beautiful silvery color like Eigg's.









It only took a little over an hour, even with all the stops I made to enjoy the scenery--and the views of the small isles again--to reach Traigh Beach. The map gave me the alternative at this point to return to Mallaig via the golf course across the road from the beach or to extend my walk another two hours to Arisaig.






I looked at the folks playing golf, amazed that dogs tagged along on the course, and decided that I would continue on along the beaches to Arisaig. So turning my back on the golf course, I ventured down on the beaches once again.








It was shortly after meeting these folks that I began to find the hike difficult. I scrambled over the rocky outcroppings, looking for the best way around the coves. It was often difficult to find my footing and I don't have the greatest sense of balance. I knew that I was heading in the right general direction by keeping to the coast.






After watching this family of gulls for several minutes, the rocks became too difficult for me to clamber over any further and I made the decision to move farther inland.









The views were still magnificent but the trail was difficult to follow. Eventually, though, I encountered a large caravan park. Caravaning is very popular in the UK. Farmers lease their fields to caravaners; it's a way for them to pay for their farms as farming has become a difficult way to make a living across the UK. Many of the caravans I passed had TV dishes and looked like they had set up "home away from home" much like our RV folk do back in the US.


I became quite lost just past a large caravan park near a village called Back of Keppoch. My laminated map said that there would be several paths that would lead me to Arisaig. "Several" was the correct term but I didn't realize that, having left the beach paths because I was having difficulty navigating the rocks, I would plunge into deep woods. I walked for what seemed like ages, unsure whether I was heading in the right direction. I had my compass with me and so knew that I was heading south but "south" can encompass a LOT of miles and it would still be easy to miss a town completely if I went too far south and not enough east or west. I should have brought the more detailed orienteering map that Make Tracks provided but I didn't. I recommend to anyone reading this and thinking of doing something like this, DO bring the orienteering map and USE it!

Eventually I came through the woods to a deserted beach with what I thought was a large docking area. The beach was covered with kelp. And as I moved closer to the "dock" I realized it wasn't one dock but a series of rusty iron "tables." I think they might have been used for drying kelp but couldn't find anyone who knew what I was talking about when I returned to Mallaig later.







I tried to find my way along the beach but once again the trails led me into woods. After two hours of tripping over roots and rocks I risked climbing over an old broken stile that I feared would lead me into an angry farmer's field to encounter who knew what. But after a quarter mile I was very happy to see in the distance the pretty town of Arisaig. Feet aching and sweaty, I plodded into the town, down to the cafe by the harbor and rewarded my efforts with a delicious slice of victoria sponge cake and a large pot of herbal tea. I then called Mary the cab driver and she picked me up and delivered me back to Mrs. Watts.

A hot shower, a night's rest and in the very early morning, with the moon still shining, I bid farewell to Mallaig and boarded the train back down to England. It was a wonderful week's holiday!!






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