Mountains, Midges and the
Rebels of Knoydart David Lintern found magic in the corries, a powerful history in the glens, and midges everywhere on a trip through Britain’s ‘Last Wilderness’
For
as long as
I’ve
been hillwalking,
Knoydart
has held
a particular fascination. It’s a bit of a cliché, but that last wilderness tag is pretty alluring when you live in the city centre. It’s supposed to be demanding terrain days from anywhere, but just how rough are those Rough Bounds? How remote is it? It’s hard to get a handle on the details if the view from the office window is a brick wall. Equally intriguing was the political backdrop. Back in the 1980s, the athlete Chris Brasher and some like-minded hill folk got together to form the John Muir Trust. They spooked the MOD enough to prevent them purchasing the area for military training. Later, the beleaguered local community formed the Knoydart Foundation, and with a little help from their friends, bought the land themselves. I’d long been inspired by this heroic tale of a rebel alliance rising up in the name of nature and local community – it seemed to be a perfect marriage between people and place. I imagined myself standing on a weather-swept summit, surrounded by a sea of high peaks divided by deep green glens, in a primal land populated by wild animals, anarchist crofters and mad aristocrat landowners. It was only a matter of time before my curiosity got the better of me. Rather than opt for the easier and more usual entry point of Inverie via Mallaig on a boat, I decided to start from the road end at Loch Arkaig, walking into the peninsula from behind. A proper challenge deserving of the place, I thought. I planned to spend six days covering as much high ground as I could manage, visiting both Inverie and the Trust’s land on my way. 26
The Great Outdoors
Spring 2013
The magical Lochan a Mhaim in Glen Dessary